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mythicmanuscripts · 3 months ago

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Hi! It's me again! 🤗

I was reading about the awful things that happened to Aegon in the brothel. Him so desperately trying to be taken care of and only finding more abuse broke my heart 🥺 and also got me thinking... What if he doesn't have a good, loving wife to make it all better? 😭 What if instead, one of the workers (Reader) finally takes pity on him and treats him the way he needs so much? Taking him away from the awful workers and under her wing? I imagine he would become instantly addicted. Never letting other worker touch him again. Only accepting her services. I bet he would get possessive as well. Paying an enormous amount of gold to be the only one that can touch her.

Do you think he would dare bring her to live in the castle? Or even more scandalous, actually MARRY her? Or he would be too scared of his pious mother's reaction (as well as the rest of the kingdoms') to a whore becoming queen? There is also the possibility of him just gifting her a big house with servants, close to the castle, so he can visit whenever he wants needs... Sooooo many possibilities! 😳

What do you think?

Oh my god. Are you sure you don't want to take over this blog because this is INCREDIBLE??? I am obsessed. I actually think I'm gonna tag this with 'subby Aegon!au' so that we can discuss this more and you guys can easily use the tag to find everything about this because I fear this may be my new obsession.

Anyway, NSFW sub!aegon that starts very angsty but has a happy ending under the cut!!

So for anyone who missed the post that inspired this, we were discussing how Aegon would know he was a submissive and go to a brothel to submit to the workers there. He desperately wants to just be loved and cared for and feel like a good boy but none of the workers will do that and he doesn't quite have the language to explain what he wants/needs. So instead he just ends up going through all this abuse and humiliation and degradation just to hear them say he did well at the end. He always goes into subdrop afterwards and he feels so terrible but he also can't stop going because it's the only time that he actually feels like he's good enough.

For this AU, I think it makes the most sense that you first encounter Aegon after he's had a scene with someone else? Cause Aegon always pays very VERY well and so the brothel workers who have dominated him always ensure that no one else can lay with him because they want all that money? Like maybe the madam of the brothel you work at has a very strict rule that no one other than her is allowed to lay with the king. Of course there's plenty of rumours going around the brothel about what he likes he and pretty much everyone knows that the madam dominates him.

You first encounter Aegon after he finished a particularly brutal scene with the madame. Half an hour later when the madam wants to use that room again he's still laying there? He hasn't even gotten dressed, is just laying there with a thin blanket wrapped around himself.

The madam does not want to deal with him because she knows from experience that he gets all clingy and weepy after a scene and so she sends you in to kick him out. Well, she tells you to kick him out.

But then you walk in and he just... he looks so small? You slowly walk over and gently place your hand on his shoulder. He jumps up and scrambles off the bed, mumbling apologies because he knows the madam told him to leave and he still hadnt.

You quickly tell him it's alright, that he's done nothing wrong and the look he gives you is just so heartbreaking? He's all wide eyed and shocked and there's a very very small smile on his face when he whispers, "Really? I... you're sure? I'm good?"

Which, yeah there's no way you're kicking him out now. You help him get back into his clothes and then take him to your private room. The rule is supposed to be no clients in the personal quarters, but this is quite literally the king so you don't see anyone complaining.

You keep an arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him like that and he just leans against you? You can't believe that the madam doesn't stay with him after she dominates him, especially because he's just so sweet? He's leaning against you, mumbling thanks and letting you lead him without complaint. He's so sweet and vulnerable and you can't believe the madam would leave him and not care for him.

He's so shocked when he finds himself in your private quarters, and he's even more surprised when you wet a rag and gently clean the tears off his face. He leans into every one of your touches, trying to soak up as much attention as he can.

You ask him if you can undress him again so you can clean him properly, and he just starts sobbing and throws himself in your arms because he can't believe how lucky he is. You just hold him and tell him that he's doing so good, that you just want to get him cleaned up a little more and then he can take a nice nap with you.

He closes his eyes and cries silently as you clean him. There are welts on his back from the madam's whip so you have to ensure you clean them properly or risk infection. You expect to have to clean dried cum from between his thighs but to your surprise there's nothing?

When you ask, he just wines and mumbles, "Wasnt good, couldnt cum" which just breaks your heart because you refuse to entertain any possibility that this sweet little thing wasnt absolutely perfect.

You finish cleaning him and you're about to help him get his clothes back on when he just kinda collapses onto the bed. You don't even bother with that then and instead you just get into bed with him.

"Come here," you tell him, opening your arms and he immediately dives right in. You hold him tight and when you press a kiss to the e top of his head he just melts into you.

When he wakes, he's hard. He tries to apologise for it but you won't hear it, and you ask if you can help him. He tries to shake his head and say that he can't go through that again, but then you interrupt him and promise him that you only mean helping him cum and do nothing else.

He's so sweet when you stroke him, mumbling how good it feels and begging to cum and after he does, he even takes your hand and licks it clean? He's just the bed boy and he's clearly trying so so hard to please you, so you make sure to praise him constantly because the poor thing deserves it.

The next time he comes to the brothel, he tells the madam to get lost and asks for you. He won't even consider another, not after you cared for him and praised him and made him feel safe. Of course the madam is not happy about this, but she cant stop him and so he goes to the room and waits for you.

When you walk in and ask why he's asked for you, he just says that he really liked you from before. And then he actually looks nervous? Like you might tell him that he has to go back to the madam.

You tell him that as much as you'd love to, you can't do what the madam does to him. You explain that you can't degrade him or slap him or anything like that. But then he just smiles even wider and tells you he doesn't want that, he just wants what you did last time.

He seems all blushy and nervous and there's a very obvious tent in his breeches. You smirk then and say, "Aw, do you want me to take care of you? Yeah? Let me do all the thinking and you can just be my pretty good boy?"

Instantly he's slipping from the bed and down onto his knees, kneeling and nodding comically quick because yes. That's everything he's ever wanted and more.

And he's just so good for you? He listens to every single order, and he begs so prettily and his sounds are just insane. When it's over, you pull him into your chest and kiss his head and tell him he did so so well for you. He's just on cloud nine, because this is absolutely everything he's ever wanted and more.

When he leaves, he pays you double what he pays the Madam and when you tell him that's too much, he says that there's no amount of gold in the world that could be enough to thank you for how you looked after him. He asks if he can come back, if you'll let him do that again and of course you agree to let him.

The madam isnt happy with you of course, but she can't exactly force the king to lay with her instead. For about three weeks things continue like that, with Aegon visiting every few days and paying you very very handsomely. He always stays for a few hours after this, just getting cuddles and kisses.

After a while, the madam comes to you and is unhappy that Aegon will not be with anyone else. Aegon pays very handsomely and he also lets them basically beat him up, so of course the madam is unhappy that she no longer get aegon's time. Aegon, meanwhile, will not even look at another.

The next time Aegon comes to the brothel, you're with another client? As much as you wish that you could just see Aegon, if you did that then the madam would kick you out. The madam is overjoyed when Aegon walks in and you're with another client, because it means she can swoop in and tell Aegon you're busy but that she'd be more than happy to do it instead.

And Aegon just... he knew that obviously you had other clients, but knowing and actually being there while you were with someone else are two different things. His smile falls instantly, and he says that he doesn't want anyone else. The madam tries again, maybe even touching him and telling him to think about all the good times they had, which prompts him to stumble backwards and very firmly say that he won't be seeking the services of anyone else.

He ends up leaving the brothel and then comes back the following night and is so so relieved to find that you are free. He's much more whiney and clingy than you're used to, to the point where he cries if you even let go of his hand. You end up having to pull away o ask what's going on, because he seems very distressed. You hadnt seen him like that since you took care of him that first night.

He gets quiet and then eventually asks how many other men you see every day. You sigh, because you knew this question was coming and you're not sure what to say to him. You end up just saying that this is your job, and that the madam is already upset with you for being the only one he goes to so you can't risk only seeing him because then you'd almost certainly be kicked out of the brothel entirely and have no wear to live.

Before you had even finished speaking Aegon had already made up his mind to give you enough gold that you never have to be with anyone else. You try to tell him that's not necessary, but for him it absolutely is. He will not allow the only person who makes him feel good in the entire seven kingdoms to struggle to earn a living when he is quite literally the king.

At first you turn him down, stating that you have to earn your own way and that you can't rely on him.

And then he goes quiet for a moment before he just softly says, "But, I rely on you? We can rely on each other?" Which is just the sweetest thing you've ever heard. You kiss his head and let him curl against your chest, giving him a little squeeze before telling him that you won't let him pay everything, but you will ket him pay enough to the madam that she will allow you to only take clients of your choice and also to set aside 4 nights every week that are just for him. It's not everything he wanted, but it's pretty damn close. And Aegon is so obsessed with you that he will absolutely take 4 days a week of your undivided attention.

It carries on like that for a while, with you and him being together 4 nights a week and he's just... he's so sweet and he's so perfect and he loves being with you so much. Maybe sometimes he doesn't even want anything sexual? Which yeah is wild cause Aegon is pretty much always horny, but when he's getting so thoroughly fucked every second day, sometimes he just wants to be with you.

Even when he doesn't want something sexual, that is not at all to say he doesn't still want to come be with you. Aegon would sleep in the same bed as you every single night if he could. He also just loves being able to talk to you about his day? You always listen to him and offer him advice. He's never really even able to feel like he can decompress at the end of the day, but now he's always able to with you. He knows that the moment he walks through the doors, you will know how to help him.

I think that eventually you'd accept his offer of him being your only client, and the day you tell him that he is smiling and giggling for the entire day. He definitely buys you a little cottage close to the keep, and as much as you try to say he doesn't need to, he won't hear it.

In fact he actually loves providing for you like that? You do so so much for him and he knows he'd never be able to function without you and so to know that he can do something to help you is just amazing and it makes him so so so happy.

I absolutely adore this concept!! This ask is already insanely long so I'm not gonna go any further here but if anyone else has thoughts about this let me know!!! I'd love to discuss it more :))

#subby Aegon!au #sub!aegon #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

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priestessame · 1 month ago

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♬ ▶• "I don't care, I'd never fucking eat pussy." ♬ ▶•

♬ ▶• (or so he said) Minors DNI! ♬ ▶•

♬ ▶• "𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔰𝔶 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭, 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 ⁿʸᵠᵘⁱˡ"

. . . ✰🎸✩ ♥︎ Ryomen Sukuna X Wife? Reader ♥︎

part 1 of the femme fatal playlist

warnings: Fem AFAB reader, mentions of blood and gore, oral receiving, teasing, spanking, public sex? degradation, spanking, squirting, monster-form sukuna (bros got 4 arms).

It was a dewy evening, the early summer bringing in an unwanted wave of humidity. The moths buzzed along the yellow flame of the street lamp and Sukuna crushed one in his hand at once, wiping his palm on his already soiled kimono. The sorcerers were getting too damn proud. He couldn't even relish the killing today, despite how many bugs had turned up. He gripped another one of those buzzing bastards, carefully ripping off its wings as it thrashed desperately in his hands.

Too dull. He thought.

The one he decided on next was more blue, hued crimson with brown, eye-like designs on its wings. Better, peeling the wings from its fuzzy body before tossing it in the undergrowth.

The faint smell of anko curled around him the moment he stepped closer to the estate. The air now was tinged with a different kind of warmth.

His robe was slashed open, and although the wounds had stitched themselves on his walk back, he still felt the strain of the kill. The grimy blood caked his skin, and the fleshy bits clinging to his skin had started to itch. All of it only deepened his frown.

In the moment his eyes wandered along the familiar landscape, trying to find some unfortunate servant he can rip up. But the figure that waddled out of the shoya residence was yours.

Your face lit up the moment you saw him, eyes bright, as you ran up to him.

"My lord!" you chirped out, your tone a stark change to the gloomy environment.

The prospect wasn't new to him, human offerings both alive and dead were far too common, thrown at his feet to please him, although more out of fear than reverence. So when the village head had begged him to take you, he accepted. He had gotten through most of the previous ones quickly, but you had managed to stay for an annoyingly long time.

Somewhere he needed to be credited for that. The only reason you had managed to live was because Sukuna found himself unable to pin his anger down on you.

For you, escaping death by his hands had become a past-time and after a while he had eased to your presence, not minding a pretty thing running around about him.

He sat down near the bamboo water pump as you tugged the reed to keep the water running. He watched you carry the pine-knit basket in your hands like you were waiting for him to be back all bloodied.

You stripped the torn robe off his shoulders, leaving him in his hakama pants. He looked messy, his pale skin bathed in crimson. The gore was everywhere, lining his sculpted muscles and trailing down his neck, sitting so thick you couldn't see the black markings that lined his torso.

You hummed behind him as you fetched the water. Sleeves drawn back to reveal your forearms, and poured the water over his bloodied palms, the gore washing down and pooling around his feet. The stale blood was hard to get off. The smell flooded around you two, making him curl his lip, but you just hummed nonchalantly.

"I learned how to make nagamashi today." You said, clearly very proud. "Yuu-ki taught me how to make the small ones that look like flowers-"

"You were out with that whore again?" He gruntled, holding his hands over the running water. Not that he really cared, but it surprised him that anyone even dared to so much as talk to you whilst knowing who he was.

"She's not a whore," You replied simply, "She's an artist, she tells stories."

"Of people fucking."

He had heard of her from Urame. They had found her in a small corner of the dingy market street, surrounded by a small huddle of people waiting to hear some washed-out smutty stories. Why had you suddenly developed an interest in those was beyond him. But every now and then he'd come home to you narrating another one of Yuuki's tales.

You giggled, "It's just ink on scrolls, they aren't as bad as you think."

You scrubbed at his palms, fingers gliding over his knuckles and sliding through his fingers. His gaze swept over to your face, reaching to play with strands of your hair that had escaped your bun, tucking the moth wings in it before retracting. His thumb brushed up against the swell of your cheek, leaving a blurry trail of blood water and your face warmed from the touch.

"She had a new story today." You babbled on, "About a traveller and a merchant's daughter he met.."

Sukuna sighed as he pulled you closer with his lower set of arms, holding you in his lap. As always you looked completely unfazed by the gore, only allowing a faint blush to cover your face before dabbing the cloth in tepid water and scrubbing the blood from his neck.

Your kimono had bunched around your waist, he let an idle hand run along the plushness of your exposed calves. You felt so mortal against his touch, like if he applied any more pressure you'd break.

I have heard he pleasured her." You trailed off, tapping a finger on his lips, "With his mouth."

As the shock of your words wore off, his laughter rumbled in his chest. He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with how loud he laughed, and sound ringing around you.

"Shame" you replied smoothly. You felt his gaze snap towards you instantly, the laughter coming to a complete stop. You knew he was a proud man. Usually, when that was used against him, he was quick to falter.

He had never seen dominance that was wrapped in sweet words, licorice to taste.

The whole idea was absurd to him, why the fuck would he ever go down on a woman? But the way you had interjected him pissed him off. A small mortal thing like you, scoffing at him like he didn't know any better. His grip on your waist tightened,

In his life, the king of curses had only seen devotion. He had only been with men and women that brimmed with obedience. They were never against his words, heads always hung low, and eyes that wandered away from his face. Buried neck-deep in reverence and fear. They sought their pleasure in service to him, letting him use their bodies however he saw fit, and that's how it had always been.

"What do you mean woman?"

You blinked at him innocently, "I understand," You started, treating a dragon like its a house lizard on your wall. "Its okay to not know how to." you giggled.

The shocked silence that followed your words made you wonder if he really would just behead you now. Sukuna's jaw slacked, eyes narrowing at what you had just insinuated. His mouth tugged in a smile of disbelief.

So arrogant. So fucking arrogant.

The sky tilted as he pushed you backwards, until you were pressed under him, sprawled on the dew covered grass. Your heart hammered as he pinned you down, "What did you say?" he breathed, challenging you to repeat your words. He only had to use one hand to pin both your wrists over your head.

You gulped, the warmth that flooded your body made you want to curl your toes. His inhuman form eating yours up entirely. And there he was, right how you wanted him.

"N-nothing my lord," You played along, "I just-"

You yelped as his fingers dug through your kimono, ripping the fabric until your breasts spilled out. The bite of the cool air causing your nipples to harden.

Sukuna has soon realized that taming you was like trying to catch a cloud with his bare hands. All the strength and power he had acquired, simply did not matter. He had never expect the thrill he would find in that, of being so hopelessly wrapped around your finger. It drove him mad. You drove him absolutely mad.

"I have killed others for way less." He stated, dragging his fingers along your torso. You shivered involuntarily under his touch, eyes pulling up to meet his. Your breasts were laced with markings from last night.

The animalistic need crawled up his throat. He won't admit how much he enjoyed it. How much he loved it, he loved your stupid arrogance, he loved how your unyielding eyes met his so brazenly, and the nimble fingers that touched him shamelessly. His fingers stopped right over your hips before sinking into your thighs.

Dew seeped into the back of your kimono, your breath bating from the anticipation.

He pushed them up, pressing them flush against your chest, exposing you to him completely.

The sight of your pretty cunt sent blood rushing to his core. You presented to him so fucking perfectly, he would be lying if he had never thought of putting his tongue on your folds. feel that velvety heat clamp down his tongue as he prodded it deeper. Fuck him.

The only thing he didn't like was how fucking smug you looked. Enjoying having the king of curses kneel between her legs.

"Such a fucking mess." he breathed, the strings of slick coating the inside of your thighs. "Just the thought of it has you this riled up?"

His fingers brushed against your folds parting them to slip his thumb in your gushing hole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, walls squeezing around him immediately. Dragging his knuckles along your slick, and pressing his calloused palm flush against your core.

The mouth on his palm licked you kittenishly, and you jumped,

Sukuna arched his eyebrow, "Not scared now are we?" he grinned, pushing his weight on you slightly.

You kicked his chest jokingly, only for him to grab your ankle and yank you towards him. "I'm not letting you wriggled out of this one." he cooed.

The pads of his fingers found your clit, "you're gonna take what I give you like a good little slut."

Your arousal stuck to his palm as he teased you, wanting you to grind yourself against his hand. He liked seeing you under him, presenting for him so pretty.

In the moment he knew he was going to ruin you, bury his face in your cunt until you were crying from the overstimulation.

Sukuna dove into it straight away, dragging his rough tongue over your sloppy folds. The scent of your arousal consuming him entirely. He wasn't gentle with it, the sounds came out lewd and sick and your heels dug into his back. You felt him suck you, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit.

"Fucking gushing like some common whore." He chuckled, spiting on your cunt before lapping it up. His tongue slipped into your entrance, the tip of his nose pressing into your clit. He ate you out like a depraved man, laughing at how wet you were. The sick pleasure of it all was too much for you already. You squirmed from the way he ate you out, his grip only tightening to keep you from moving too much. He used his teeth to pull at your sensitive skin, until your thighs were trembling with the simulation.

Sukuna was having too much fun with your reactions, you were acting like he was touching your for the first time, a babble of incoherent words falling from your lips. "What?" he drawled, pulling away slightly, "Did I tongue fuck you dumb already?" He jeered, bringing his hand forward to slap your pussy.

Just the impact pushed you over the edge, drawing your first orgasm easily and you came hard, back arching off the ground. Sukuna chuckled at your reaction, "impatient little cunt" He purred. You buckled as he continued to roll his thumb on your over sensitive clit, the movement deliciously rough. "I didn't say you could cum yet."

You tried to squeezed your thighs "P-please." You managed,

"Hmm?" He asked, his breath still hot on your folds, "Is the slut begging me for more or begging me to stop?"

He manhandled you unto all fours, the remaining fabric of your soiled kimono hanging off your waist as your fingers dug into the soft earth, desperate to grab at something. The position was even more embarrassing than before. The cold air hit your folds and you squirmed from the lack of attention. If only Sukuna's could be satiated from looking at you, ass up and face down, practically begging him to have his way with you. Your arousal dripped down between your legs impatiently.

His hands groped at the swell of of your hip, spreading you apart, eyes pinned on your gushing hole.

"Tell me what you want me to do." He stated, his voice edged with something you couldn't place.

The confusion from his sudden change of gait had you spluttering, "I- uh-" His mouth parted over your skin, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle, teeth only tentatively pulling at your tender skin. You could hear the grin in his voice as he growled, "Command me woman."

The way he said it send a chilling thrill down your spine. You turned your head back, throwing a look of absolute defiance back at him. "Use your fucking tongue to please me." you stated, your voice ringing out with pure desire. It was a command in every sense of the word, beckoning even the kind of curses to kneel. Sukuna groaned in response to your tone, all of it going straight to his cocks. He was hard with just the way you had said it, audacious, like you had a leash around his neck already.

He hungrily flattening his tongue against you hot cunt, feeling your throb for him desperately against his tongue.

The only slut he'd ever let command him.

Your eyes rolled back as he pushed his tongue in deeper, eating you out like a depraved man. Tongue liking up stripes from your entrance to you clit, in strokes where you could feel him spell out his name. It was messy and hot making you want you grind yourself against his face, but the grip on your hips kept you in your place, stopping you from humping his face like some bitch in heat.

The pleasure continued to build, unlike anything you had felt before. The way your pleasure built in you felt weird this time, a painful pressure like you were about to burst from the inside out.

"I-i can't-" you moaned in pleasure as he spanked you hard, palm leaving a biting mark on your hip. Your knees buckled from the impact as he brought his palm to collide against your ass again and again. Sending a jolting spark of pleasure down your spine, making you squeeze hard around his tongue.

"Somethings-" you tried, the orgasm feeling different this time, the knot in your stomach snapped as it rolled into you with an unanticipated waved of pleasure.

You actually saw stars, juices gushing out uncontrollably as you squirted on his tongue. Sukuna stopped holding you up, and the exhaustion made you collapse on the soft earth.

Your release had drenched him, the taste still curling in his mouth. Sukuna's eyes pinned on our spent form, your entrance twitched as the slick pooled between your legs. Your pretty clit stull hard as if begging him to fuck you now.

fucking hell, he grinned, that was fucking hot.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You're doing that again. The high of the pleasure made the blood roar in your ears, all you wanted to do was bury your face until sleep enveloped you. He chuckled, enjoying how dishevelled you looked in the moment.

The world tipped off its axis as he threw you over his shoulder. Hell, if he knew you could do that, he would have buried his face in your sweet cunt wayy earlier.

FULL PLAYLIST HERE

CRYING I FINALLY CAME AROUND TO WRITING THESE SERIES.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Taglist: @elenor222 @yaeshima

#jjk imagines #jjk men #jjk smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna jjk #reader x sukuna #kinktober

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kesujo · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4 - Miss All-Night

Previous chapter here.

Having finished his transformation now for a week, Kang Seojun didn’t really feel particularly different. Although he could definitely feel the physical improvements at times, he didn’t really feel as different as he thought he would. So, as a way to experiment with the physical limitations of his body, Seojun conducted various experiments and discovered a newfound love for running.

Before, it felt like he could barely run a few hundred meters before starting to feel his relatively unathletic body start tiring out. But now, that feeling simply never came. No matter how much Seojun ran, that feeling of muscular fatigue or that squeezing tightness in his lungs and chest and the shortness of breath just never came. What replaced those feelings was the rush of wind on his skin, the blur of the surroundings, the pumping of his legs as his feet propelled him forward bounds of steps at a time. It was that great initial feeling of running, but prolonged for minutes, hours on end.

But that was about the extent of the changes Seojun felt; there was no aura of confidence that he had suddenly developed similar to the ones Taeyeon or Yeoreum had. Kang Seojun’s third encounter with a succubus just confirmed that the only changes in his body were physical when she landed right next to him as he was tending to the garden surrounding Taeyeon’s house.

“Oh, pretty!”

Seojun screamed in a way that was much too feminine to his liking, his body jumping a good few feet away from the demoness who was currently tucking her wings back into her body.

“Are you Taeyeon’s newest servant? Kang Seojun, right? Is Taeyeon home?”

“Y-Yeah, nice to meet you—Taeyeon said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning…”

This was the third insanely beautiful woman he, in his previous life, would’ve never suspected would even talk to him, much less address by name. She stood about a good few centimeters taller than Taeyeon and, as sexy as Taeyeon was, this succubus was even more so. Maybe it was her considerably curvier body, the slim waist accentuating her bigger bust and wider hips, her legs striking the perfect balance between having substance and being slim. Maybe it was how fierce her eyes looked, or how luscious and plump her lips were, or how creamy her skin looked, or how unabashedly she showed off all of her assets, her shorts leaving miles of legs on full display and her top showing a good eyeful of cleavage.

The second sign that the transformation did little to change the way his brain worked was how quickly he felt a tightness in his pants just from looking at the brazenly, dangerously sexy succubus shooting him a sweet smile, a sharp contrast to her alluring appearance. “Ooh, it’s nice to meet you! My name is Tiffany; I heard really good things about you from Taeyeon.”

Seojun almost jumped when Tiffany confidently walked forward and gave him a quick hug. In that split second, his suspicions were confirmed when he felt her well-endowed bosom press quickly but firmly against his own chest through the light shirt he was wearing. Even the bubbly Yeoreum wasn’t this forward and friendly … something about Tiffany seemed a bit different than the other two he’s met. Her appearance, her actions, even her manner of speaking somewhat … what was it?

“You know, I want to taste this infamous delicacy of semen for myself.”

Seojun felt like he could’ve done a spit take if he had any water in his mouth.

Such straightforwardness was definitely not a typical South Korean attribute … that was it! Foreign was the right word. This difference Seojun noticed in Tiffany compared to the others was that Tiffany seemed a little foreign, Western especially. Maybe American—not that he really ever met an American face-to-face.

“May I?”

“Wha-What? Right here?”

Seojun was so taken by surprise that he couldn’t even think straight, blurting out the response before Tiffany’s giggle and reply made him realize how stupid his words were. “No, silly. We’ll go inside. Unless you’re into that kinda thing. I don’t mind.”

“Oh…” Seojun felt his face heat up in embarrassment. In that moment, how dumb he felt was beyond words. Of course, Tiffany meant—wait, what? She didn’t mind? As in, having sex outside, in the open? That idea … while horrifying in its own right, stirred inside him a deep kind of excitement, especially considering it with this spunky, overly friendly, aggressively sexual demoness.

“But, I mean, it’ll be more comfortable inside, on a bed, a few hours in.”

Seojun blinked a few times. “What? A few hours in?”

Tiffany laughed. “Yeah!” While she was still a few centimeters shorter than Seojun, the way she grabbed his hand and led him back inside exuded supreme confidence, similar to Taeyeon albeit with a bit more of a friendly energy. If Seojun were to describe the difference, Taeyeon gave off more of the ‘kind but stern mistress’ vibe whereas Tiffany gave off the ‘fun-loving fuck buddy’ vibe. “I hope you’re ready for a long night,” she said, having sped them right into his bedroom, throwing him onto the bed and straddling his waist with a demonic, seductive expression on her face, “because tonight, I’m not letting you sleep at all.”

Seojun’s brain had trouble processing the words, even as Tiffany threw her skimpy top off. He thought he understood one of the caveats of Taeyeon’s contract with him, that he agree to have sex with any of her succubus guests, and again thought he had a firmer grasp of it when Yeoreum came along and became the second woman he fucked. But being faced with Tiffany, who so brazenly arrived and threw herself onto him—or maybe it was more accurate to say that she threw him onto herself—made him realize that maybe he didn’t fully grasp just how lucky of a person he was.

But there was still one thing he was hung up on. “W-Wait—” Seojun finally found the strength to say those words as Tiffany was just about to rid him of his last article of clothing, herself already fully in the nude. The succubus stopped, her sharp gaze feeling like it pierced straight through his head and into his soul.

Tiffany seemed fully intent on following through with her last few words, meaning that she did a quick evaluation of him and determined she wanted him that badly? Taeyeon, on their first encounter, mentioned something about him ‘smelling’ delicious; maybe Tiffany could sense it too? Seojun tried not to let it get to his head, that all it took was a few seconds before one of the most strikingly beautiful and sexy women his eyes ever had the pleasure of landing on to become so thirsty for him that she wanted to go all night with him, but it was damn near impossible. Still… “U-Um, when Taeyeon tried to do something like this, I ended up passing out after not even an hour. I finished my transformation so it might not be as big of an issue, but the whole night, I’m not sure if I can last…”

Although it was a twinkling laughter that flowed from her lips, the fierceness of her gaze never diminished. It was quite amazing, really. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I promise, you will.”

The words, spoken with such confidence and command, seemed so much like a directive to be obeyed rather than a spoken statement of faith that Seojun felt he had no choice but to believe in her. How, he had no idea—all he could think of at that moment was Tiffany’s warm hand, her slim digits wrapping around the length of his rock-hard cock.

A low, melodic hum of satisfaction emanated from Tiffany’s throat as she gave the erect penis a few pumps, the swollen tip already oozing with precum. “You smell so fucking delicious,” she said in a near whisper, her eyes locked onto the shaft pushed flush against the palm of her hand. “Fuck, I can’t wait for you to pump my pussy full with your thick cum.”

Seojun let out another shaky breath, the arousal in his system feeling like it was causing his blood vessel to burst at the seams. He only had a few chances to look at her ass and already couldn’t take his mind off it; through her form-fitting shorts, its nice, perfectly round shape was perfectly accentuated by the tight cloth and her wide hips. Just the thought of it caused his dick to twitch inside Tiffany’s firm grasp, precum now flowing freely onto the backs of her fingertips.

This was another thing Seojun noticed changed about him; his body seemed to release semen in much greater quantities, which made perfect sense for one who was meant to be a succubus’s primary food source. He could see that it was the case, but never really felt it, so it didn’t phase him at all—that is, until he saw Taeyeon’s pussy dripping with his semen after they had finished a particularly vigorous ‘feeding session’.

But while those effects were minimal on Seojun, it always excited his partner—usually Taeyeon, and now Tiffany. “Wow, your scent is so thick and you’re serving up so much appetizer, you’re really spoiling me.” The succubus licked her lips, her head dipping down and capturing the stream of precum with her tongue. Seojun grunted through closed lips, feeling the wet muscle make firm contact with his erection, feeling it almost snuggle it in its hot embrace as she lapped up the ejaculate, replacing it with her saliva.

When Tiffany’s tongue retreated back into her mouth and she sealed her lips, her throat flexing as the ‘appetizer’ slid down her throat, Tiffany’s eyes closed, a loud hum of approval and primal lust reverberating from her. “Fuck, I haven’t fed off a succubus’s servant for so long, but I’ve never had precum this delicious in my entire life.”

“I-I’m glad,” was all Seojun could muster, wholly unaccustomed to receiving such a barrage of compliments Kang Seojun once again thanked his lucky stars that whatever divine being that was watching out for him blessed him with the ability to live such an extraordinary life.

Tiffany slid off him, kneeling at the bedside, pushing his legs apart just enough so that she could fit between them. “You can be as rough with me as you like,” Tiffany told him with a smile so dazzling Seojun couldn’t even process her words before she enveloped his dick with her mountainous mounds.

Seojun let out a hiss, a pang of pleasure shooting up his spine. The warmth radiating from her body, the pressure being applied to his cock from the huge mounds of flesh, and absolutely impossibly soft texture of her boobs rubbing against the length of his shaft, all of it overloaded Seojun’s brain. Sure, he received titjobs from Taeyeon before, but with Tiffany it felt completely different. The difference in their bust sizes created a much more pleasurable tightness enveloping his cock, the confident smile sitting on Tiffany’s lips as she vigorously rubbed her milk jugs up and down his shaft only adding to the appeal to the whole situation. It wasn’t like his sense of pleasure was amplified like from Yeoreum or was being attacked from multiple places like from Taeyeon, but something about Tiffany’s eagerness and the pure sexiness of her lewd body being used to pleasure him created the sense of a building orgasm more quickly than usual.

“Do you like them?”

Seojun grunted in reply, his fists balled into tight fists, his eyes deadlocked onto her pink, delicious looking nipples sway with the motion of her bouncing tits. “They feel fucking great, Tiffany—shit!”

In a flash, Tiffany released her breast’s hold on his cock and replaced it with her mouth, her plump lips sliding all the way down to the base of his dick with ease, the warm, wet cavern completely devouring the rock-hard cock. Her skillful tongue wrapped itself around the circumference of it, bathing it in another thin veneer of lubricant. Seojun vision was suddenly replaced with the crown of Tiffany’s head, her hair gently bobbing with the up-and-down motion of her head as her blowjob started to rev up in speed and ferocity.

The combination of the sight of her head bobbing up and down on his dick along with the feeling of her lips and tongue gliding along his shaft was devastating, but not enough to prevent him from noticing the horns growing out of her head.

‘You can be as rough with me as you like’

Tiffany’s words repeated themselves in his head, and with that, an idea suddenly popped into his head.

His hands lifted away from his sides and onto Tiffany’s head, directly onto the protrusions sprouting from her head. Taeyeon, for the most part, liked to keep her horns hidden, so Seojun never had a chance to touch them before, so he was a bit apprehensive at first at first contact. However, upon feeling them, he could immediately tell they were as sturdy as they appeared and gripped onto it tightly, getting into the rhythm of Tiffany’s bobbing before adding his own strength into the mix.

Tiffany’s muffled moans crescendoed, Seojun’s roughness spurring the eager succubus on even further. Seojun could sense the impact of his roughness and understood why Tiffany had said those words: it wasn’t just a reassuring statement, but an urging one. Unlike Taeyeon, who was wild in her own ways but never particularly physically rough, Tiffany wanted it. She fed off that energy and responded in kind, her increased enthusiasm demonstrated in the increased vigor of her blowjob. Her movements sped up, his cock hitting even further back into her throat, a subsequent tightness increasing in response to the sucking Tiffany was doing in an attempt to eliminate as much air inside her mouth as possible, leaving the only thing inside her mouth Seojun’s cock.

Seojun barely had the time to warn Tiffany about his impending orgasm before it suddenly slammed into him, a torrent of his seed ruthlessly spraying the back of her throat, sliding straight down into her esophagus. “Fuck, sorry—” he found himself stopping mid-apology, seeing Tiffany’s delighted expression as her throat flexed impressively, not missing a single beat in swallowing each stream of semen as it erupted from the tip of his dick and directly into her digestive system. When his orgasm subsided a few seconds later, the familiar feeling of fatigue struck; although it wasn’t nearly as bad as his first time, he could definitely feel it. So how the hell was he supposed to survive an entire night if he was already feeling weary?

Seojun’s hands came off her horns, Tiffany releasing her lips’ vice grip on his dick. Although her mouth was no longer encasing his dick, he could still feel bits of its lingering warmth in the form of her saliva still coating its exterior. “Wow … Taeyeon always chooses good servants, but I don’t think any of them match up to you,” Tiffany noted, her hand reaching out and giving the stiff member a few pumps. “Maybe I should just live here…”

“Tiffany, sorry, but I’m already starting to feel a little fatigued. I can still go a few rounds, but all night…”

“Oh! Of course, let me fix that.”

Tiffany climbed back onto his lap, straddling his legs with her perfectly portioned ones. Her hands wrapped around his head, and in the next moment, her lips were on his.

Feeling her plump lips on his was just as amazing as he thought it would be. Her fresh vanilla scent wafted into his nose, her hands gently cupping his cheeks, the soft membrane pressed fiercely against his. Seojun, still being a relative novice at kissing, let Tiffany lead, soon after feeling her tilt her head for better access before her tongue came out to prod at his closed lips. He obliged, grunting in surprise at the sudden intrusion of the warm, wet muscle into his mouth making contact with his own tongue. The feeling was so overwhelming—Tiffany’s ferocity, the speed at which everything happened, Seojun barely registered that the feeling of his fatigue was vanishing as more and more of her saliva entered his mouth. It wasn’t until Tiffany pulled away that he connected the dots—was this her Trait? The ability to increase the stamina of her partner through the ingestion of her saliva?

What felt like minutes later, Tiffany released their lip lock, her hands falling onto his shoulders. “Better?” Seojun didn’t even realize his erection flaring back to life until her right hand continued downwards, giving it another few pumps for good measure.

“Yeah.”

Tiffany smiled, patting his cheek lovingly. “Good.” The gesture caught Seojun by surprise; the way she smiled at him, the way she gently patted his cheek … maybe it was just a lack of experience from Seojun, but it felt like Tiffany was acting like he was her boyfriend of a couple of years—or maybe decades, considering her immortality—by now. Even Taeyeon, as warm and kind of a mistress as she was, didn’t treat him with such loving gestures. Was this another cultural difference between the two? “You seem to have caught on pretty quick, so let’s get straight to it!”

She jumped off his lap, turning around and bending over slightly, presenting her shapely, perfectly round ass to him. Her hands reached back and spread the cheeks apart, revealing her glimmering wet folds already dribbling with her own precum, the puckered brown hole sitting atop her vaginal lips. Tiffany’s head was turned around, looking at Seojun completely mesmerized by the sight before him, watching his erection come back in full force. “Like what you see?”

Seojun could do nothing but nod, his throat feeling particularly dry. Sure, Taeyeon always demonstrated supreme confidence, but never did she put up such a brazen display as Tiffany did, showing off her pussy and backdoor with her cheeks spread apart, looking back at him with a teasing yet confidence smirk on her face. “Your—your ass is really nice, and you have a beautiful pussy.”

Seojun lost his virginity about two weeks ago, and despite how much sex he’s had since, it was still hard to get out of the mindset of being in awe of a woman’s body. Maybe that feeling just never faded, or maybe it was because it was Tiffany’s body. Whatever the case was, Seojun hoped that feeling never faded: the tightness in his chest and shortness of breath he was experiencing, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight as if it was his last, his dick straining so hard against his crotch that he feared it was pop right off. “Thanks, but let’s save the best for last, OK?” Seojun’s gaze shifted up a few centimeters, onto the puckered hole above. Seeing his eyes move, Tiffany giggled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of time to enjoy this pussy tonight.”

When Tiffany started backing up, Seojun felt his heartrate shoot through the roof. Although Tiffany’s boobs were sexy in their own right, in Seojun’s opinion, her ass was easily her greatest asset. In all the few moments he had spent admiring it, never did it occur to him that he would be feeling it up close. But now that it was closing in, the realization hit him all at once: that beauty of a rear end, it’s perfect amount of roundness and plumpness combined with the tightness of the skin and the unblemished whiteness of it, was going to be grinding against his groin. Between the overly-exaggerated bubble butts wielded by Western women and the flatter ones from Asian women, Tiffany’s hit the perfect balance between the two: bubbly and juicy enough to be mouth-watering, but not too much as to seem over-the-top.

“You really like my ass, don’t you?” Tiffany interrupted his thoughts, giggling again.

“I’m—it’s so sexy, I can’t believe that you’re willing to use it on me.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows raised. “’It’?”

Seojun’s facial expression fell in an instant. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

Tiffany’s tail swished out of her tailbone, covering his lips mid-sentence in a shushing motion. The playful grin on her face told Seojun that his fear-induced outburst was unwarranted, supported further when she said, “It’s fine. Treat me like your possession. I’m nothing more than your fucktoy, your slut, for the whole night.”

While Taeyeon and Yeoreum were on opposite sides of the domineering and submissive spectrum, Tiffany was somewhere in the middle. The way she said the statement was with authority, but Seojun could tell by her voice dripping with lust and arousal that she wanted him to dominate her. And that realization just pushed his arousal to the next level.

Seojun’s hands went to her waist as she slammed her ass down, perfectly aligning his cock to slide right into her tight backdoor. “Fuck,” the guttural groan shotgunned out his throat the tight walls squeezing his cock with a firm grip. It was strange; although the tightness with which Tiffany’s ass suffocated his member made him feel like he couldn’t move an inch, it slid deep into her hole with ease nonetheless. In one smooth, firm stroke, Seojun’s cock fully hilted Tiffany’s ass, her plump ass smacking with a crisp slap against the intersection of his legs.

“Uuh, fuck,” Tiffany moaned in kind, grinding her ass against his groin as she accustomed herself to his size. The friction created from the action sent Seojun straight to the moon; it felt even more heavenly than he could’ve ever imagined. His legs tensed and his toes curled, his grip on the wide hips of the lustful succubus tightening as the pleasure from the one stroke sent such a potent injection of pleasure into his body that Seojun felt his consciousness flicker. “This ass that you’ve been drooling over, how is it?”

“It—it feels—it feels so good, Tiffany,” he panted, his mind so overtaken by pleasure that the ability to formulate words properly vanished. However, even if he could, Seojun figured no amount of description could adequately explain how fucking amazing it all felt: Tiffany’s firm ass creating a delicious amount of friction in his groin, the soft skin of her romp rubbing against the damp skin of his crotch, the walls of her repurposed hole gripping the width of his cock firmly, rubbing against his shaft as Tiffany’s grinding caused his rod to stir about inside her tiny hole like an oversized ladle in an undersized pot of soup.

“Go ahead,” Tiffany’s voice, husky with the feeling of lust and desire, floated into his ears. “Use me. Fuck me like you own me, like my only purpose is to take your rock-hard cock and every last drop of semen left inside you.” Seojun felt his body shuddering, turned on by yet another aspect of the demoness: her voice. Surely if he was still a normal man, he would’ve died by now from a heart attack.

Somehow, Seojun found the strength to pull back, lifting Tiffany’s hips at the same time, before slamming back inside her. “Fuck,” he muttered again, his entire body shuddering with the second injection of pleasure coursing through his veins. “You’re so tight, Tiffany.”

Tiffany soon began helping, lifting her ass up in tandem with Seojun rearing up his cock, and summarily burying his cock to full hilt with such force that the resulting smack! resonated about the bedroom. “You’re filling my ass so well,” Tiffany egged him on, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, lips slightly parted, her soft hair running down Seojun’s shoulders and onto his chest. Her legs wrapped around his tightly, her hands gripping the soft blanket beneath them, her ass and boobs jiggling in response to their fierce connection.

The cool room was set ablaze, the combined sounds of lust and desire filling up the room so completely it bounced off the walls. Seojun’s movements grew fiercer, Tiffany’s body willingly submitting to his every motion: when he increased the voracity of his thrusts, Tiffany accommodated by shifting her position to allow easier access; when Seojun’s lips found Tiffany’s neck, the succubus accommodated by tilting her head to the side to present more of it to him; when Seojun’s hands reached around and upwards to fondle her tits, Tiffany moaned in pleasure and arched her back to allow greater access to them. So accommodating was Tiffany that Seojun found himself completely lost in lust, mind focused solely on his own pleasure, absorbing every sensation Tiffany’s body granted him and every sound of pleasure escaping her lips, using it as additional fuel in his chase of his second impending orgasm of the night. The fatigue from his first release had all but vanished, his body brimming with as much energy as his first time with Taeyeon. Ordinarily, Seojun might’ve questioned why this was the case, but at the moment his brain had no capacity to consider anything else but the curvaceous woman in front of him, desperately bouncing in conjunction to his relentless pistoning.

“You’re so rough, fucking me like a depraved slut addicted to your cock. Treat me more like your personal sex doll, like your cum dumpster, and pour your sticky white honey into my ass!”

Strings of filthy words flew out of Tiffany’s mouth in the meanwhile, her deep, alluring voice pushing him ever closer to the edge. “You want it? You want my semen?”

“Yes! Please, pump me full with your delicious seed!”

“How much do you want it?”

“I need it! I’ve only had one taste of it but I’m already addicted to the taste of your thick, creamy cum! Please, unload everything into my slutty hole!”

Seojun obliged, the tension in his nether regions finally bursting. “F-Fuck,” he muttered, his body shaking violently with the cadence of his orgasm, an even more violent stream of semen bursting from his penis and into the waiting body of Tiffany.

“Oh! O-Ooh, oh god, oh god, it’s so warm, it’s so thick,” Tiffany’s moans streamed out of her mouth as uncontrollably as the semen from Seojun’s dick, grinding her ass fiercely against his groin in an attempt to draw out every last drop of cum from Seojun. Her ploy worked almost too well, Seojun’s teeth grinding and his body shuddering in a second wind, a final few streams of his white milk ejecting straight into Tiffany’s ass. “God—god, fuck, it’s so good.” Tiffany’s chest heaved, the rise and fall of her boobs causing Seojun’s hands to follow their motion. “I actually can’t believe something so fucking delicious exists in this world.”

When Seojun’s orgasm subsided, his panting slowed down, his hands falling onto Tiffany’s legs, his erect cock still wedged firmly into Tiffany’s rear entrance. Although it wasn’t as prominent as before, Seojun could feel it: the beginning signs of fatigue settling into his muscles.

Before Seojun had time to contemplate if he could actually last the entire night, Tiffany unplugged her ass, dribbles of his viscous bodily fluid trickling onto his already damp groin, and looked down at his gradually softening erection. “Looks like you need a bit more help, and I’m close too. Lay down for me, would you?”

Seojun obeyed, Tiffany’s ass following him until his head met the cushiony material of the blanket he was now laying upon. “Try to swallow as much as possible, OK?” Without further explanation, she pushed her soaking wet holes so close to his face that he could feel the damp heat radiating from them. Understanding Tiffany’s intentions but confused as to what she meant, Seojun nonetheless obeyed, his hands coming up to spread her firm butt cheeks aside so as to allow space for his face. With that, Seojun closed the distance, meeting Tiffany’s vaginal lips in a heated embrace.

Tiffany let out something between a sigh and a moan, the warmth of her tits yet again surrounding the hardening member of the succubus’s servant. He pressed his face against her, letting Tiffany’s juices wet his face, deepening his access to her pussy before sticking out his tongue. Yet another moan escaped Tiffany’s lips, cut off shortly after when her mouth became filled with Seojun’s cock. A grunt vibrated against his throat, his grip of Tiffany’s plump ass cheeks tightening, digging deeper into her wet love hole.

Eating out a pussy was something that Taeyeon had been teaching him, the results shining brightly as, moments later, Tiffany’s own orgasm arrived. Remembering her words, Seojun opened his mouth wider, his cheeks soon bulging with the fluid shooting out of Tiffany’s womanhood like a cannon. Try as he did, the sweet liquid started overflowing and dribbling out the sides of his lips and down his chin nonetheless. By the time Tiffany’s screams of ecstasy subsided, the amount of her juices that managed to escape Seojun’s mouth was so large that a noticeable puddle formed on the blanket below. Seojun breathed a sight of relief, pulling his head back, letting his face damp with Tiffany’s juices hit the cool air of the residence, swallowing the sweet-tasting liquid. “How is it?”

“Sweet. Is it supposed to be sweet?”

Tiffany giggled. “Succubae who have lived as long as Taeyeon and I have the ability to control the taste of our cum. Most don’t really care to do so, but with me it’s a different story because of my Trait. Of course, blood is a more potent conduit of transferring life force, but cum is just below it, and I imagine you’d much rather drink something sweet than my blood, whose taste I have no control over.”

Feeling it slide down his throat, Seojun felt another renewed surge of energy. His body felt warm, his senses sharp. Kang Seojun was positively brimming with energy. “So your Trait…”

“Is as you guessed. I can give my partner increased stamina and strength via the consumption of my bodily fluids.” So that’s why Tiffany stated that they would go all night. And with how energized Seojun felt, for the first time since hearing those words, he actually believed that he could last that long. “Now,” Tiffany said, climbing onto the bed. Seojun’s eyes followed her, watching her adopt an all-too-familiar position. “Come and get this pussy.” Tiffany’s eyes twinkled with excitement, her head turned around to look at him, hands resting on either side of the pillow and her tits brushing the surface of the soft material below them. Her knees were planted firmly on the bed, her juicy ass shaking playfully at him, her supple butt cheeks spread by the jet-black tail protruding centimeters above the puckered hole still glimmering with fluid, below both the prize: her slit covered with a layer of precum-stained vaginal lips.

As much as Seojun wanted to sit there and admire the sight of Tiffany on her hands and knees, presenting her ass so daringly and erotically, his desire and lust pushed his body into action. Seojun took but a moment to squeeze the plump cheeks hiding the jewel within, spreading them out properly before plunging head-first into the pussy of the eagerly waiting succubus.

“Fuck, fuck,” Seojun’s moans came out without a second thought, the fleshy walls of Tiffany’s pussy sucking his cock in like a vacuum. In his entry stroke, Seojun found himself pushing his cock all the way in, the swollen tip of his dick bumping against the edge of Tiffany’s vagina. With another satisfying slap! sound, Seojun watched as Tiffany’s ass bounced vigorously at the impact of his thrust.

“Uuh, god,” Tiffany moaned in unison, her back arching even more, the resulting motion pushing her ass even more flush against his groin. “Fuck that ass you love so much well, Seojun!”

Even without Tiffany’s direction, Seojun would’ve done exactly that. At first, his hands were firmly gripping her slim waist to ensure he had enough leverage to keep pistoning his dick inside her, but as he secured himself by wrapping them around Tiffany’s legs, his upper body moved up, as did his hands, eventually resting on her ferociously swaying tits. Tiffany let out another moan of pleasure as Seojun’s fingers quickly found her swollen nipples and pinched them.

Looking back, Seojun might feel embarrassed by how quickly he threw everything else aside, fucking Tiffany with reckless abandon, but at the moment his brain could do nothing else but obey Tiffany’s original directive. Even when Taeyeon played the sub, Seojun understood it wasn’t a go-ahead to fuck with nothing but carnal pleasure in mind; with Tiffany though, he could tell it was all about that, and he allowed himself to revel in it. His muscles felt teeming with life, his every thrust not tiring him but only fueling the next one. With every squeeze of her tits, with every resonant slapping noise her ass made with his quickly moistening crotch, Seojun felt his primal lust grow. Each stroke increased the tension by one knot, and slowly but steadily, his impending orgasm built.

“You’re so rough! Fuck me harder! Pound my pussy more! Yes!”

Tiffany’s words egged him on, his mind lost in a cloud of primal desire and lust, unable to even vocalize his orgasm when it arrived. Despite it being his third orgasm of the night, the ferocity at which his seed unloaded into Tiffany’s eager pussy surprised even himself.

“Oh fuck! It’s so much, oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s so thick! More, give me more!”

The most surprising thing was how after Seojun’s orgasm subsided, not a single bit of that familiar feeling of fatigue hit him. In fact, knowing he just came inside Tiffany’s pussy made him hornier.

“I want to look at you this time when I fuck you.”

It was Tiffany who obeyed this time, the twinkle in her eyes indicating her excitement and lust having not fallen one bit. “I can’t believe I get such a high-quality feast tonight. Or, more importantly, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out in the past few years.”

“Well I’m here now, so have some more!” With the final word, Seojun pushed his dick back inside Tiffany’s love hole. Her face contorted in pleasure again, her eyebrows creasing and her body shuddering as the warm, tight cavern once again took in his cock.

Tiffany’s sex face was just as alluring as Seojun thought it was, and that combined with the sight of her more-than-ample bust bounce with every thrust sent him over the edge what felt like moments later.

“Here it comes—fuck!”

Tiffany’s legs, which were wrapped around his waist, tensed, her hands gripping Seojun’s arms even more tightly as the fourth injection of her meal for the night entered her body. “It’s so hot, fuck, your cum is always so thick!” By the increased sharpness of her voice, Seojun could tell she was on the edge too, so he helped by giving her clit a firm pinch. “Fuck!” Sure enough, the action sent her sailing over the edge, her entire body shuddering violently with Seojun’s as his cock became awash with her juices. As fiercely as the orgasm overtook the lewd body of the succubus, the tightness of her pussy proved stronger than the pressure of her orgasm. Again, as Seojun’s orgasm subsided, he found himself no less fatigued than before; again, he found himself turned on even more from seeing so up close Tiffany’s orgasm, especially knowing it was because of him and especially being able to feel it with his cock still plugging her hole.

On Tiffany’s request, Seojun found himself sitting at the edge of the bed again, Tiffany in his lap but facing him this time. A content sigh escaped both of their lips as Tiffany’s pussy once again welcomed Seojun’s cock, her vaginal lips readily parting for the newly appointed VIP. Seojun’s hands found themselves cupping Tiffany’s bountiful butt as their lips collided fiercely, aiding Tiffany as she bounced vigorously on Seojun’s cock, her boobs pressed firmly onto his chest. Feeling her legs wrapped securely around his waist, feeling her wet lips on his and her wet pussy lips splattering her juices onto his crotch, feeling her moist and impossibly tight pussy walls gliding against the length of his shaft, feeling her bountiful bosom shake with the fierceness of their hot connection and her swollen nipples draw chaotic lines across his own chest, Seojun reveled in all of it. Every part of Tiffany’s sexy body was tightly pressed against him, working in unison to provide him maximum pleasure—and while it wasn’t comparable to how quickly the pleasure multiplied because of Yeoreum’s Trait or how Taeyeon’s Trait allowed him to feel his cock being fucked by multiple holes, Seojun felt that it was probably as close as regular sex could be, if sex with a succubus could ever be called that.

There were no words exchanged this time, Seojun’s removed necessity to breathe allowing the pair to extend their hot makeout session all the way to Seojun’s orgasm.

They moved from position to position, not leaving a single square inch of the bedroom untouched as their copulation carried throughout the night. Cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, Tiffany blowing him while Seojun laid on the bed and watched from above, standing 69, bent over the nightstand, bent over the bed, standing oral, Tiffany on top bouncing on Seojun’s dick, Seojun standing up with Tiffany held in his arms, both facing him and facing away from him, Seojun on Tiffany’s lap suckling her tits like an infant while she jerked him off, Seojun fucking Tiffany with one leg up on the nightstand, even with Tiffany pressed against cold window of the bedroom, and then all over again with the other hole and then with both holes with the help of a dildo or his fingers (or fist, whichever Seojun felt like using).

The entire night felt like a blur, his mind moving quickly from orgasm to orgasm without a hitch. It was during that night that, for the first time since transforming, Seojun felt sweat start to coalesce on his forehead, chest, and hands. However, as Tiffany was feeding him her bodily fluids in various forms throughout the night, that sweat came as a surprise to him considering the fact that he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired.

But what was even more astounding than that was that Seojun never once felt tired of Tiffany’s body. He reveled in every second of it, of being able to feel her curves against his body, of feeling her tight holes massaging his ever-erect cock, of the blissful feeling of unloading another giant load of cum into the eagerly awaiting holes of the tireless, lustful succubus. Seojun had been given the impression that Taeyeon’s Trait was the optimal one for sex, especially after his physical enhancements allowed him to be fine no matter how creatively Taeyeon used her power, but in those few hours, Seojun thought differently. Maybe because it was Tiffany who had the Trait, or maybe the Trait was just amazing in and of itself. But Seojun had not the time nor mental wherewithal to deliberate; after all, Tiffany’s three holes were waiting for his cock.

By the time the sun started to peek above the horizon, Seojun was railing Tiffany from behind while standing in front of the bedroom door, sweat dripping from his brow and onto Tiffany’s back, his hands squeezing the already reddened skin of Tiffany’s previously perfectly white boobs raw.

“Fuck, why does your ass feel so fucking good?”

“To make you feel good~”

“Your pussy—” Seojun was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door, not one meter in front of them, open up. Seojun’s head shot up, his eyes landing on Taeyeon with a … perplexed expression?

“So it is you, Fany. I knew it.”

“Y-Your servant is a God-send.”

While Seojun felt himself slowing down in equal parts embarrassment and shock, Tiffany’s ferocity did not.

“I know, right?”

With how casually Taeyeon was speaking, Seojun figured that it was OK to continue, letting his lust overtake him once again.

“But have you been fucking all night?”

“Yeah!”

Taeyeon sighed, a sound that was more in the vein of humorous disappointment than annoyance. “You always take things too far, Fany.”

“B-But, if you had my Trait, tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!”

“Tiff, I’m cumming!”

With a final grunt, Seojun thrusted one last time, hard, burying his cock as far as he could inside Tiffany before erupting yet again.

“A-Ah, shit, I’m cumming too!”

Seojun’s grip of Tiffany’s tits tightened as their bodies convulsed in unison, far from being the first occurrence of the elongated sex session, their juices colliding and mixing inside Tiffany until dribbles of it spilled out of her slit and onto her legs.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Which is why you need your own servant!”

After Tiffany’s orgasm subsided, she lifted her head to meet Taeyeon’s gaze, Seojun’s cock still buried to the hilt inside her. “Then, can I make Seojun my servant too?”

Despite being the one who suggested it, Taeyeon’s eyes shot open in clear shock. “What? Wait, are you serious?”

“Why are you so surprised? You were the one who suggested it!”

“Well of course I would, seeing that Seojun would be the first one you’ve designated in centuries! Are you sure you even know how to do the servant ritual?”

“…Well, even if I forgot, I can relearn! I mean, how hard can it be?”

Taeyeon just sighed, Seojun’s excitement and lust slowly dying down as he was finally granted a breather. “True, you shouldn’t—wait, Seojun isn’t your servant!”

“…Yeah…?”

“And you haven’t taken a single break?”

“Yeah—oh!”

Tiffany’s surprised interjection was the last thing Seojun heard. In the next moment, Seojun felt his consciousness being slammed into the ground like a paper bag by a runaway truck, blackness overtaking his body a split second later.

Next chapter here.

#taeyeon #kim taeyeon #snsd #soshi #smut #kpop smut #girls generation #succubae #The Pet of Kim Taeyeon #snsd taeyeon #snsd smut #tiffany #tiffany young #girls generation smut #tiffany smut #multiple orgasms

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! I really like your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a Yandere!Platonic 1st Years (+Grim) with an Eri!Reader?

How would they feel learning of her abused, trauma, and her unfamiliarity with general society and social norms? (Who’s looking murderous when they see just the scars littered around her arms and legs when her bandages are removed?)

Though it’s a whole different story when she says she sees her power as nothing but a ‘curse’, and her existence a ‘burden’ that only makes others suffer? All because of the man named ‘Overhaul’, the one who did this so her? (Who’s about to go feral when she admits she doesn’t remember how to smile?)

But she starts to become more positive thanks to Grim and slowly the others (She likes Grim and is very sparkly eyed because he talks, breaths fire and thinks he’s amazing)

Imagine when she says she made a friend all on her very own who’s ‘like her’, though they lightly chastise her that she shouldn’t talk with strangers (It’s Malleus, they’re both lonely, have horns she has 1, while Malleus has 2, have an incredible power that’s very dangerous, and they’re unfamiliar/slow with society)

Eri Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’ve been through so much….so you’ve been told. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant voice in your head that has guilt weighing on your little heart. Your transportation to Twisted Wonderland couldn’t come at a better time. They’re going to welcome you cage you to this new world more than willing to spoil you to your hearts content:

Grim

“Oi oi servant they all think we’re monsters!”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah! So we gotta show them we’re gonna be the greatest mages in here!”

“Oh….okay!”

He’s the perfect chaotic companion

He teaches you to allow yourself to do what you want

Granted his guidance isn’t all knowing

No matter how tasty Heartslabyul’s tarts are you shouldn’t eat them everytime you visit — especially without permission

Either way you’re learning to forgive yourself and allow you to have fun

And leave it to Grim to say whatever snarky thing you’d like to say when your big-brothers get in the way

“Nyeh! You won’t be able to do anything against my flames, nyah!”

Ace Trappola

“Hey if I catch you moping about that plague doctor guy, I’ll sock ya in the head!”

“Ace?!”

“I-i-i won’t!”

In a weird way you’re so used to being bullied (by kai) that you tend to take his bully-affection to heart

You know he cares, he just won’t tell you often

He reminds you of a certain blonde…

It also makes you more privy to his very willing desire to steamroll over anyone he deems a problem for you

“I think he meant that as a joke, Ace…”

“Joke schmoke, I warned you, you stain! I’m putting you in the medical wing.”

“Ace, please!”

Deuce Spade

“(Y/n), did you eat today? Are you feeling well? Do you need me to carry you!”

Mother hen of the group

He’s hovering close behind even when you don’t see him

Always making sure you’re safe and happy as can be

He’s teeming with anxiety if he’s not watching you himself

Even worse if you get hurt accidentally or on purpose

Now he’s Mama bear totally bearing the claws to protect you

He’s not going to leave you to defend yourself

Especially when your abilities hinge on your mental state

He’s trying his best

“Are you doing the breathing techniques Crewel recommended? Where’s your paper bag?”

Jack Howl

“Hello little one.”

“Hi.”

“Would you…like to sit on my shoulders?”

“Yes!”

Your #1 guard dog

Doesn’t have to worry considering Deuce is freaking out for him

He’ll be the sane voice of reason because Ace isn’t anywhere close to reliable in his eyes

Naturally he entrances you with his tail and overall dog-like personality

But don’t forget he’s got the bite force of a wolf that he’s not afraid to use if he deems fit

“Pup, don’t stop yourself from having fun or being…young. I–we will keep you safe.”

Epel Felmier

“You’re so pretty.”

“...Thanks.”

You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that

And he loves nothing more than escaping Vil to find out what other sweet makes you smile sweetly

He’s also one of the first to join Ace as part of the self-proclaimed protection committee

He’s also one of the first to suggest taking it further than a mere beatdown

Anything for his new little sibling

“If there’s no body…there’ll be no problems.”

Sebek Zigvolt

“TINY HORNED HUMAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIASOMNIA PIN!”

“Uhm…Ace took it from me…said it was unfair.”

“THAT FOOL. COME CHILD I SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU THE PIN AGAIN.”

Is definitely apart of a brainwash committee of his own and is insistent you become Diasomnia’s new mascot…under Malleus of course

His loudness sometimes scares you off but he means well

And will no doubt join the others if a few heads need to roll

“Rest easy, child. On my watch, no one will harm you.”

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ivypos-writes · 4 months ago

Text

put your lips (where i’m rotten)

— aemond targaryen [1/?]

[SERIES MASTERLIST] | [GENERAL MASTERLIST]

summary: There are times when Aemond thinks he hates her, if only for the crime of reminding him about the chains of servitude shackled to his throat. Other times, he convinces himself that he feels nothing towards her at all. She is a stranger. A no one. A face without a soul. She is but another prisoner within these walls; a spoil of war, only one he never wished for.

He cannot condemn her for existing.

(He does. He does.)

Or, in which war puts them together, bound by duty and united in wrath.

warnings: 18+, aemond x unnamed!betrothed, angst, implied/referenced abuse, arranged marriage, falling in love, tension, morally grey characters, doomed from the start, dual pov, they’re both miserable and broken, eventual smut

word count: 6.3k

notes: i’m ready to descend into brainrot now that s2 is over. english is not my first language. all reviews are very appreciated! thank you for reading<3

(also available on ao3.)

She knows rot when she sees it.

The hall has been prepared with utmost care for the arrival of the dragon prince. Servants scrubbed every surface three times since the sun rose—if one were to strain their eyes intently enough, they would find remnants of wetness pooling in the crevices and cracks of old stone. The floors were swept; the tables set for a feast, the scale of its grandiosity a stark contrast to the usual quality of their dining. All the torches have been lit. She has never seen this much light within these walls before.

Their household’s banners previously hanging down the walls have been replaced with a golden dragon painted over green, and she makes a point of refusing to look at it once, convinced that her distaste will be too strong to be passed off as something less treacherous than it truly is. The winged creature is foreign. Its embroidered jaws bring promises of misery.

She has been forced into her best gown—except it’s not really hers, but her sister’s, and the difference in their build shows. The fabrics draped over her waist are tighter than she’s used to; the coarse bodice digs into her ribs with a crushing force, and her bust threatens to spill from its confines with each slightest movement. Dark skirts cascade all the way down to the ground, and she holds onto them with trembling fingers, chanting inaudible prayers not to trip and plummet to her knees in front of an audience. Pride is something that still belongs to her, however fleeting; however scant. She will cling to its shredded remains for as long as she can. If she is little more than a property to be sold, then she’ll be a property standing with a raised chin and a fixed gaze. She will not stumble. She will not fall.

They dressed her in red. She hates red.

The gown shimmers in warm golds underneath the stray rays of sunlight, and she quickens her pace to evade them. Reds and golds. Green. How hurriedly they have stripped away whatever remnants of identity she possessed until this day—and they managed to do so with just colours. She has been dressed for slaughter. A pretty victim. A comely prey.

Today, she is a stranger. A newborn rising from the ashes of a dead. Past is gone, and all that remains is the possibility to mould herself into something new. Something better. Maybe—maybe—something that aches a little less. She is not herself; she mustn’t be herself. If she remained herself, she would flee.

Her father’s pride appears to have once more conquered all financial hardships their household faces; to have grown overnight, skyrocketing to a whole new level. The tables seem to groan underneath the weight of various meals that they normally cannot afford. The multiple flagons are filled with wine that had thus far been stored in the cellar, considered too valuable to be wasted. The prince’s palate must be too delicate for anything less than overpriced liquors and spiced meats, and so her father has gone out of his way to provide the best quality service. He’s always been quick to quell any and all issues one ought to consider, if only for a short-term semblance of glory and importance. What other opportunity to flaunt his scarce resources and remnants of wealth if not before a dragon prince? Coin matters little in the face of royalty—or so he says.

She wouldn’t know. Rarely does she pay his words too much mind.

The raven arrived with the rising sun a fortnight ago. The words scribbled on the parchment were short and concise, and carried promises sunken deep into ink. Promises of blessings, according to her family. What she saw instead were promises of pitiless duty. The Dowager Queen herself announced that her son would be gracing their home with his presence. A royal visitor. An unwed man coming into the household of a man with an unwed daughter.

Too many whispers of war have been heard across the realm not to ponder its many components. A thing in exchange for another. An arrangement. A trade. She knows how this works; she knows how this ends. Little fool, her sisters would call her, but she is not so foolish to be unaware of what this is about. The day must come, and sooner rather than later; a girl cannot remain a girl until her soul withers with age. She always knew this much.

It is well within her father’s right to succumb to a new sort of haughtiness. He wears it like an armour that doesn’t quite fit him; wears it in a way that evokes not envy, but utter disdain. If anyone thought him boastful before, they must be eating their words now. She is half-convinced that, fuelled by this recent sense of smugness, he has written to every lord in the area to brag about this sudden development. Gods know that there is nothing he loves more than the feeling of being important.

A Targaryen prince willing to take his daughter for a wife. His plain, insignificant daughter. His forgotten daughter. The very same daughter he never wanted.

He certainly seems to want her now, what with his newfound interest in her—or, rather, in whatever merits she may bring to his name. His previous indifference has converted into ineptly feigned affection; aloofness has turned to an overbearing sort of attentiveness. His touch is softer. Almost kinder. He greets her in the mornings and invites her to dinners, and calls her by her name instead of girl. Gone are the days of blissful solitude she used to shrink herself into. She can scarcely remember when she was last left to her own devices.

The girl she once was would have wept in joy at this sudden shift. The woman she has grown into has long since become too bitter to find an ounce of appreciation for it inside her heart.

(She wants nothing from him. She hasn’t wanted anything for a while now.)

She bit her own tongue so many times over the course of past days that it has gone numb. Whenever her father descends upon her with another onslaught of artfully crafted care and tenderness, she keeps her mouth shut.

It is how she spent this morning: in stubborn silence.

It is how she stands now, spine rigid and fingers buried in her dress, mouth pressed into a thin line.

No one seems to take notice of her, anyway. She may well have been swallowed by the ground beneath her feet. The hall is buzzing with equal measures of exhilaration and unease; servants scurry about, performing last-minute fixes, and she half-expects them to drop to their knees and collect specks of dust with bare hands. Her father barks orders from his seat at the highest table; he is already clutching a cup of wine, face flushed and chin wet from the red substance. His new lady wife watches his antics with the corner of her mouth turned downwards, eyes shining with the one thing that they share: disgust towards him.

She wishes to occupy herself with something—to cherish the last of freedom. It is too late, though. It has been too late for a long time.

It is a thunderous screeching that alerts them of their guest’s arrival first. All chatter dies in its echo, and the walls seem to shake from the booming noise. A large shadow crawls inside through the narrow windows, bathing the chamber in gloom. Darkness lasts only for a short moment, and yet her heart pounds wildly against her chest at the sight. Something cuts through the skies. Something wild and menacing.

Her heart stops.

Too late. It’s too late, and the realisation haunts her.

Stories about the second son of the late king have been spreading throughout the realm like wildfire since she remembers. She was just a girl when she heard of him first—and he just a boy who had lost an eye. Rarely ever was Prince Aemond’s name brought up in conversation without the purpose of retelling the story of his maiming, as though it was the only thing about him worthy of mention. Years passed, and throughout their length all that was remembered of the young prince was what he no longer possessed. What had been taken from him. A most hideous scar, they would call the mark of the past, stretched over the whole side of his face. A cripple, they’d name him.

Aemond One-Eye.

She supposes that he is now known as Aemond the Kinslayer.

This is war. War demands bloodshed. Time and time again, she has been told that women do not understand its vices, too delicate and fragile of hearts. It must be the truth. She doesn’t see how killing one’s own blood could ever be condoned nor understood, and yet such is the case now. This is what has become of the realm. It is a canvas ready to be painted in reds.

When she was younger, there were traces of sympathy flashing inside her heart. Sympathy for the boy who had been hurt by his own kin; sympathy for the man he could have grown to be, if only his injury hadn’t rendered him damaged. Prince Aemond Targaryen lived his life with a dark shadow clouding over his head, preventing him from rising above. Prince Aemond Targaryen nurtured bitterness and hatred, and when he erupted, the earth was bathed in innocent blood.

She is older now, and he is no longer a wounded boy, but a ruthless man. All remnants of past commiserations have been eradicated during a single storm.

Kinslayer.

When the murderer enters the hall, all she senses is cutting coldness. Silence grows suffocating; she breathes in and breathes out, and hopes she won’t choke on it. There is a heavy hand that comes to clutch her shoulder—her father’s. She can smell the wine; knows that it is him even without glancing sideways. His fingers dig into the flesh near her collarbone with a bruising force, and she interprets the message for what it truly is: a warning. Do not ruin this for us. Do not ruin this, or I’ll make you regret it.

And he would. She knows that he would. He possesses a brutish strength and not an ounce of mercy. His touch leaves raw imprints behind.

(An unknown abuser may yet prove less monstrous than the one she has known for all of her life. It is the same thing she’s been telling herself for the past weeks. If she repeated it enough times, would it become true? Or would it only serve as another lesson?

But oh, does she truly need to learn anything else? Hasn’t she learned enough? Is there more—always more, forever more? She cannot. She cannot.)

She has nothing to fear. There is a murderer in these very walls, and yet she fails to gather any of the dread she tasted on her tongue before. Footsteps echo through the hall, her heartbeat matching the rhythm with ease, and she stands with nothing but emptiness inside her chest. Even trepidation has abandoned her. She is hollow. Unresponsive.

When she curtsies, she does so without meeting the prince’s gaze. Her eyes are dropped to the ground, and there is hatred that flickers inside her mind, directed only at herself. She had sworn that she'd remain proud until the end of this farce, and yet here she is, scarcely toeing the line of the beginning and already cowering before him.

She catches sight of dark boots and black leather.

He is standing right before her.

Smoke fills her nostrils, heavy tendrils crawling down her throat and squeezing. She doesn’t let herself cough. Her eyes are molten. She keeps them lowered.

“My prince,” she says through gritted teeth, and the words coat her tongue in acidic aftertaste, foreign and foul and entirely unwanted.

Does he sense the bitterness that spills from her mouth? It is so heavy that she nearly chokes on it. Her lips must be stained with it. Stained crimson red. Stained gold and green.

“How good it is to welcome you into our home, Prince Aemond,” her father says, standing tall by her side. She feels him shift; his fingers curl around her elbow. “We are honoured to receive you.”

If he expects that she’ll add anything to this speech, he is wrong. She holds her tongue, even when her father’s grip turns vice, and stubbornly keeps her eyes downcast. There it is: a wet splotch on stone floors, right beside her feet. They shouldn’t have mopped them so many times.

The answer comes in a low hum, seconds or minutes or ages later. It is a soft sound—so soft that it nearly evades her ears. She catches it only through her own silence; only because her heart seems to have stopped, bathing her insides in dreadful hush. It dies in the cold air, and yet its remnants seem to cling to her skin, forming goosebumps in its wake.

Her hands shake. She tightens them into fists.

“My lord.” The Prince’s voice is not what she would’ve expected: gentle, velvet smooth. She knows that his gaze must be turned to her; her skin burns when he adds a low, “My lady.”

Lightning strikes outside the windows. It is storming again, and she wonders if it is a bad omen. It must be. She makes the mistake of raising her eyes towards the openings within stone walls, chasing the memory of the bolt, and then it happens.

Prince Aemond’s face is illuminated with the light of the nearest torch. The glow bathes him in golden hues, though the warmth does little to cut through the sharp lines of his features. He must be made of stone—there is polished blankness that shrouds his countenance, and it doesn’t falter under her gaze. With curious eyes, lost in the moment, she traverses the curve of his jaw; the sharp angles and porcelain-white skin. A leather patch keeps his eye covered, and there is an old, vertical scar peeking from beneath its confines. This is the mark that they spoke of. The mark that has shaped him into what he is.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer.

When his eye finds hers, she holds her breath. Violets and lilacs flicker in his gaze; it is endless fields of flowers underneath golden rays of sun. It is fire. Scorching flames.

She knows rot. She knows it, because her own heart has long gone into a state of decay. Rot rules everywhere that affection does not; everywhere that seeds of tenderness and care were never planted. It is this rot that she finds deep inside his eye: swelling, flaring up with each breath.

Perhaps the prince, too, has never been loved.

A beat slips by. Her heart rises to her throat. She counts seconds as they near a full minute, and all the while her eyes do not strain from his gaze, glazed over and stinging. It is a test—one she knows she must pass, though the reason why remains unclear. The prince seems to be searching for something; his eye turns intense, raining fire upon her flesh. He will leave her scorched. He will turn her to ash.

Time stretches and twists; warps into a distorted shape. It runs in circles and keeps her a prisoner suspended in its vicious grip. Wasn’t it storming outside? There’s nothing but a heavy silence now, foreboding and sweltering. There’s nothing but fiery purples.

Kinslayer. She has grown to anticipate the blow, forever prepared to bleed, and this habit does not dissipate now. He is a prince. The son of the king. The brother of the usurper. If he is not pleased with her, he will be free to inflict punishment upon her flesh and mind and soul in whatever ways he desires. Who would stop him? Certainly not her father, for he himself has been lost to blinding rage too many times. Certainly not her. Weakness runs thick in her blood. She may veil it with stubborn pride and determined gazes, but it will never wilt away.

For a short moment, lost within the depths of his eye, she almost thinks he will unsheathe his sword. That he’ll put its tip to her neck. That he’ll end this before it truly begins—cut through invisible shackles around her neck, taking her head clean off.

There is silence and dread and despair, and doesn’t he see the haunted look inside her eyes? Her lips remain frozen, but her gaze alone screams to him.

Do it, she urges him. Do it, or we will be eternally doomed.

He will. His eye burns and her chest heaves, and the blow is sure to come any moment now—

And then the corner of the dragon prince’s lips quirks, and her fate is sealed.

There is a beast nesting on the empty fields outside the castle.

She once owned a stallion the colour of pitch-black night, gifted to her on her tenth name day. He was a wild thing, forever untameable, deemed too aggressive to mount. No number of lashings or rewardings ever dissipated his fiery nature, and all that her father’s stable boys repeatedly ended up with were hands raised in defeat. A beast, they called him. A dangerous beast.

It took her over a year to gather strength and courage. It took three nights before the horse allowed her to even come close. In the end, she did mount him—amidst the dark murk of night, with only the moon and the stars watching from above. At this point, there was no one who paid her any mind, all remnants of care for her wellbeing long forgotten. It must have been the reason why no one ever noticed. She could have broken her neck or shattered her spine, and there would have been no witnesses. She rode the stallion until the moon gave way to the sun; rode him until she was breathless from exertion and satisfaction and utter, unbridled delight.

Mounting a dragon must have been much more arduous a task. It is a wonder it only cost the prince an eye. The expanse of scaled flesh is enormous enough to cover the entirety of the grounds within sight; greens of grass are replaced with a deeper, more subdued shade. She searches for the beginning and end of the creature, but yields upon only being able to distinguish the wings. They are torn in several places. The wounds must come from the past wars.

Vhagar. She once read a book about Old Valyria and its fruits—about Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives, and the beasts they had ridden to take over the realm. The dragon laid upon the fields is a breathing piece of history. Her old scars carry the memories of the Conquest. Her eyes have seen things preserved only on paper.

She is every bit as mighty and breathtaking as she is described in many old tomes. Dangerous. Savage.

…asleep.

Of course, even a dragon sleeps, especially one this ancient. She wishes that she, too, could seek refuge from lucidity. The previous night was full of nightmares and sounds of rain, and she carries the testament of it in dark shadows underneath her eyes. Rest remains outside of her reach. Perhaps she is unworthy of it.

This is where she usually seeks solace: in the tower deemed haunted, long abandoned by all the residents. When she cannot sleep, she climbs the many stairs, rising to the highest point where the gaping holes between the pillars allow her to glimpse outside. She watches. Imagines herself somewhere amidst the fields—a different person, living a different life. She’s rather good at it: daydreaming. More often than not, this habit is what keeps her sane.

The tower isn’t truly haunted. If it were, one ghost or another might have pushed her from the window. She always stands close enough to fall. A step from dark abyss. Half a step, if she feels particularly brave about it.

Or perhaps it is, and the ghosts that do haunt it are not kind enough to put her out of her misery.

It doesn’t matter. The briefest sound that echoes from behind is not one made by any spirit.

The dragon prince may think himself sly, but she senses the weight of his gaze on the back of her spine immediately. It is much like the day before: fire nipping at her skin, spreading out in quick bursts. She stops herself from trembling. It will not do her any good to remain a lamb ready for slaughter—if the predator is permanently tempted, it will finally charge.

Her spine straightens; ears strain, searching for the sound of his footsteps. Prince Aemond is light on his feet, but she has spent too many nights anxiously waiting for her father to barge into her chambers in search for release from pent-up rage.

He smells of fire and rain. His scent fills her nostrils to the brim.

“She looks rather peaceful for a beast.”

Her own voice sounds strange to her ears, and she bites the inside of her cheek, hoping that the prince did not catch its waiver. This is the first time she spoke to him willingly—not prompted by politeness or bruising fingers atop her skin. Should she have bitten her tongue instead? Bowed her head and awaited him to break the silence first?

Right away, she regrets speaking at all. Will her words offend him? She knows little about the Targaryens, and even less about their dragons, but surely there is a strong bond between the two. Maybe beast is too strong a word. How else should she have described the being before her eyes, though? It’s an omen of death. It is death itself come to take them all.

Her expression hardens. She doesn’t care if she offends him.

The dragon prince moves forward upon her words, as though emboldened by the fact that she hasn’t sent him away or shrieked at the sight of him. Through the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the fabric of his cloak. He seems forever clad in leather, wearing it like armour. It is darker than night, even when sunlight shines upon its surface.

He is taller than her. Sharper. In some ways, Prince Aemond reminds her of a sword. If she were to touch him, she’s half-convinced her skin would be left bleeding, sliced through by the mere outline of him. This sharpness of his is a weapon. It keeps everyone repelled. The prince’s eye is focused on the sight before him; as expected, he stands with his good side on display, no doubt unwilling to let her glance at the scar any more than necessary.

“When she sleeps, perhaps,” he says, quietly and softly. “Vhagar hasn’t known much peace. She is a seasoned warrior.”

A warrior. A killer. Her jaws swallowed a boy of four and ten.

Kinslayer.

She gulps down a bile in her throat and waits for whatever comes next.

They should not be alone. For all her wishes to remain a person and not a possession, she has learned the customs of a marriage by heart. She knows the vows. She knows what happens once they’ve been exchanged. If her father’s wishes are granted, they will be wedded sooner rather than later—certainly not here, but in King’s Landing, blessed by the king himself. She will wear green, and then nothing, and then pain. She will be a wife and a mother, and never again a human. But they are not yet proclaimed betrothed, and she shouldn’t be standing with him in an abandoned tower without a chaperone.

Maybe they’ll catch them and accuse her of impurity. Maybe she will be spared, left to rot in these walls, left to die alone. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

“You don’t seem afraid.”

Her eyes turn to him.

Last night, he sat beside her father, sharing the wine and keeping his silence. He did not look at her once. He did not speak to her at all. She was glad for it, sat herself on the far end of the table, away from chatter and flattery and lickspittles. Her hands shook throughout the entire feast. It was the one indication of remnants of fear she could not control.

She is rid of it now. She must be. Fear will not save her.

“I only fear what I don’t know,” she answers, voice hollow, and doesn’t let her gaze falter. She wants him to feel its weight on his skin; wants him to shudder, bucking under the pressure of pure resentment. “This sight is rather clear.”

Prince Aemond glances at her—shortly, quickly, his eye averting straight away as though scorched by the sight. She watches his cheek twitch. It is the first time his stone-like face moves.

“Is it?” he muses, his voice unchanged.

Her ire grows flared.

She turns to him fully, abandoning the stretch of the landscape and the beast that disrupts it. “A prince barged into my father’s house with the rising of a war.”

She has been granted the right to dress herself this morning. The skirts that she buries her hands within are a dull shade of grey. She will never again wear her house’s colours—if gods are kind, though she doubts it, she won’t wear reds and greens, either. There is no self that she may cling to anymore. She is an empty shell. Grey canvas. Void.

Her spine aches. She straightens in an attempt to stand taller, eager not to be looked down upon. It does little to cut through the difference in their heights, and she catches a trace of amusement that flickers through his eye, gone in a blink.

The prince hums. She bites the inside of her cheek. Her throat is dry, but she must continue now that she’s started.

Mouth twisted in displeasure, she takes a breath. “He brought his warrior dragon, if only for the promise of retribution were his request to go unfulfilled.”

This seems to catch his interest. Briefly, Prince Aemond turns to face her, eyebrow arched. “Request?”

“Demand,” she corrects.

“A grotesque picture.”

“Do you dislike honesty?”

“I dislike exaggeration.”

She wants to scream. To step forward. She wishes she could grow wings of her own and flee this wretched place.

He knows nothing about grotesque things. His life has been filled with riches and freedom and power. A dragon. A spoiled princeling. Prince Aemond’s wrath needs not to be smothered; it comes in fire and blood and results in ashes. He is a man of violence—a man like her father. His heart is rotten.

“There is no way to paint this picture any less grotesque, my prince. Is it exaggeration to assume you’ve come to claim your first spoil of war?”

“You?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like a question.

“Me.”

The prince’s lip curves. He must be pleased with her misery.

“How presumptuous,” he murmurs quietly.

“But not untrue.” She tilts her head, watching the prince turn towards her again. “Or are you here for some other purpose?”

He isn’t.

King Aegon’s banners have been hung from many towers in these lands, ravens coming and going with a frequency that often left the skies shrouded in dark wings. It was only a matter of time before the demand for fealty reached these grounds. They have long anticipated it.

Her father will give him an army prepared to draw and shed blood; he’ll give him a daughter forced to spew out royal offspring. He will see this as a transaction—as an opportunity to rise above high lords who would dare think themselves his equals. War will tear throughout the realm, and all the while he himself will remain holed up in the safety of his castle, basking in newfound glory but unwilling to earn it. She will be the one to earn it for him. He’ll forget all about her before a moon passes, and she will spend the rest of her life selling herself to bring his name pride. Just another daughter. He has enough of those to no longer try to remember their names.

The prince seems to concede, for he says nothing. There is no satisfaction that comes with having won; she stands in the aftermath of her victory and feels nothing.

She wishes for another storm. Overcast skies seem to evoke the dragon prince’s wrath. If lightning struck, would he offer her the mercy of pushing her off the tower? No, she thinks. Prince Aemond does not appear to be particularly merciful. Perhaps, though, if he were to look at her face under the light of thunderbolts, he’d decide her unsightly. She is rather plain-featured—neither tall nor short, nor shapely enough for a woman. Any of her sisters would have made a better match for a prince of the realm.

She doubts he cares, though. Gods know that she doesn’t.

Prince Aemond rotates his body. They are now face to face. She sees all of him: violet eye and a leather patch and the scar, pink and red and greyish. Her breath catches. She hates that it catches. In another lifetime, she might have thought him striking. His is a regal kind of beauty—this much cannot be denied. He is all silver. It reminds her of the moon.

A murderer. A beautiful murderer.

Her chest heaves.

She must not fear.

“A spoil of war,” the prince echoes as though tasting the words on his own tongue, lips pulled upwards. His eye flashes to her face, its corner crinkling. Purple glints under the sunlight. “The lady has a proclivity to make statements she does not quite understand.”

“The lady,” she spits, gathering the last of her boldness, “understands enough to make such statements.”

Prince Aemond hums once more. “I’m sure you think so.”

“If you wish to correct me, my prince, you are free to do so. I am but an humble servant.”

A prisoner. A prey. More dead than alive.

They stand close enough together that it is improper, though she doesn’t recall the distance between them fading. Stray rays of sunlight keep them separated, bathing the leftover space in a warm glow. They will not breach it. He is clad in black, and she in grey, and none would dare to step into anything lighter. From here, she could count the little scars speckled on his face, silver like his hair. She could trace the length of his nose and find remnants of freckles he must have worn in his youth. She could, she could, she could. She won’t.

He lowers his face so that they’re closer. Like this, she cannot escape his gaze. The warmth of his breath. The eyepatch. The scar.

“My brother, the king, has sent me to receive your house’s pledge of allegiance. When given a task, I obey.” He is so close that even a whisper seems more like a scream. “Whatever comes next, I assure you that it will not be by my own choice.”

Like a willing victim, she holds his gaze, even when she wishes to flee from its fire. It does not get any easier. She tingles all over.

“You’re a prince,” she murmurs quietly, and though she doesn’t mean it, the words sound like both an accusation and begging.

“A prince carries the burden of duty no less than a lady does.”

“Then it would seem that both of us are equally chained.”

Only they aren’t. It is an attempt at blissful ignorance to pretend it to be true. He is a prince, and a dragon rider, and a murderer. If he wishes to, he can rid himself from the burden in a swift manner, be it through a sword or through fire.

Why won’t he? Why, why, why?

She doesn’t understand. He was supposed to be a cold-blooded murderer. She searches for traces of violence in his eye, desperate to catch even a glimpse of it, and finds nothing.

(He must have deemed her undeserving of his wrath. It only makes sense. Her own has abandoned her long ago.)

If he wishes to say anything in response, he chooses to instead swallow the words. It is for the best. Whatever they may have been, she has no desire to hear them.

Silence is heavy. It cuts through her skin and her bones, sinking into the cavity of her chest like a burden she must carry. Her eyes return to the lands outside—to the beast sprawled out on the grass. Do dragons have hearts? They must, she thinks. Even such beasts must have them. No being is spared from the curse of being able to hurt.

Cold air bites her cheeks. Her fingers are long frozen. Her own heart beats a steady tune, no longer frantic with anxiety. Breathing is a little easier.

Perhaps she’ll get used to it. To him. To the shackles.

Just before Prince Aemond disappears behind the entrance, she allows herself to speak. “Has the king decided when we are to be wedded?”

He doesn’t look back. “Not until the war ends.”

Good. She hopes that he does not survive it.

There is no one in the courtyard to bid her farewell.

In search of the last remnants of comfort, she wraps the black cloak tighter around her body. The raging storms of the past days have ended, smothered by sunlight. The skies are clear. It is a warm morning, and yet she feels as though she were freezing to death. Her eyes sweep across the yard once, twice, three times—and drop to the ground when they find nothing.

She has no disappointments left in her. She’s long since exhausted them all.

A week has passed since Prince Aemond’s arrival, and since every single day stretched out into an unbearable length, she is glad that it has finally come to end. They have gone by with constant noise, be it false cheers and flattery or too-loud music. She is sure that all the wine has run out. The dragon prince endured the continuous feasting with composure worthy of praise before getting sick of it—he must have decided it a sufficient period of time before their imminent departure, for he was quick to announce it the day before. She is not sure whether such short notice eased her anxiety or fuelled it. Her hands never seem to stop shaking.

One last time, she traverses the expanse of familiar stone. These walls have watched her grow up. They’ve been a witness to her laughter and tears; to the cries she buried deep inside her chest. She has endured years of suffering, and has learned not to let her pain show. This place has shaped her. It planted seeds of anger and bitterness that have blossomed into her being.

If she leaves, she will never return.

It is a kinder fate. Or maybe it isn’t. She would die here—forgotten, not mourned, reduced to insignificant bones once covered in insignificant flesh. She will die there. It is imminent. Such is her fate. She welcomes it with longing and fear and emptiness.

“Do you wish to travel on dragonback, my lady?”

She turns towards his voice, though she wishes she didn’t. Prince Aemond strides in her direction in quick motion, hands neatly folded behind his back, head held high. He is made of silvers and whites and always, always blacks. There is something inside his eye that wasn’t there before, and though she knows that she shouldn’t let herself get lost, her eyes sink deep into the prince’s skin as they search for meaning.

He must be mocking her. She wasn’t made to rise any higher than the solid ground beneath her feet. She is a creature of no importance; a worthless soul caged inside a worthless body. Her lip twists in displeasure; she may be plain and common, but the dragon prince’s jeers have no right to be made.

The carriage doesn’t bring any promises of comfortable travels, but she’d rather suffer from an aching spine than endure the prince’s close proximity. She’d surely choke on his scent; burn from the heat of his body. Would he hold her close? Would he push her off the scaled beast once they’ve ascended above clouds? Her eyes search his, but she finds no answers. She didn’t think she would. More often than not, gazing into the prince’s one eye leaves her with only another onslaught of questions.

Prince Aemond is quick to recognise the rejection. In truth, she thinks he never expected her to agree. He nods to himself and doesn’t meet her eyes again. It is for the best. She is tired of burning.

“I hope your nights are warm and peaceful,” he murmurs before he stalks away.

She hopes that he’ll slip from his saddle and fall from the skies.

One last look. Just one.

All of it is just stone.

In farewell, she spits on the ground. Nothing happens. It is not sacred. Bitterness remains on her tongue.

Her palms are bleeding from the way she’s been sinking her nails into flesh. She gathers her skirts in one hand and climbs the wooden steps to the carriage. They groan beneath her feet. So does the seat she plants herself upon. Her heart pounds and then stops and she cannot breathe, and still death does not come. Wouldn’t it be a kinder fate to die here? Die before she has gone forth?

Skies darken. It will be raining again.

She leaves the walls she has bled in behind. She will now bleed elsewhere. Somewhere foreign. Somewhere colder.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #hotd #asoiaf #aemond x reader #aemond one eye

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blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months ago

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Could I request Helaena and Aegon in a ploy relationship with more femine male reader who helps around the castle, the relationship starting while helping Hel out when she’s pregnant with the twins and showing that he’s not afraid to stand up to Aegon despite his reputation? Can be headcanon/fic format

The dragon couple and the servant

Heleagon x male!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, kiss, cuddling, alcohol consumption, reader has longer hair

info : thank you dear anon for the request always happy to write for hotd and liked your words very much. Heleagon really needs something good. Enjoy reading and have a good day :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

The king and queen of the greens were destined to wear the crown one day since Aegon and Helaena were born so it had to happen according to the council of the greens.

This is how and no other way the royal green Hightower Targaryen family was meant to continue, and to help the young couple they had not only their own family to help them but also numerous servants and ladies in waiting as well as the Kingsguard.

People who accepted the orders and helped the couple from the outside without a second thought…but despite everything, there was hardly a knight, nor even a servant.

A small house of knights from a very small country came to the king's court to swear allegiance to Aegon, who first found Helaena's company when he caught her butterfly that had landed on the tip of his nose. ,,A shield will come to help” she had said then, not knowing that these words were to become wharer than anything else when she took the butterfly back and he saw it as his duty to bring her back to her mate, for apparently the queen had no guards or they were off looking for the king again.

He walked beside her at a certain distance knowing her preference to keep to herself but it was too dangerous without protection. “What kind of butterfly is it my Queen?” he had dared to ask as he looked at the insect's greenish golden wings, seeing the Targaryen Hightower gently stroking the animal and giving him a soft smile, seeming happy as she began to tell and tell and tell.

The conversation continued in her room, she offered him a place on the floor where she had more animals and maybe he smiled more often because he liked the young queen, maybe he smiled when she put some animals on his hand and maybe he smiled when he looked into her pretty violet eyes because she was the most beautiful thing he knew.

°Heleana and his relationship because of his long hair she loved to braid it as a distraction special kinds of braids that kings and queens had worn. It reassured him when she was so close to him he could protect her in return Aegon who usually looked in front of him also got a few small braids as best he could and the three of them spent their time like this when they all needed some rest.

Aegon the king was the king's first son with his second wife, a young man with a reputation for being hot-headed, unhinged and drunk, as well as for whoring in the streets of Silk.

Opinions that everyone had, even he himself knew of the king's deeds and had once even accompanied him to keep an eye on him, sneaking out of the brothels more than once for his own goodness' sake.

He had been insulted by Aegon in his drunken stupor, he said that a woman's appearance in a man was the best way to start working in a brothel and even when he was angry with his king, sometimes even wanting to hit him at the end of the day when night fell and he saw this figure stumbling towards the castle wall, he sighed and went down. “I-I deeoon't neeaad you,” Aegon muttered and fell down again if he hadn't been supported, at the end of the day he felt sorry for the king.

Yet there was something handsome about the Targaryen Hightower king the bright pretty hair, violet eyes and something inside that he wants to do good but doesn't know how. ,,You'll feel better in a moment, my king,” he agreed and carried him over to the bed and felt Aegon holding him, not wanting him to leave…and he didn't.

He stayed all night giving him water and a little bread until the king fell asleep again, receiving quiet thanks and even a brief hug while Aegon found the fine soft hands soothing on his. Until in the morning he found a sober Aegon who gave him an ashamed look, Heleana came to them some time later with a cup of tea and food and the three of them ate, sometimes quietly, sometimes talking, but most of all the royal couple seemed glad that there was someone who took them both as they were.

°Aegon then apologized for his bad jokes and misdeeds would give his new friend and maybe even more in this three-way relationship a sword and armor a small land for the future. It would be the small deeds of a king trying to mend his ways. Aegon on Sunfyre with their shared lover and Helaena on Dreamfyre taking flights together. Such intimate moments that Ageon actually only did alone and Helena had a better relationship with her dragon were shared with the only person they were close to.

But even the moons that passed became more stressful and darker and the three shared the bed at some point, even if it was Aegon's prerogative to take care of his wife.

The first signs of nausea and pain were always guarded at first by Aegon, who eventually withdrew and then by her lover, Heleana offered his hand or arm everywhere, helped her climb Dreamyfre, brought her food and thought like teas and tinctures. ,,A new insect a bug for good luck” he had said and showed her the pink beetle a gift he had ridden into the forest for knowing she was interested in it ,,An animal of love and blood thank you" she replied and grabbed his hand for a moment in thanks before turning to her new friend.

But another shadow soon settled over the three of them the good time they were having was disrupted after the birth of the twins where Aegon and the immediately in the room were the only ones holding the two besides the queen herself the king shirked his duties more and more as the shadow of war began to settle over the land, ,,My king, your deeds must make you escape punishment and take the crown, take your advice and do what you must,” he admonished again as he met the green king sitting drunk on the throne at night.

He was sympathetic to the situation of Heleana and his children, Rhaenyra on Dragonstone and his own brother full of ambition for the throne. But on the contrary, all he heard were slurred words and insults, which resulted in him grabbing the king by the collar and dragging him behind him, ignoring his shouts and commands with a heavy heartbeat before opening the door to Heleana's room softly.

The queen lay in her bed in her arms the twins a soft smile on her lips while a beetle sat on her head, ,,There Aegon there lies our heart, this throne ascend it and win the war for your will for the will of your children. I am your loyal shield but without you I can protect no one” he said and let it go hearing the sniffling as Aegon wiped away the tears before a soft smile formed on his lips. He pulled his friend, his heart into a hug, hugged him, thanked him and pressed a big kiss on his head as Heleana had once done after the birth of the twins.

°Not only did Aegon make him part of the Kingsguard, he used him as a guard for himself and his sister. The three of them kept repeating the words of courage to each other, trying to come up with plans and advice to help Aegon in the green council. It was their cohesion of dragon dreams, the king and the sworn shield that the first battles of the war, the victories went to the greens while all three enjoyed the twins who saw the three as their three-headed dragon parents.

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

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd s2 #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #heleana targaryen #helaena targaryen x reader #helaena the dreamer #helaegon #reader is male #polyamarous

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years ago

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Hello it's me again I am sorry for the previous request and I hope I am not bothering you and that you are doing ok ☺️

If it's ok and if you have time and you're not busy, would it be ok for a Yandere Poseidon x Angel Reader, Yandere Hades x Angel Reader and Yandere Buddha x Angel Reader

I noticed that in the manga and anime we don't see any angels at all unless I overlooked them but I got curious and wondered what would happen if one were to appear would the gods lock them up in a golden cage or cut their wings to keep them tied to them because in a way angels are being of pure light and power

I am sorry if it sounds ridiculous 😂 and Thank you

I don't write for Hades since he's in the manga, I hope you enjoy and SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER.

Yandere! Poseidon + Angel! Reader:

- Poseidon does very much believe that, because he's a God that he is still superior to you. After all, Angels are meant to be messengers for Gods. Compliant, innocent, quick on their wings, and adoring of their Lord.

- Perhaps on the God's side, you belonged to a different God. One who was on good terms with Poseidon, at least from their point of view, and who you adored being around.

- Everytime they requested Poseidon to meet them, he'd open his room door and see you and all your holy light. It's clear you're scared of him from the timid smile on your face but you were given a mission from your God and you would not fail them!

- He was annoyed with you at first, after all, you were just a sniveling little servant who followed your diety around like a lost puppy. It was pathetic really. Yet, it never stopped his eyes from drifting towards you and never stopped him from zoning out as he took in your appearance...it was, no pun intended, heavenly. Everything about you was absolutely glowing both literally and figuratively.

- He started to hate your diety, honestly. They always got to keep you by their side. You always loyally flew after them with nothing less than admiration and a certain brightness in your eyes and a smile on your face. Even if they were upset, you'd break your back bending backwards just to see them smile and it sickened him.

- You start to get creepy vibes from Poseidon, his eyes holding this dark stare and your intuition as an angel could see something dark fester within him. His hands touching your wings, making you flinch from how cold they are but you didn't dare pull away...you'd just stand there, panicked and terrified. He smiled to himself as he let his fingers feel your soft feathers, enjoying your compliance and submission.

- When you tell your god, they hear your concerns and start to keep you away from Poseidon...a terrible idea. One that resulted in your diety dying, in fact.

- It was bloody and it was brutal and when it was done, you tried to fight him by summoning your sword and burning him with divine light. You stupid little angel, did you forget? He IS Divinity. A powerful God. And you were just an angel, powerful but not strong enough to kill him.

- He threatens to cut your wings off when he takes you to his palace in the ocean. You're not entirely sure if it's a hollow threat (it is not) so you take it to heart and try not to be annoying (smart decision) but you still mourn the loss of your God. You know better than to let Poseidon know that because as far as he's concerned, HE is your new God now. You serve and worship him.

- He wouldn't want to cut off your wings, they are apart of what makes you so gorgeous and considering you're underwater: they'd most likely drag you down than help you so he lets you keep them (for now) and admires you from a golden cage. He will touch them when he pleases, he will seek for your physical affection and he dares you to try and deny it to him because you know the consequences.

Yandere! Buddha + Angel! Reader:

- Oh he's heard about you guys before...Angels, that is. He's pretty sure that you're the cutest one he's seen. You're so happy and upbeat yet so strong and loyal, even though most angels are like that, there's just something different about you that really catches Buddha's eye.

- The way you'd allow him to touch your wings and when you sat and talked to him while he napped, you'd extend them and use it to shade him from the sun. Maybe it was the way you were the first angel to greet him with a cheery smile or the way you constantly wanted to spar with him and pouted when he teased you after beating you for the umpteenth time.

- He met you because he was friends with your diety, the god you praised all day long. Buddha wonders when he started to hate the person he called his "friend", probably the same time his obsession started with you because he slowly became more and more jealous of the way you acted around them.

- Following them like a lost puppy with wings, declaring your undying allegiance to them every day, and having that adoring look in your eyes. Buddha was confused about the feelings he'd get when he saw you look at them like that but he knew what they were now...and he spent long enough trying to hide them.

- He tried to explain the entire thing to his friend, trying to cover up his obsession as best as he could with promises of taking care of you of you became his. Yet your god was a clever one and saw immediately through Buddha's honey coated words and noticed the obsession in his eyes. It was a shame really, Buddha would've preferred not to have killed him but your god threatened to keep you away from Buddha...to keep you safe from him.

- The old fool didn't realize Buddha was going to keep you safe, especially how Buddha held you after telling you that your god unfortunately got into an altercation with the other gods, how you should fight for humanity with Buddha to avenge them and stick it to the gods. He doesn't actually let you fight, however, despite the fact that Angels were adept fighters as well as messengers: he couldn't risk you getting killed after he stained his hands in blood just to have you.

- Buddha is one of the Yandere's that is least likely to get caught, I will die on that hill personally, and chances are is that you trust him enough to believe everything he says at first...but also, you're an angel. You can sense when someone isn't being honest, when someone doesn't have the right intentions, and while you don't want to doubt Buddha after all he's done for you and your deceased god...you know he hasn't been telling you the truth.

- When you confront Buddha about the truth or if he feels like you're becoming more cold or withdrawn, he'll tell you everything. He hopes you'll understand his reasons but it seems your too blinded by your grief to try and attack him...which is silly because you should know from sparring lessons how this is gonna go, little birdie.

- There isn't really any place you can go to escape Buddha, nor is there a God alive who will believe you, but Buddha would rather save the trouble and just tie your wings up and keep you in his room. He'll inform Brunhilde that he'll just do his fight and then yours because you're too torn over the passing of your god when in reality, you're tied up in his room crying tears of frustration from how easily Buddha fooled you and how he even managed to put magical chains on your wings to prevent you from flying.

- He'll take them off someday, when you realize why he did what he did and that it was for the best. When you realize that he wasn't the problem: your God was for trying to keep you away from him when you were clearly destined to be his. Don't worry, he fixed that...now he just has to fix you and everything will be all better.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #ror buddha x reader #tw yandere #yandere record of ragnarok x reader #yandere ror poseidon #yandere ror buddha #yandere buddha x reader #snv buddha x reader #snva poseidon x reader #yandere ror poseidon x reader #yandere snv poseidon x reader #yandere snv x reader #yandere snv #yandere shuumatsu no valkyrie

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spirit-lanterns · 11 months ago

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I just love everything about the celebrity au AAAA

How do you think reader met most of the celebrities and what started their interest in us? I'm most interested in how we first met serval and ruan mei but also how kafka and himeko started falling for us

Ooooo okay! It’s LOREEEE TIME 💕

Since you only asked for Serval, Ruan Mei, Kafka and Himeko, I will only be going over how you met them and how they fell for you. If you’re curious about the other characters, feel free to ask again in my inbox :D

sfw under the cut

Serval: You both met at a gala. Your careers don’t often intertwine (as Serval is a musician and you are an actor) but since the event was one that all celebrities were attending, you met Serval through there. She fell for you because of how much you genuinely enjoyed her music and how sweet you were in comparison to her other “fans” as you didn’t overwhelm her and treated her like a normal person. You also didn’t bring up her recent breakup with Cocolia, as everyone was dying to know the tea on that since it was so new.

Ruan Mei: You both met on the set of a Chinese historical drama that was super popular among fans. Ruan Mei played as the female lead, while you were playing as her handmaiden. Your chemistry together popped off, as people shipped Ruan Mei’s character with you (the servant) rather than the male lead who was supposed to end up with her. She fell for you because of how intimate you made the scenes with her as her “handmaiden” and admired your charming personality.

Kafka: You both met on the set of a super intense action movie. You were only a rookie actor when you first met Kafka (having only starred in small roles and commercials) but Kafka took you under her wing and pretty much introduced you to every big shot actor in the business. She fell for you when you managed to pave your way to the top, blooming from just a rookie actor, to a woman with one of the largest fanbases in the industry. She really admired how determined and hard working you were, which lead to her falling for you.

Himeko: You both met after Kafka introduced you to her during the filming of a romantic thriller. You admired Himeko greatly (both as a person and an actor) and Himeko could see just how giddy you were when you first met her (it was really easy to see your excitement). She fell for you when you managed to nail a particularly sexy scene despite how cute you were, and that switch up practically turned the poor woman into a crushing schoolgirl!

#🕯️ghostly whispers #celebrity au #hsr women x reader #star rail women x reader

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daemour · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: royalty!Mingi x royalty gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Warnings: none

WC: 1898

Summary: You and Mingi aren't friends, not even after marriage. But you're not enemies either. In fact, you don't know where you stand but after an incident maybe it could be something more?

after being complained at for "never writing Mingi" (ahem @mingsolo) here we are! to tide us over while i struggle through nanowrimo i have a handful of prewritten fics so y'all aren't dehydrated

“With the power vested in me by the Gods, I unite Princess (Y/N) (L/N) and Crown Prince Mingi Song in holy matrimony, thus joining their kingdoms.”

The priest leads the two of you to join hands, and as you do light shines from within your clasped hands. The ceremony is over and you are now married to the…well, former nemesis of your people. The funniest thing was when you were just toddlers, your parents had even talked about marrying the two of you together. But then something changed. And it wasn’t long before both countries were locked in a war before you even had the chance to talk to the prince for more than your greetings.

It was devastating. Both countries were large and powerful, and the smaller kingdoms around them suffered for it. It was only when his father died that the high empire intervened and, as a result, decided to use your marriage to make peace. Mingi would not be crowned until he was married to you, and the wedding took place much sooner than you had hoped.

Which brings you to now. Neither you nor Mingi talked or even looked at each other the entire carriage ride home. It was not a joyous occasion, not for the two of you. No shared beds, or rooms, just barely acknowledging each others' presence.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He rarely acknowledges your presence. You don’t know what to do with yourself in this hellhole. All you do is show your face in the throne room when needed and then retreat to either your private gardens or room until next called for.

“Yuri, could you do me a favour?” you call for your handmaiden, who might just be one of your only friends in this dreadful castle. The servants like you well enough but there’s only some much kindness they can offer before the nobles’ words get to you.

“Yes, milady?” Like a ghost, she moves to stand beside you, her hair glowing in the sun. Sometimes you look at her and feel she would be a so much better fit for the role of queen here. You can barely hold the attention of the court ladies while Yuri can shut them up with a single polite sentence. “How may I assist you today?”

“Could you do me a favour and fetch me some tea? You know my favourite. I’ll take it in my room, and you can take the day off.”

Yuri bows her head. “Thank you, milady.” You can hear the smile in her voice, excited at the prospect of a day off. You wave her off and as she enters the side door, you lean back on your hands and enjoy the rays of sunshine on your face for just a moment alone. You take moments like this with gratefulness, as it’s only when you’re truly alone that you feel almost at home.

With another sigh and a crack of your back, you brush off your full skirts and make your way to your room. It’s when you almost reach your quarters that you run into Lady Miyoung, a lady of high social standing that you heard was rumoured to be marrying Mingi before the war had started.

“Lady Miyoung, what a surprise,” you greet her quietly, tilting your head into a bow. “I did not expect to see you near this wing.” You did not expect her because this area is regulated strictly as only you, your personal servants, and your husband are allowed entrance.

“Oh, yes, a pleasant surprise, I’m sure,” Miyoung sniffs haughtily and your eye twitches. As much as she despises you, she’s popular among the court and if you dare raise a word against her the social exile you would face would be irreparable. “I heard the most interesting conversation the other day, you know.”

“Ah,” you are not quite that interested in court gossip, but if Miyoung found her way into your wing without being stopped, it must be something important.

“I heard,” Miyoung leans in as if you’re sharing secrets about childhood crushes, “that King Mingi has been looking for a second wife to bear him a son. A woman of his court, with high social standing, of course. In fact, I heard that he’s quite sick of his war trophy.”

And her words cut you deep. You know she’s referring to herself as the lady of the court with a high social standing, and that you are his war trophy. She’s not subtle, but she’s subtle enough that you cannot sentence her to anything without the wrath of the court against you. You feel your throat tightening but you force an almost painful smile on your face. “I see. Well, the rumours of the court have no bearing on how I will go about my day, so I thank you for your wisdom. You may leave.”

Miyoung raises a perfectly shaped brow, no doubt pleased at your obvious hurt but also craving more of a reaction. “Now, now, there’s no haste. A court doll like you must have nothing else of interest as her husband, His Royal Majesty, has much more important matters to attend to.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Never before had a court lady been so openly disdainful of you. Behind your back, easily, but to your face and in your quarters? You open your mouth to rebuke her but before a single word leaves your mouth, you hear wind rushing past your ears as a person stands before you. As your eyes move up his broad back your hand flies to your mouth as you recognise the back of Mingi’s head.

“My King,” Miyoung stutters out, just as surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Why are you here?” Mingi’s booming voice echoes in the narrow hallway. “I do not recall you being given permission to be in this area of the castle.”

“Why, Queen (Y/N) invited me herself,” she lies straight out of her teeth.

Mingi looks back at you, his eyebrow raised as he awaits your confirmation. And on any other occasion, maybe you would have folded in your eagerness to please the court, but your heart still stings from Miyoung’s words. You shake your head ever so imperceptibly.

Mingi nods. “I see. Now, Lady Miyoung,” his head snaps back to her and she has the audacity to flutter her eyelashes at him. “Lying to the King and putting words in the Queen Consort’s mouth is a punishment worthy of being stripped of your title.”

“Your Majesty!” Miyoung squawks and Mingi holds up a hand to silence her in the middle of her sentence.

“Not to mention the other offences I heard when walking by,” Mingi continues and Miyoung swallows as she realises the trouble she put herself into. “Spreading harmful rumours about the King and the Queen Consort?”

“You’re majesty, I wasn’t–” Miyoung tries to save herself but Mingi is not having it.

“Keep your snake mouth shut” he snaps “lest I cut your tongue off for disrespecting my wife. You have, by extent, insulted me as well. Second wife? Don’t make me laugh. Queen (Y/N) is a hundred times more the queen you would ever be.”

Before Miyoung could protest anymore, Mingi snaps his fingers and guards you didn’t even expect to be there come out of the shadows to take Miyoung by the arms.

“My King!”

“Mingi!”

Both you and Miyoung gasp in surprise, although yours is more confused and hers is plain offence, but Mingi ignores you both as he addresses his guards. “Take Lady Miyoung to the dungeons while I decide what to do with her.”

And without hesitation, the soldiers drag an offended and whining Miyoung away. It’s only when her hollers finally cease that you snap to attention, quickly bowing at your husband. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Mingi,” you state as he bows back. “I thank you for your help in dealing with Lady Miyoung, though.”

Mingi sighs. “I should’ve done more before, (Y/N), and I’m sorry. I should’ve known how hard it would be for you, moving so soon after the war.”

You shake your head as your hands clutch at your full skirts. “You have no obligation towards me. Lady Miyoung was, in a way, correct about one thing. I am a war trophy.”

“No obligation?” Mingi’s voice raises in volume but he pauses to calm himself down after he notices you flinch at the volume of it. “(Y/N), you are my wife. The furthest possible thing from a trophy. I should have nipped the gossip in the bud—neither of us wanted a war and we could not control our circumstances.” Mingi reaches forward, almost as if to hold your hands, but decides against it, his hands just hovering awkwardly in the air.”

“But you don’t care,” you contradict him, your voice small. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I rarely ever see you, and the court thinks I’m a joke. I can’t show my face without hearing the whispers behind my back. I do my best to listen to the commoner’s struggles and offer solutions but there’s only so much I can do when the officials and their wives are against me.”

Your words stun Mingi to his core. “You think I’m indifferent?” At your careful nod, he overcomes his hesitation and takes your shaking hands, bringing them to his chest as you are pulled forward at the motion. “My wife, I adore you. I would be lying to call it love, but I hold you in such high regard, and given time, I would come to love you if you’d let me. I am so sorry that you came to that conclusion.”

You hesitate before reaching forward and squeezing his warm, large hands. “It’s okay,” you whisper. When Mingi raises an eyebrow you laugh breathily at his suspicion. “It truly is. Yes, I felt alone and out of place, but your words and kindness have comforted me. We can try again. I’ll attend more councils with you as is my duty, and we can have lunch together afterwards. I’ll do my best to appeal more to the nobles and we can get to know each other. I don’t hold it against you, Mingi.”

Mingi nods slowly as he processes your words. “We shall,” he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. “We will, and that’s a promise. I will defend your reputation with all I can, and you will blossom in this court, I’m sure of it.”

You giggle a little at his phrasing and you give his hands another gentle squeeze. “I will hold you to that promise.” A pause as you stare into each others’ eyes and an idea hits you. “Mingi, are you busy right now?”

Mingi shakes his head. “No?” he cocks his head, his eyes warm.

Your eyes shine as your smile grows even more on your face. “Then please do me the honour of accompanying me to my garden, my King.” You punctuate your question with a short laugh and Mingi’s eyes shine as he nods.

“Please, let’s.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you gently pull him down the hall back from where you came.

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whump-queen · 5 months ago

Text

Silver (Part 2)

continued from this

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tags: forced intox, manhandling, “servant” whump but let’s be honest he’s basically a pet. words: 3k

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Seven stumbled through the crowd, making his way towards the white cabinets of the adjoined kitchen. The penthouse was precariously dark for how crowded it felt tonight. The sun had set and all that shone through the ceiling-high glass was the glimmering lights of the city. Of tiny people in distant windows. They danced and flickered like highway beams across Seven’s wavering vision.

He braced himself against the glass-paned wall, a handprint he would be cleaning up in the morning, along with the rest of the night’s inevitable damage. He felt his mind buzzing, he placed his other palm against the cool glass, and for a moment, he let himself forget it all.

The ceiling was all that stood between him and an endless sky of blinking lights and stars. There was a vastness about the view beyond that both captivated and terrified him. Skyscrapers surrounded him on all sides, towering to the starry heavens—a gateway that could suck him right up at any moment and send him floating, boundless, through the black night.

He blinked, snapping his gaze from the windowed walls to focus instead on the purple glow of the tacky LED strips Wes had stuck up on the crown molding. Wes was living proof that money couldn’t buy you good taste. He had a gorgeous place on his father’s dime and squandered it with cheesy, bachelor-esque decor. No, if you asked Seven, the penthouse would be much better suited with a simple, elegant aesthetic. But nobody ever did, in fact, ask Seven.

He let his mind wander back to the immaculate halls of the family estate. He wouldn’t say he missed it, rather, it was no better than his current circumstance, but he couldn’t help but feel as though his talents had been better suited there.

At least his Mistress shared his proclivity for cleanliness, and he felt his efforts were more…appreciated. That felt like a strange word to assign to someone like her, but he found himself sick of Wes and his particular brand of chaos. Of constantly cleaning things up after he’d only just tidied them. Of his drunk friends constantly throwing things, knocking things over, and getting sick in less than opportune locations. But most of all, he was sick of never getting a moment of space. Gone were any quiet afternoons spent cleaning the mansion, polishing silver or waxing wooden floors. He could at least let his mind wander, back then. Sometimes his Mistress would even let him out onto the grounds. Sometimes it was bearable, when she wasn’t busy tormenting him.

But there was no yard in this penthouse. Only stacked compartments that soared high into the atmosphere. He’d only ridden the elevator once, on the day he and Wes had moved in. To see so much of the city and never be able to touch it—he felt like a little bird in a high tower, its wings clipped by its captors. Kept in a tiny cage, enveloped in tiny, glimmering lights.

He was suddenly hyper aware of the bracelet around his ankle. The unwelcome feeling of its strap pressing against his skin. An ugly, black, clunky thing. It hadn’t come off since that first day.

He was thinking too much for the amount of tequila he’d ingested, and was rudely reminded of that when his throat clenched up and he realized he’d meant to get water several minutes ago. He turned and blinked again, jostling his twirling stream of consciousness, yet he hadn’t so much as another moment to himself as he was nearly toppled into by a drunk girl with red hair. Brie, some part of him remembered. She was a regular.

She said something to him. He couldn’t make it out over the blasting music. She was holding something.

Make that two things.

She offered him a hand. A blue Jello-shot.

He shook his head, a slightly slurred “Am’good.”

She stepped in closer, sliding her free hand up his chest, “Yeah? I can see that, pretty boy. But we’re just getting started with you.”

Her voice rang clear this time, and Seven felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He just wished they would all leave him alone. What on earth would she make him do this time?

“Please, come on, Brie, I just need some water, I–”

“And I just want you to take a shot with me!” She smiled cheerfully, as if he would have any choice in the matter.

“Now, you can be a good boy and we’ll do it together. It’ll be fun! Or, we can do this the hard way, and I can have the boys hold you down again.”

The memory of being grabbed and harshly shoved to his knees, his arms wrenched behind him and his hair pulled up, of being force-fed liquor like a pathetic dog—

Fuck—he was gonna gag again.

He knew he couldn’t get out of this, but maybe he could stall and buy himself some time to metabolize the tequila Wes had made him drink earlier.

“Please! I swear I just need a minute, I just—”

“Yeah, isn't that a shame? Cuz I want to do it now.”

She turned and called out into the crowd, her red curls bouncing as she moved. And like a supervillain summoning two goons, a pair of hulking jocks seemingly materialized behind her.

Seven froze, two pairs of eyes locking onto his like predators eyeing their next meal. Seven couldn’t even remember their names. Didn’t want to. The tall one with the curly hair and the slightly less-tall one with that awful sneer—they never missed a chance to rough Seven up.

Just like that, they were on him. The tall one kicked out his right knee while the other twisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head down. There was a burst of white light when he hit the floor face-first, hot wetness splattering under the clash of his temple against the tile.

Fuck. Fuckk. It was all white for a moment. Then Seven couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel his entire body. He felt weightless all of a sudden, he’d forgotten where he was, he was hurling through a vortex, somewhere far away, far from this penthouse and the music and the booze. It was a heavy, dull pulsating that stirred him back to whatever half-lucid dream this was. He was lying on something. A hard surface. Fuckk. Where was he?

“Where am I…” his lips moved. No one heard him.

Then the pounding in his temple began to slowly morph when the bass of the music faded back in, thumping against the inside of his skull like an alarm he just wanted to sleep through.

He groaned, and he was reminded, slowly, that this was indeed music, that he was lying on a hard surface and that his head fucking hurt.

He was coming back to himself by the second now and dreaded his position, the memory of reality. To be painfully and blissfully whisked away, if only for a moment—reality hit him harder than the tile flooring.

He was just grateful he’d had the reflex to turn his head. He’d been slammed into the floor enough times to know that failing to do so meant a broken nose.

He was still reeling from the blow when he felt his wrists grabbed. He knew what came next. He tried to struggle against the hands, but he still couldn’t see straight and fuck he was so dizzy everything was whirring too fast. Arms double the size of his own yanked him up into a kneeling position. He felt hands pressing his wrists together, another hand was in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing his spine to arch painfully.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Just do it already, he thought, hoping she’d be finished with him if he just took the shot and left it at that. He should have just taken it the first time. God dammit.

He cried out and his head snapped to the side. Brie had slapped him.

“Pay attention!” She was excited. Smiling in that cheerful beautiful way that would make anyone shocked at the cruelty she was capable of.

She leaned in, sliding her hand down the side of Seven’s reddening cheek, his jawline—he bristled when she reached his collarbone, his sternum, until she was fiddling with the button on his shirt, flicking it until it came free. Seven felt a whine of embarrassment leave his throat, thankfully deafened by the music.

She flicked open a second button and Seven thrashed against the hands that held him, twisting this way and that, giving all his strength for a brief few moments of valiant effort before he felt the back of Brie’s rings cut across his other cheek. He had no time to recover—she grabbed his face and dug her pink nails into the sides of his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. She held the shot up, and he shuddered with the taste of what he knew was coming.

“Now, I was gonna let you use a spoon, but since you decided to be a bitch about it, you can lick it out with your tongue.”

Seven whimpered. Fuck, he was really going to have to do this.

“Go on. You can either eat it from my hands, or off the floor like a dog. Your choice.”

As if there was ever a choice.

Seven complied, scooping the blue jello from the cup with his tongue, and swallowing obediently. It was the only way out. He just prayed she’d be satisfied and leave him alone so he could slink off into a corner somewhere where no one would find him for the rest of the night.

Brie laughed, delighted. She ruffled his hair with her manicured hand. “Good boy!” she exclaimed. As though he really were a dog performing some kind of trick.

He supposed that his obedience was the trick. He was the trick. The dog. Even his title was a farce. Servant. Like his cleaning ever did this place any good. They all treated it like a trap house, anyway.

His stomach was in knots. At least he had done it. He thrashed against the men that still held him.

“Aren't you gonna—” his tone slipped. He caught himself. Be respectful. Plead.

“Please, Brie, jus’ lemme go.” His head was pounding, still bleeding from being slammed against the floor. Everything hurt. As he said it, he realized he might just topple over if they were to release him now.

“Hmm..” Brie posed her hand against her chin, in mocking consideration.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

She smiled, “I’ve remembered how much I like you this way. You’re just so cute!” She ruffled his hair again. He twisted his head to the side, trying to avoid her hand. That earned him another slap. Harder than the others. Seven seemed to have run out of chances.

“Mikey!” She exclaimed to the goon on the left, “Tie him up!”

The hulking man chuckled. “Looks like he hasn't had enough yet.”

The goon, Mikey, released Seven’s left arm, only for the other man to grab it immediately, twisting both arms behind his back and pressing him down to the floor. Seven didn’t struggle this time, fears of a broken nose or worse running through his mind as his face was rubbed into the smear of his own blood. He let it happen.

There was a knee on his back, pressing him hard against the tile. He felt a thick leather strap encircle his wrists, cinching tightly before the hands released his arms and tangled back in his hair, yanking his head up until he was kneeling again. He tested the leather, pulling to see if it would give, but it seemed he’d been successfully restrained with no more than a leather belt.

“Aww, come on Seven, that was nothing! Surely you can take more than that.”

By this point, they were really starting to draw a crowd. Dark figures gathered around him, laughing and swirling, their faces shrouded into dark silhouettes.

“Please,” he begged, “W-water…”

No one heard him.

“I've got somethin for him!” one guy shouted, approaching through the crowd with what looked to be a jar in his hands.

“Ooo lemme see!” Brie turned, thrilled, “No way. You got Moonshine Maraschinos? Where did you even find these?”

Seven paused his struggling, confused. He hadn’t heard of that before. He imagined it would be painful, whatever it was.

“My buddy makes ‘em himself,” the man declared proudly, no doubt invigorated by Brie’s approval. “Best moonshine around. Won’t find nothing stronger than these.” He tapped the lid of the jar.

“Well? Chop chop!!” She clapped her hands at him impatiently. “I’m not opening that thing myself.”

When the lid was open, Brie reached in and withdrew her hand, her pink fingertips clasped around the stem of a single red cherry. She turned to Seven, leaning down and dangling it in front of his face.

Seven twisted and scrambled away, “No! Wait, please I jus’ need—” He made it a few feet before one of Brie’s goons caught him by the hair. He let out a yelp as he was dragged backwards, and thrown back down at her feet. His knees cracked against the tile again and he knew they would be beyond bruised by morning.

“Oh Sevennn,” Brie sang from above him, “Did you think I was finished with you? That it would be that easy? I haven’t even told you what they are yet! Don’t you wanna know?”

Held tightly in place by the goons, Seven said nothing, indignant and content to stare her down until she did the inevitable.

She let out a big, dramatic breath. “Since you didn't ask, I might as well tell you. These are maraschino cherries, sugar cherries. Soaked in moonshine. You’ve heard of moonshine, haven’t you?”

He grit his teeth and scowled. Her tone was beyond patronizing, but he had not, in fact, heard of moonshine.

“No,” was all he said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel it soon enough.”

Before he could react, her hand was on his face again, pinching his cheeks until his mouth opened. She dangled the cherry over his parted lips. He could still see her smiling over him. Fuck—why did she have to drag this out?

She lowered the cherry into his mouth, and he took it obediently. He swallowed and immediately gagged when she released his face. It tasted awful. Like someone had soaked a cherry in rubbing alcohol for 8-10 business months. He supposed that was probably exactly what it was.

She fed him three more before the goons finally released him. Seven curled in on himself at once, folded over with his hands still bound behind him, just trying to quell the nausea in the pit of his stomach. His throat burned, and he couldn’t get that god awful taste of moonshine out of his mouth—out of his nose—his head.

He collapsed onto his side, his shoulder hissing with pain when it hit the floor. He begged for water. No one heard him.

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Seven was floating somewhere. Somewhere high, high above. Diving in the starry depths that loomed overhead, just above the ceiling plaster.

His mind was elsewhere, but his body remained curled on the floor, crumbling between hyperventilation and bouts of nausea that made him gag, when he felt the tip of a shoe jab him hard in the ribs.

He ignored it. The shoe persisted, jabbing him harder and harder until it kicked him ruthlessly in the ribs.

He groaned in pain and stirred, coughing, as he awkwardly propped himself up on one elbow with his hands still bound uselessly at the small of his back.

Slowly, he managed to look up, and felt his liquor-soaked blood run cold. Wes’ hulking shadow loomed over him.

“Well, don’t you look fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat.

Seven could hear that he was smiling. Wes continued, wiping slick strands of hair across his forehead, “Looks like they already got you tied nice and tight, you want some more?”

Seven scrambled back, “No—no’more, please!–”

Wes didn’t give time for Seven to escape. Grabbing his collar and yanking him forward, he forced that now half-drunken bottle of silver tequila right to his lips.

Wes’ other hand found Seven’s hair and yanked it back again, following with the bottle until Seven was nearly bent in half limbo-style.

For several agonizing seconds, Wes’ hand in his hair was all that held him up as he was forced to chug that horrible nauseating poison. It was. It was straight poison. And Seven would never be free of it. Free of them. Free of him.

Too many seconds—let up Wes for the love of god please—let up!—god—Seven begged in his head, tears falling and whimpering, he gagged mid-gulp and felt lukewarm, stinging poison spill from his lips and run down his chin, before Wes pulled the bottle away and released his hair.

He collapsed instantly, coughing and retching and curling in on himself when his knees hit the floor and he felt his kneecaps ring.

They thought it was funny to get him drunk like this. Just because they could.

Seven lay on the floor for, he didn’t know how long. Someone finally brought him water. He didn’t know who. There was a light touch on his shoulder, the gentle cupping of the back of his neck, guiding him towards a red solo cup. He flinched away before he realized its contents didn’t reek like its predecessors. It was water.

He was back on his knees so fast it made his head spin with heavy vertigo, swallowing him in swirling molasses for several moments as he tried to stop the blurry red shape in front of him from oscillating back and forth.

That hand was back around his neck again, gripping, but not squeezing. Holding his chin and guiding him towards the water. He tried to reach for the cup. His arms did not budge. He remembered now, slowly and to his detriment, that no one at this party had any intention of releasing him from his belted circumstance any time soon.

He decided he didn’t care. There was no time to care when there was water.

He lurched his head forward when his lips touched the plastic, causing the cup to tip too fast and the water to cascade down his face and neck and his exposed chest.

He didn’t care, gulping it up at a breakneck speed until every drop was gone.

His savior pulled her hand away and he gasped and bent forward, realizing the front of his shirt was soaked through.

He probably looked like a mess.

He didn’t care.

This was no place for pride.

He just hoped he’d survive the night.

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Oh boy that was a long one! Let me know if you have any suggestions/requests on what to do to him next :3

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apomaro-mellow · 10 months ago

Text

King&Prince 11

Steve had spent the rest of the day alone in his room. He had a feeling the only reason that happened was because the king himself had given an order to the kids not to bother him at all. Most of the hours he sat at the window sill, looking out onto the land that was supposed to be cursed.

But it was quite the same as the land he'd been raised on. What other lies had his family told about this place? About these people? There were still things Steve didn't understand. It felt like a puzzle had been formed with mixed pieces that no longer fit together.

He wondered how long his father took to make his decision to abandon him. Had he paced around? Had he weighed his options at all? Or had it been an immediate breath of relief when he was able to rid himself of his son? Then he thought about his mother.

She was always softer on him, but in the end never failed to side with her husband. Steve felt he couldn't begrudge her for that, but still wished to know if she argued with him even the smallest bit when he did this.

Steve thought he had known his worth. He might not be the son his parents wanted, but he was still a son. Still a crown prince, born and raised to one day rule. They had put so much work into him. They wanted to send him away, yes, but to be trained and come back even more prepared for his future role as king. They were tossing him away like it all meant nothing.

Well they could always make anoth-

He felt the burn of tears coming on before the thought even finished. They would, wouldn't they? They'd just start over with another child. One that they'd bring up right. They would forget all about Steve. They might even go as far as to strike his name from the record. What need would they have to remember him? He had accomplished nothing under their parentage. Nothing of note to them anyway.

So what was next then? What could he accomplish here? Suppose the king wasn't playing a trick and actually meant what he said. That Steve would be under his protection. What would he be allowed to do? What could he pursue?

Well, he made a pretty good pack mule. Maybe manual labor was in his future. Steve laughed to himself at that. From royal heir, to prisoner, to humble servant. He didn't realize how long he'd been in thought until it started to get dark around him. He turned away from the window, about to start getting ready for bed when he heard a tapping and caw.

There was a raven at the window.

Its wings flapped and it was carrying something in its talons, wrapped in paper. Steve looked at it warily and then the bird cawed again in what sounded like annoyance. Steve opened the window and the bird flew in, dropping its package onto the bed. The bird nudged it towards Steve with its beak.

"You brought that for me?", Steve asked.

The raven cawed.

Steve opened it up carefully and inside was a sandwich. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten much today. He then looked to the bird. "You must be one of the king's messengers?"

The raven's expression was unreadable, but then again he supposed most birds' were. Steve sat on the bed and reached forward to pet the top of its head then under its chin. The raven leaned into it like it was enjoying the scratches.

"You can tell your master...thank you. And here." Steve opened the sandwich and took out some of the meat. "Your delivery fee."

The raven took it carefully into its mouth, cawed at Steve, and then left out of the window into the darkening sky.

This felt like another olive branch. The king assuring him that he was safe here. Steve didn't know what his role would be, what he could accomplish or pursue. But he had the feeling that he might be given the time and the space to decide that for himself.

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

The next morning, Steve got ready and was about to leave his room in search of breakfast only to find the king, fist poised to knock.

"Your Majesty?"

"Y-your Highness. Good morning. Didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I'm an early riser by nature", Steve said.

"Then you're just in time for breakfast."

Steve was led down the halls but this time instead of going towards the kitchens, they went into a different room. There was a grand table and at it Robin and Nancy already sat. There was the man from the ambush that Steve recognized but didn't know the name of. King Edward-no Eddie, his name was Eddie, wait, was Steve allowed to call him that? Safer to keep it formal for now. Anyway, the king took his seat at the head of the table.

The only open seat was at the other end, so Steve took it. Nancy didn't look too happy to see him but it wasn't so much that Steve worried about poison in his food. Breakfast was served and the other four mostly kept the conversation going while Steve sat silently chewing. They seemed to be discussing the proceedings of an event happening soon.

It reminded Steve of the festivities happening back home. People would be coming out more, having picnics, and the seasonal fruits that could be enjoyed now.

"So you're not even going to put a leash on him?", Nancy asked, getting Steve's attention.

Eddie grinned. "I'm rather certain his bark his worse than his bite."

"Care to put that to the test?", Steve asked with a raised brow.

"I'd advice against stepping into an arena with Eddie", Jeff said.

"I know I look like a wispy thing, but I can be a heavy hitter", Eddie said, twirling a fork full of egg around.

"I'll believe it when I see it", Steve said. One of the few things he was confident in was his ability to fight.

"I think your time is best spent tutoring someone less trained", Eddie said.

"...You mean Lucas?"

"You want him training Lucas?", Robin asked, jabbing her thumb toward Steve.

"Why not?", Eddie shrugged. "One couldn't ask for a better teacher than a prince."

Steve didn't think it was meant as a compliment. But something warm in his body swelled like it was. Right as breakfast finished, Nancy produced a sheet of parchment and walked it over to Steve, placing it in front of him.

"Your new schedule."

"You made me a schedule?"

"It was the only way she'd allow you free reign of the castle without a binding spell", Eddie said.

Steve had been looking over the assignments when Eddie's words sunk in. He looked up, feeling a mix of awe, confusion, and gratitude. "You're...giving me free reign of the castle?" Of his home?

Eddie smiled in a way that seemed more genuine. "I see no harm in it. Like I said, you're not a prisoner. Think of it as something like an exchange program. Princes travel abroad all the time, don't they?"

Steve looked at the schedule. He noted that each thing had someone with him, almost like a chaperone, sometimes multiple people. If Nancy was the one making this, he was sure it was intentional. But he understood. He hadn't fully proven himself as trustworthy. For the first time, Steve considered if he might kill Eddie if given the chance.

Would his father welcome him back with open arms then?

He shook off the thought, already knowing the answer. If he killed Eddie there was nothing good in it for him.

"When do I start?"

Part 13

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie

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gold-pavilion · 1 year ago

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Hanafuda references in Izana & Kakucho

I love how full of references all of Tokyo Revengers is, so here's a thread about the links to hanafuda around Izana and his kingdom!! Cause it's a week till S3 and I'm excited!!

As expected, his earrings are the best place to start from.

So first of all, I'll explain what the hanafuda deck is and which card from it they're representing.

Even though they only contain pictures without any visible numeric value or indicator, hanafuda are playing cards. They surfaced exactly like this in order to avoid prohibitions around gambling way back in the Edo period, when foreign playing cards were banned. These slipped much more easily under the radar.

As such, hanafuda became kind of a discreet symbol of the illegal. Peony cards were a sign of prostitution, for one, and the whole deck was a staple of gambling. Which is why, even though that time passed and hanafuda cards did stay as regular playing cards, it's fun to have the leader of a criminal group wear one.

Izana's card is the Full Moon, a highly-ranked card within the game (one of the 5 "lights" or "bright cards" which give the most points).

The hanafuda deck is distributed by months, in 12 groups of 4 cards each; each month also has an assigned flower/tree that appears in the 4 cards, visually tying them together. This card of the full moon over the pampa is part of the August set, matching Izana's birthday month!

But the hanafuda references aren't only around him. Moving on to his servant:

Kakucho's name (just Kakucho, mistakenly believed to have a surname due to a faulty fantranslation) is made of the kanji 鶴 (kaku) and 蝶 (chou), which mean "crane" and "butterfly". Both hanafuda cards.

The crane card is part of the January set and is one of the Lights, as it also depicts the sun over the pine trees. Being a Light, getting it alongside the full moon card is really advantageous and can build you some of the most point-earning hands. The butterfly card is part of the June set, depicting butterflies over a peony flower.

Both cranes and butterflies are thematically assigned to Kakucho! Taking a close look at his volume cover outfit, a crane pattern can be seen on the fabric, as well as a butterfly wing shape on the bottom of the jacket. Motifs that Wakui selected carefully for him.

( scan/translated commentary from @yokohamabeans )

What's more… take a look at Izana's recent illustration for the Nov 2023 TR Expo, 'cause it's pretty interesting in this regard.

Aside from the peacock motif and the yin-yang that were used for this outfit, there's a little cameo on the inside of the jacket: a crane. If you zoom in and take a good look at the bird's head, you can tell it apart from the peacocks. And another one, even harder to spot, so tiny that @anantagonist had to point it out to me: a butterfly, right above that.

No other Tenjiku member is linked to hanafuda references (the Haitani brothers have their assigned flowers, neither happens to match the flowers depicted in the deck), but Izana and Kakucho sure are closely linked through it. It's something they alone share.

Isn't it cool? Let me know if you dig this kind of reference-listing posts, 'cause with TR there is so much to dig into.

#tokyo revengers #tr meta #kakucho #izana #kurokawa izana #kakuchou #kakuiza #izakaku #references in media #tokyo rev #thoughts and talk and so

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kesujo · 1 month ago

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Chapter 10: Miss Athletic

Previous chapter here.

When Taeyeon mentioned to Seojun he was free to use the house however he wished when both she and Tiffany were away, playfully adding on that those would be the ideal times to bring over girls, Seojun didn’t actually think he’d be bringing home someone any time soon. Yet here he was, bringing home a girl when both of his mistresses were away on some business.

“Wow, this place is huge…”

That being said, Seojun didn’t know how to proceed. Usually, it was pretty straightforward with a succubus, but from all that Seojun could tell, Boa (as she liked to be called) was a normal, female human being. She was every bit stunning as a succubus normally would be, which was why Seojun’s first assumption upon seeing her was that she was one, but as they talked, he began to consider differently. It was ironic, in a way; not months prior, Seojun wouldn’t have even thought to consider anyone to be anything but a human being, but after being immersed in the world of demons, his first thought was to jump to that conclusion. Reminding himself that most females he would meet would, in fact, be human was a good thing to keep in mind going forward.

But, now what, now that they were at his residence?

Boa did present herself as flirtatious, but that wasn’t the go-ahead to jump straight into sex. Should they watch a movie or something first?

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure! What do you have?”

“Let me check.”

While Seojun perused the kitchen for beverages, Boa sat on the living room couch Seojun directed her to, looking around in awe. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you really rich or something?”

Seojun smiled to himself.

After concluding that Boa was most likely a normal human being, Seojun made sure to mask his involvement in the world of the supernatural. While it was never explicitly told to him, Seojun understood it as an implied rule that demons and involved parties should keep their existence a secret. And he wasn’t about to break that rule to a woman he just met, even for a woman as charming as Boa.

“I guess you could say that, although I don’t live here myself. My roommate is out on business right now, so I have the place to myself for today.”

“I see.”

“We have soju, but we also have wine if you want that. There’s also some vodka and mixers if you wanted to make something for yourself.”

Boa laughed. “Wow, you even have expensive tastes, huh?” One of Boa’s main charming points, to Seojun, was her laughter. It was very unique: it could be described as dainty, or maybe drawn-out and breathy, as if she was trying to sustain notes for a second or two at a time in the cadence of laughter. “Soju sounds great!” As Seojun collected the bottle and picked out two shot glasses, Boa chimed in again. “Not one for furniture, are you? Or is that at the behest of your roommate?”

He couldn’t just say that it was because the additional open space allowed Taeyeon to stretch out her wings wherever she wanted inside the house and not have to worry about knocking things over. “Yeah, I’m pretty content with what we have already.”

When Seojun brought over the bottle along with two shot glasses, the slightly tan woman looked over and beamed at him. “Thanks! I—oh, wow, your arm is pretty big.”

One thing Seojun didn’t expect as a result of finishing the Servant Ritual with Tiffany was for him to gain so much muscle. Tiffany explained the perk of being her Servant is that his stamina explosively increased to match Tiffany’s own Trait, and the increased muscle mass was a means to that end. Although he did start working out more, since Taeyeon was still his personal trainer and all, seeing such drastic change in his body almost felt like cheating. Not that he complained about how much better he looked, and apparently also how much better he looked to girls.

“I’ve been working out a lot recently.”

“Oh, really?” Seojun nodded, taking his first sip of his drink after sitting down next to her on the couch. “Same! We should go together some time! Which gym do you go to?”

What was the name of the gym, even? Seojun always referred to it as ‘Taeyeon’s Gym’ in his mind and ‘the gym’ when talking about it with Taeyeon … what was it even called? “It’s a pretty small one, I don’t remember what it was called though…”

Boa laughed at that. “You’re that focused, huh?”

Seojun ended up smiling—not necessarily at her comment, but at her twinkling laughter. Its happiness was so infectious, it was hard not to smile. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“I bet you have your own personal trainer, with how rich you are.”

Did he want to even admit that he was living with his personal trainer? That might lead to a line of questions that made Boa realize it was strange for a personal trainer to live in such a big house, and that wouldn’t be good for the secrecy he was trying to maintain, so he ended up saying, “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“Oh, a she…” Oh wait. Did he mess up? Was he not supposed to reveal the gender of his personal trainer? Was it improper to talk about other women to the woman he brought home? “I bet I can show you some exercises that she couldn’t.”

Instead of taking on a jealous tone, Boa instead took upon a competitive one. Seojun could see the fire in her eyes, but also within it a hidden element of playfulness that seemed slightly different than the one she used at the café. “Oh?”

“Let’s move this table,” she said, emptying her glass with a final swig before setting it on said table. Seojun followed suit before bending over and, in one fluid motion, picked up the entire table. “Oh wow, look at you! You make that table look so light~”

Seojun grinned, pleased his efforts to show off paid off well. “It’s not that bad.” That was a lie; Seojun could feel his muscles straining, having to take careful steps to both manage the weight of the hefty piece of furniture while balancing the glasses sitting atop it. But Boa didn’t need to know that. Maybe this Succubus Servant glow-up he experienced in the last few days was starting to get to his head—but as someone who never got female attention to suddenly swimming in it, it was hard not let it get to his head.

After placing the table gently outside the living room, the sight he was met with when he turned his head back towards Boa made his jaw drop to the floor.

Boa had her back facing him, having already placed her neatly folded pants on the couch and was currently stripping off her top. Although she didn’t quite have the curves Jessica or Tiffany or Sunny had, she made up for in the well-defined lean muscle she sported on her legs and glutes. As she folded the shirt in her arms, she turned around and shot Seojun a dazzling smile. “Like what you see?”

Seojun nodded. “You look great, Boa.” She might’ve been even smaller than Taeyeon or Yeoreum, but her body was definitely built more athletically. She looked like she might’ve jumped right out of the magazine cover of Sports Illustrated—if Sports Illustrated was more erotic in nature, that is.

“Join me,” she said, beckoning to him with a finger. Like a moth to a lantern, Seojun obeyed, throwing off his shirt in a much wilder fashion than Boa. “Oh, wow…” Before, her surprised exclamation was brighter and more flirtatious; this time, her voice had taken a huskier tone, her lustful eyes swallowing up the six-pack that had developed on Seojun’s lower chest.

“We aren’t going to stretch before we start?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint, “You’re about to stretch out my pussy, aren’t you?” As Seojun whipped his pants and boxers off, revealing his semi-erect cock, Boa suddenly froze. It was her jaw’s turn to drop to the floor this time, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. Her tongue quickly darted out of her mouth, wetting her lips. “Oh yeah, that’ll definitely stretch me out quite well.”

“It’s not even fully erect yet.”

Boa shot him a disbelieving stare. “Stop lying! How can that get any—oh my god…” Seojun felt himself getting harder and harder as she continued to stare, turning fully around to get a proper look at it. “Wow, I don’t even know if I can fit that inside me…”

Seojun tried not to stare too hard at her perky nipples sitting atop her relatively small breasts. Despite their size, they were still extremely shapely and looked incredibly soft and made him want to feel them up, both with his hands and his face. All boobs were great boobs, that was Seojun’s motto. “That’s why we exercise, isn’t it? To improve ourselves?”

Boa nodded, eyes stuck to Seojun’s cock like a magnet. As if in a trance, she got down to her knees, hands reaching out and wrapping around his veiny member. Seojun hissed, the delicate, soft touch from the slightly tanned woman causing his arousal to deepen. “Oh my god, it’s getting bigger…”

“What was that exercise you were gonna show me?”

“I’ll need to do some preparations before I show you,” was her reply promptly before diving headfirst onto his dick.

Seojun let out a guttural moan, the sudden sensation of her soft lips encircling his cock and her wet tongue licking around its circumference. His legs and arms tensed, but was somehow able to restrain himself from grabbing her head and shoving her the rest of the way. And from how she barely was able to swallow a third of his cock before stopping, that was probably a good thing.

“It’s so hot … your balls feel so heavy with cum,” she noted, gently caressing his testicles, “For me?”

“Only if you earn it.”

Boa grinned. “Well, better get started then,” she said, leaning forward while sticking her tongue out. Another hiss escaped Seojun’s mouth as her tongue pressed against the underside of his member, carefully coating the rest of his cock with a layer of saliva. The slurping sounds and the way the wet, pink muscle seemed to linger on his dick made him all the hornier for when Boa pulled back, satisfied, and turned back around.

“What kind of…” Seojun trailed off, watching Boa lower her torso onto the carpeted floor of the living room, craning her back downwards with her legs folded under her stomach, accentuating her firm butt that was now facing him. Hidden between the two plump cheeks laid her cleanly shaven pussy, its pink folds barely shimmering in the room’s light.

“First, grab—oh!” Boa was promptly cut off when Seojun kneeled down behind her, placing his right hand gently on her ass.

“You need some preparation too,” Seojun told her, reaching between her cheeks with his index and middle finger to press against the beautiful, pink lips covering her womanhood.

“Ooh…” she gasped, a shiver going down her body as Seojun rubbed the moist folds sensually. “Seojun…”

“You’re already a little wet, but I think you need a little more, don’t you?”

“Fuck, your fingers feel so g—good!” The last words were spoken in a surprised squeal when Seojun pushed the two digits inside her briefly. But, just as quickly as they entered her, they left, leaving Boa with a dissatisfied whine. “Seojun…”

“You’re so sexy, Boa, and so responsive.” To emphasize his point, Seojun brushed her clit with his thumb, causing the mewling woman to nearly jump at the rush of dopamine rushing through her system.

“God, Seojun…” Her back arched more, pushing her hips and her plush bottom further towards him, as if encouraging him to continue doing what he was doing. However, feeling fickle, Seojun refused.

“I think you’re about wet enough,” he said, cleaning off the juices that rubbed off onto his fingers before backing away from her. “You were going to show me an exercise?”

“Oh…” Seojun had to hold in a chuckle at the disappointment that was so obviously in her voice, but it didn’t last long for Boa’s peppy energy to return. “Right! Grab onto my feet and lift them up to about your chest level.” Seojun followed her command, splitting her legs by grabbing an ankle in each hand and lifting them off the ground. As he did so, Boa similarly pushed herself off the ground, her palms planted firmly on the floor. “You’ll probably have to pull my ankles a little bit behind you to reach me.”

“Reach…?” Seojun’s question dissipated as he looked forward and down, at the now glistening folds of Boa’s pussy.

“Go on, stuff my tight little pussy with that monster of yours.” As the words left her mouth, Seojun pulled her legs backwards, leaning his upper body forward to make sure the tip of his dick was properly aligned with her core. “Oh!” Another surprised squeal erupted from Boa as Seojun steadied his hands, properly aligning their sexes while incidentally slathering his swollen tip with her juices before pushing them past her pussy lips and into her core.

The two moaned in unison, Seojun only able to push in half of his length before meeting resistance.

“Oh, god … fuck, it’s so big.”

The tightness with which Boa’s pussy gripped his dick was like no other, even better than any of the succubae he’d fucked before. Not only was it blisteringly hot, the damp, fleshy walls exerted a kind of pressure on his shaft that almost made it feel like he was in danger of losing circulation to his reproductive organ, and might’ve actually been concerned were he not supernaturally enhanced not once, but twice by now.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, Boa,” Seojun managed to grunt, pulling his cock out before pushing further in with the combined thrust from his hips and backwards pulling motion on her ankles with his arms. “Are you trying to cut off my dick?”

Boa let out another lascivious moan, her back arching, her arms holding her upper body in the air trembling slightly as her pussy sucked in more of Seojun’s penis. “I’m—I’m sorry! Please, punish my naughty little pussy!”

Despite how tight Boa was, the progress he was able to make was extraordinary. It only took a few more thrusts for Seojun to find himself completely buried inside the athletically built woman, who was showing no signs of duress from essentially being in a primed pushup position, with her legs suspended in midair as opposed to resting on the ground.

“Your naughty little pussy is working really hard, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, fuck,” Boa moaned, juices splattering onto his groin with every thrust, “It’s been so long since it’s been stretched out this much…”

“And I thought you were trying to show me an exercise.”

Boa giggled. “I thought we could start off with this one to get me accustomed to your size. But now that you’re fully inside me, fuck do I feel like you’re splitting me apart.”

Hearing that invigorated Seojun more, earning Boa another squeal of pleasure as he increased the vigor and intensity of his thrusts. “You’re so light,” Seojun grunted, having a little difficulty getting words out with the strength he was exerting trying to pump Boa’s insanely tight pussy, “this is barely a proper workout on my arms.”

“Aw, how sweet of you,” Boa said, giggling slightly. “In that case, do you wanna try the next exercise?”

After some difficulty extracting his dick from Boa’s tight snatch, she quickly transitioned into a face-up laying-down position, directing him to kneel between her legs. She then rested her right leg atop his left leg while lifting her other leg up and resting it on his shoulder. “Go on, come back inside,” she said, her hands sensually rubbing her ample bust.

Seojun took a few seconds to admire the flopping wet, pink folds of Boa’s pussy, realizing this was the first human female he’s ever had sex with. That being the case, how could she be tighter than a succubus? He wasn’t sure if it was the novelty of Boa being a human being or if it was something else, but he swore that Boa’s pussy felt better than anyone else’s. If only he could—

“Wait.”

When the sudden realization dawned on Seojun, his face paled. Boa, seeing this, looked at him with a questioning gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Shouldn’t I be wearing a condom?”

Hearing that caused Boa to break out into a smile which eventually grew into laughter. “How sweet of you to think of that!” Ever since he lost his virginity, Seojun never had to worry about protection; after all, he never had to worry about impregnating a succubus or any STDs or anything. But, now that he was dealing with a human female, those concerns were a problem, right? Seojun hoped he didn’t come across as shallow or rude or anything, which judging from Boa’s response, didn’t seem to be an issue. “You don’t have to worry about any of that, you won’t be getting me pregnant any time soon.”

Hearing that made Seojun breathe a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I—”

“Do you fuck barebacked a lot?”

“It’s not that, no,” he lied, “it’s just, seeing you got me so excited that I forgot about all of that.” Now that he thought about it, did they even have any condoms in the house? Taeyeon mentioned how he was free to fuck human females, but never mentioned anything about protection. Maybe he should start buying some…

“That’s sweet of you,” she said, smiling, “I would’ve said something if I cared about that,” she said. Was she on birth control? Or maybe she had some kind of surgery? Whatever it was, Seojun paid no more heed to the topic; she seemed trustworthy enough, and there were more important matters at hand anyway. “Now, are you going to just stare, or are you going to get back into your workout?”

This time, Seojun obliged, using the downward penetrating angle to push his length back into the fiery inferno of Boa’s pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Boa gasped, her back arching as the slick rod slipped back into her hole. Her eyes slammed shut, fingers subconsciously going to her swollen nipples and pinching them with as much ferocity as Seojun used shoving his cock back inside Boa.

Using Boa’s left leg slung over his shoulder as leverage, he dug his knees into the carpeted floor and thrusted at the downward angle. However, this time, without having to worry about the stability of their position, the process was much smoother—that, combined with the hot visual of seeing Boa play with her breasts and her ecstatic face of pleasure turned Seojun on even more. Barely a minute into settling into this new position, they had already reestablished their momentum: Boa lifted her butt slightly off the floor, meeting each of Seojun’s thrusts with an upward bucking of her hips while the manic, lust-filled man drilled relentlessly into the smaller woman below him. The wet slapping sound of their groins, damp with the juices sputtering out onto both of their gonads with every thrust, connecting soon joined the chorus of erotic sounds filling the house.

“I-I bet you aren’t getting these types of workout sessions with your personal trainer.”

Seojun thought to Taeyeon and the numerous times they’ve fucked, but surprisingly, now that he thought about it, never once during their workouts. Seeing Taeyeon in her gym outfit never failed to turn him on, but their focus was always the workout, not sex. He’s even gotten a titjob at the gym curtesy of Sunny, but never anything from Taeyeon. “You’re right, I’m not.”

“Are you feeling it yet, in your abs and glutes?”

To this, Seojun shook his head. “It’ll take more than a few minutes of this to get me tired.”

Boa smiled, a mixture of arousal and amusement on her lips. “Can you last until you cum?”

Instead of answering with words, Seojun elected to answer with renewed vigor, another surprised, lust-filled moan erupting from Boa’s lips. This time, instead of just relying on his hips, Seojun used his grip of her leg to pull her towards him in conjunction, spreading his legs out for a more solid foundation.

“Fuck, Seojun!”

Panting sounds started to intersperse her moans and gasps, her breathing growing heavier, and her chest rising and falling at a faster rate. “Are you close?”

She nodded, fingers desperately rubbing on the rock-hard teats of her breasts. “Yes, so close…”

While all the signs of her impending orgasm deepened his arousal, what did it was the tightening of what already felt like a death-grip her pussy had on his shaft. “Do you want it?”

She nodded again. “Yes, please~”

The transformation from the cheerful, bright girl she was to the mewling, submissive adulteress she was now only added to the heights of arousal Seojun was experiencing. “You want it inside?”

“Yes!”

“You want me to pump your naughty, tight, slutty pussy with my cum?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

Seojun couldn’t help but grin, a surge of pride swelling inside his chest at the fact that he managed to get such a stunning woman to be begging for his semen. “Then here’s your reward.” With a final grunt, he pushed his length all the way inside Boa one last time before unleashing, unloading stream after stream of his hot, sticky substance straight into the womb of the mess of a woman that was laying before him.

“Fuck—Seojun, it’s—fuck, it’s so hot!”

By the time Seojun’s orgasm subsided, slivers of his seed were already trickling out of their hot connection. Boa laid on her back, panting heavily, her arms splayed out messily on both sides. “Well, I think at least your pussy got a pretty good workout, taking the beating it just did.”

The competitive fire reignited at her words. “Are you saying you need more to get a proper workout?”

Seojun grinned back. “I’m saying I could go for round two if you’re not too tired already.”

Boa happily took the challenge, staying in her face-up laid down position, but this time, instructing Seojun to hover over her in a primed pushup position. She then swung her legs over his waist and secured them behind his butt, her soaking wet pussy lips licking the swollen tip of his dick. “You’ll have to do pushups to get your orgasm this time. Let’s see how long you can last now.”

Seojun felt a surge of competitiveness within himself, readily taking on the challenge by starting with the first pushup. A pleased hum reverberated through Boa’s throat as his dick was reinserted into her hot core, her breasts brushing against his chest as he held his body in the lowered position for a few seconds before pushing himself back up. “One.”

“Do you think you can last until fifty?”

“Do you?”

Boa grinned back. “Try me.”

Seojun lowered himself again, this time maneuvering himself so that he could plant a kiss on the supple skin on her boobs before pushing himself back up. “Two.”

“God, Seojun, you’re really stretching me out so much … God really blessed you with that dick, huh?”

To a normal human being, someone like Sunny could be considered a Goddess. She certainly wielded the powers of one, and Seojun considered her one himself because of the augmentation she blessed him with. Of course, none of this were things he could share, so he ended up just saying, “He did.”

“And now, I’m getting blessed by getting fucked by it.”

Instead of answering, Seojun completed another pushup. “Three.”

While Seojun was doing most of the work, Boa wasn’t being completely inactive. In order to give Seojun the best angle of penetration, she had to keep her lower body angled upwards, her legs that were wrapped around Seojun’s waist following the up-and-down motion of Seojun’s pushups. In order to ensure his dick never slipped out, Boa had to push her hips up, but only slightly since of his exceptional length.

Seojun couldn’t remember the last time he did pushups—maybe for school or something, as pushups never was a part of his workout routine—but the added feeling of Boa’s slick, tight walls gliding along the sensitive nerves of his recently elongated cock along with the slight burn he was starting to feel in his arms and chest wasn’t entirely unwelcome. In fact, Boa’s presence—her encouragement through the chorus of moans she was singing and the excellent body she was offering to him on a silver platter—made the experience of doing pushups for the first time in years all the better.

Every single dip downwards caused Boa’s body to shudder, the creampie still sitting inside her pussy being pushed out of her hole slightly with every full insertion. The mixed fluids started to trickle out of their connection, down her back and onto the floor, but Boa paid it no mind; her mind was filled with Seojun as much as her pussy was his dick.

“Forty-three.”

“Mmm, your cock feels so good, Seojun.”

As opposed to before, Seojun’s movements were significantly slowed down due to the mechanical limitations of his arms. The slower, more sensual sex was less stimulating, but no less enjoyable, and definitely gave Seojun more time to appreciate Boa’s body, from her supple breasts to her tight abs to her even tighter pussy. “Are you sure you can last? Forty-fo—”

Seojun was interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening. “Ah, so this is where you are, Boa.”

Seojun had no doubts that the voice was Taeyeon’s, but why was she addressing Boa as ‘sunbaenim’?

“I see you still have yet to lose your youth, doing stuff like this to us still.”

Seojun looked down to Boa, who had a sheepish grin on her face. Was she not a human being after all?

“You and Sunny both—you know all you have to do is ask, and I’ll let you have Seojun. You don’t need to sneak around like this.”

“But it’s more fun this way!”

As Boa said that, horns sprouted from her head, a sleek, midnight-black tail whipping out and around Seojun’s lower torso.

“Boa … so you were a succubus this entire time?”

She offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I thought I would try to give you a taste of what sex with a human female was like, although it was more difficult than I imagined to keep myself in check. You do smell absolutely delicious, and your semen is even better than it smells.”

“Right?”

Again, there was something about the prideful way Taeyeon huffed out her chest in response to Boa’s comment that made Seojun feel great. Going from a more or less a nobody in his previous life to immensely desired in his current life was a boost to his ego he never thought he would experience, but was eternally thankful he did.

“The second we leave home, you bring a girl home to fuck? You horny dog~”

“Taeyeon, Tiffany, I thought you were out on business?”

“We were, on business to meet with the mischievous demoness you’re inside right now.”

In hindsight, why wasn’t the fact that her pussy was so tight not a sufficient hint to be able to deduce Boa’s status as a succubus? But, in his defense, she played it off extremely naturally—she had no reaction to his ‘scent’, no over-the-top reaction to his cock like most succubae had, and similarly didn’t react particularly strongly to his semen. Why was that? Was it her Trait? Or, maybe, she was more experienced than Taeyeon and Tiffany? But was that possible?

“Kwon Bo-ah here is one of the first succubae ever.”

Hearing that, Seojun looked back down at Boa in shock, only to be met with a playful grin. “Nice to meet you, Taeyeon’s new Servant!”

“She’s also the reason why the succubus community can come out of hiding—her Trait has to do with memory, and she’s gotten powerful enough to be able to affect the entire world with it.”

Admittedly, that was one of the things that Seojun thought about once; if Taeyeon was known by so many people, wouldn’t it become problematic if, decades down the line, the people she was doing business with were aging and retiring while Taeyeon was still at 100% capacity, looking no older than the day they met her? Wouldn’t people get suspicious?

So, Boa was the answer, huh … but to be able to affect an entire world’s population? From what Seojun understood, Taeyeon didn’t even have the ability to use her Trait on anyone she wasn’t directly touching, the only exception being Seojun since he was her Servant … just how powerful was Boa?

And he was fucking her?

“Taeyeon, don’t tell him all that! We were just starting to have fun!”

“Well, at least let us join then!”

Boa sat upright, Seojun’s dick still firmly lodged inside her, turning around to face his two mistresses. “You know you don’t need my permission to join. He is your Servant too, right Tiffany?”

He’s had threesomes with Taeyeon and Tiffany, and even that was a bit much for him. But now, with Boa added to the mix? This was definitely going to test him, that was for sure.

Next chapter here.

#taeyeon #kim taeyeon #snsd #soshi #smut #kpop smut #girls generation #succubae #The Pet of Kim Taeyeon #kwon boa

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