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randomdragonfires · 5 months ago

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Kalopsia | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

Kalopsia (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

SUMMARY | She associates the words with brighter days and happier memories that she’ll never get back. And yet, when he utters them into her ear, they've never sounded more tainted and wrong - but she'll tell herself they aren’t, until the lies become truth.

PAIRING | Daemon Targaryen x Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; smut; DD:DNE; penetrative sex; dubious consent; exhibitionism; forced prostitution; canon typical sexism; infidelity; angst; ambiguous and unclear motives for sex - both Daemon and reader are fucked up people in this story, and there is much about their mental conflict that may be quick to trigger someone. Please read with caution.

WORD COUNT | 8.8k

A/N | This is a dark fic with heavily triggering themes. Please don't hate anon me. Thanks. :)

SHE REMEMBERED THE DAY SHE MET HIM.

It was a hot summer’s day when the sun had burnt her through her dress, leaving her sweating and reaching for a drink of water every few moments. He was a vision - flying through the skies of Pentos on the Blood Wyrm, with his beautiful wife, the lady Laena Velaryon right behind him as she rode the historic wonder, Vhagar. They were a wandering couple, and talk about them had been rife in the Free Cities - dragon sightings were feared, what with the Rogue Prince’s reckless nature making people assume that he’d bathe them in dragonfire for his personal amusement.

She remembered seeing them fly out of Pentos the first time, to tour the other Free Cities. This was almost a year ago. By the time they’d come back to reside with the Prince of Pentos, the lady Laena had suspected that she was with child. Based on what she saw of the royal couple, Prince Daemon, in his own way, was appreciative of his wife.

But being appreciative of his wife certainly did not mean that Daemon Targaryen was in any way blind to everything else around him. It was this fact that had led his eyes to her.

A striking purple, and they had met her melancholic, unmemorable ones from where he stood as the Prince of Pentos barked orders and asked her to see to Lady Velaryon’s every need. His gaze held a very peculiar combination of condescension and amusement for those around him, and she was pulled to him, in the same way that fishes were to the sea. Her world seemed to melt as she looked at him in all his Valyrian beauty - it stunned her.

He took one leisurely glance at her - beginning his perusal of her, neck to navel. His eyes rested for a moment longer between her legs, and she’d never forget the way her thighs quickly met under her skirts in a desperate attempt to keep herself contained.

It had been a long while since she felt anything but the fleeting sense of sadness that had taken over every part of her since she had lost it all and ended up in this city. And now, as Daemon Targaryen lingered - nay, took over her line of sight, she felt something more, more, more.

She did not know what to think about the slow storm brewing in her mind, so she chose to disregard it for a time. This was royalty, and this entire matter was well and truly beyond her weight. She should not bother with the likes of those who were higher and mightier - those that would never choose her and harm her with no regard.

But the intense wildfire-like heat that passed through her body was hard to ignore, especially given the potent lack of it in the last many years. It scared and excited her in equal measure, and regardless of the possibility of danger, she could not help but be drawn to him. She felt like an ungrateful, wanton whore for lusting after another woman’s husband - a very good woman, she would soon find - but how could she reject the man who had woken her passions once more, after she thought they were long lost to her? All with just a single look, no less?

It was often said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men. With their dragons, intoxicating eyes and intense gazes, she was inclined to agree.

It was why she brought him his bathwater and helped him with his bath every morning after his dragon ride; why she scrubbed at his scarred skin with the washcloth even though he was in no need of assistance. She cleaned his chambers, and continued to do so even after he’d stepped in and burned her with his stare. Of course it burned, he was the blood of the dragon after all.

She found herself bringing his heated bathwater despite the flight of stairs that she had to brave while carrying the weight. She helped him in and out of his clothes everyday, listening to his commands like a mindless soldier who only did what she was told. She always looked for him, even in a chamber of more than a hundred people - her young girl’s gaze, flitting about - trying to find his spun-silver hair.

Whenever she caught his gaze, he was already looking.

She supposed she'd never get tired of the heat pooling in her belly whenever she was in his presence - or how her hands found their way inside her already dampened smallclothes whenever she pictured him with shut eyes at night time.

Perhaps that’s why she felt like it was a long time coming when he creeped up behind her, hand holding her in place as it snaked around her waist. His palm flattened against her stomach and the other held her neck, squeezing just enough to make the heat rush to her cheek and between her legs. He brought his nose down to the side of her neck, laughing darkly as they breathed each other in, and she let a small whimper escape her lips.

“What took you,” she breathed out before adding, “…so long?” He responded to her meek attempt at a question with a sharp bite to her neck and a growl, effectively silencing her voice and awakening the fire in her once more.

“Don’t be too loud, you’re going to wake my wife,” he whispered before turning her around to meet her eyes.

Those words should have woken her up and brought her to reality. She should have awoken from her wistfulness and tossed her fantasies where they’d bother her no more. This was a married man, a married prince.

This was wrong, wrong, wrong.

But the blood rushing through her veins, the excitement of being coveted and central to a man’s gaze - it excited her in ways that she had never been before. The allure of him was hard to ignore, and by the looks of how eagerly his hands were slipping under her haphazardly hiked up skirts, he felt the same way too.

She’d missed this feeling - this feeling of being alive and full of life. The prospect of excitement and a renewed zest for life, after all she had been through, had only pushed her towards him a lot more.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She was blind to the dangers of the man, and she'd never been happier to remain ignorant. She did not want to want him, and she hated that she did. She did not say yes to his command, or emphatically agree. She simply took his lips in hers and sunk her fingers into his hair, reveling in the feel of his rough hands holding her backside in a tight grip.

She may not love him, and she did not like him. But she wanted this, she needed this. She needed to feel something, anything at all. She supposed that there’s something that he wants too - though she does not know what.

She soon found that there was very little in their burgeoning arrangement that would favor her fantasies, and that Daemon Targaryen simply did not care - for anyone.

“WILL YOU BE NEEDING ANYTHING ELSE, MY LADY?”

Laena Velaryon is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women she’s ever laid her eyes on. She is also one of kindest souls she’s ever had the courtesy of encountering - which is why her guilt eats at her tenfold whenever Daemon seeks out her company.

She wants to say no. She wants to say no each time.

Initially, it was an infatuation that was within her control - but the day she had indulged and let her body overshadow her mind, it had become a bit much. Initially, he had sensed her hesitation despite her being welcoming. He’d plied at her with sweet words, each syrupy sweet and meant to break through her doubt.

She melts each time, her weak will giving in like water slipping through her fingers.

Conflict is a funny thing. Each time his hands pin her wrists above her head as he takes her for all that she is, or when he’d let a finger slip through her smallclothes and glide through her folds, she wants to say no. She wants to be the good girl that her mother believed she was, but the pleasure was too much. The high that he takes her on each time is too much to ignore, too good to pass up on.

She wants to say no. The words wait at her throat, but refuse to tumble out of her lips.

It is wrong, but she wants to feel pleasure. She wants to be reminded that she is a woman worthy of pleasure, and she feels good- no matter how guilt-ridden - each time his cock sinks into her. No other man has wanted and loved her like this before, and despite the horridness of it all, she finds that she cannot say no - no matter how hard she tries.

However, she doesn't know what he wants. Daemon Targaryen wears his intrigue as well as he does his arrogance and condescension. She never knows what he wants - but she also worries that she may not like what she finds.

She will find out soon.

“That will be all, my sweet,” Laena says. The exhausted smile she wears as she cradles her hugely pregnant belly makes her want to throw herself at her feet and cry for mercy - but she is too in deep. How could she tell Daemon she didn’t want to share his bed anymore? How could she, when his power and famed temper may just harm her?

I’m sorry your husband fucks me each night. I’m sorry I like it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

What right does she have, after allowing it all these times? What right does she have, after enjoying it each time? She doesn't love him, but in those moments, she loves what she feels. The regret that follows is gut-wrenching, but she chooses to indulge each time. It was a blind and burning desire, and it is this very same wave of emotion that compels her to follow his instructions, blind and eager to please.

A servant walks into the room and looks towards the window, eyes flitting about and nervous. “The Prince Daemon has asked to see you, lady.” Her tone is apologetic, and when Laena Velaryon stands, she feels herself crumble to a thousand pieces. When she is half-stood, the Valyrian beauty realizes it is not her that her husband wants to see tonight.

“Go. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she murmurs. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she sits back down, the weight of the impending babe taking a toll on her.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

She is ashamed of the peculiar heat pooling in her belly as she walks out, unable to meet Lady Laena’s eyes. The walk to Daemon’s chambers has her head facing the floor as some of the other servants eye her and whisper the words.

Homewrecker. Whore. Concubine.

She wonders about how she could still want him after all the irreparable damage that she’s taken in her mind. She wonders when her lack of spine would dissipate, and when she’d be able to reject him outwardly and speak her mind. She wonders when she’d be able to make up her mind and stand by her decision.

She hates that she enjoys it, she hates that she’s at the center of it all. But he brings her to her peak effortlessly and with such intensity that she forgets for a moment, for just a moment, how wrong all of this is.

She pushes the door open and gulps at the sight of a half naked Daemon Targaryen sitting at the edge of his bed, hands pumping his cock with no urgency. The languid movements and his haphazard state of undress - his linen undershirt doing little to hide the lithe muscles underneath - make her head spin. He is yet to touch her.

She watches, his presence magnetic as he pulls her attention easier than he should. His gaze then finds hers as she stands frozen near the door, his breath a mangled mix of moans and groans as his hand refuses to relent. He looks at her as he continues his movements on his cock, and her thighs slap together while she folds her hands just below her breasts, pushing them up above the neckline of her dress.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of her face as she makes her way to him, each step feeling labored and long as she positions herself between his legs. Her view of his cock is undisturbed and clear, and she hates that it is the most beautiful one that she’s ever seen. Slightly leaning to the left, the girth of it impresses her each time he pushes into her, making her feel fuller than ever before.

She continues to watch his hands move, movements as slow as ever. Her eyes are fixated upon the light silver hair that marked a path below his abdomen, and the veins that marked their way through his erect cock. The glistening white pearly drops of seed on the tip called to her, and her mouth began to water.

“Take it” - he grunts through his pleasure - “off.”

She’s been in this position long enough to know what it means.It is one thing to lust after a man from afar, and another to be fucked by him. It is neither safe, nor ideal for her to be using her mouth on a Westerosi Prince whose wife was only one door away. And yet, they’ve been giving each other company for almost a year.

She works through the laces on her front one by one, her focus on his almost black, dilated pupils. He wants her, and she wants him. It is seemingly simple, and yet it is the most complicated entanglement she has ever known.

He’s never been the most patient man to grace these halls, and it is evident as he stops the hand on his cock and stands up. He reaches for the dagger on a tray of fruit by the table, and swiftly cuts through the loops in a series of flicks. Each time the dagger cut through, the stray threads flew about and he dusted them off with the same disregard and impatience.

“You’re going to take my cock in your mouth like the good girl that you are,” he growls. Candlelight illuminates his face as his dagger makes its way through the fabric, revealing her soft skin and exposing her breasts to him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And yet, as the cool metal of his dagger grazes over her nipple ever so slightly, the fire in her burns bright. Her fear dictates that she say no and run before it can spiral into something beyond her control, but the faint waves of pleasure that cause the dampness between her thighs keeps her there - almost as though her legs are stuck in quicksand.

The dress pools at her feet and she steps out of it, his hurried hands removing her shift. And when they stand, facing each other - and she wishes this was something else.

She wishes this was a simple and innocent love affair. She wishes that this was a man she could love, one that would love her just the way she would. She wishes that there was more comfort to be gained from this than the highs of the pleasure in itself - It will never be enough for her.

She reaches forward and kisses him flush on the lips, devouring his as she slips her tongue in. He bites into her lip and she tastes the copper of the blood bubbling through; he grabs her by the hair and pulls her up to meet his eye. “I said -”

“Please. Please, just… Please. Let me have this.”

He leans back and assesses her for just a moment before swooping in and taking her lips in his, no questions asked. And when he kisses her so, she can try to convince her little girl’s heart that this - what they have - is a lot more beautiful than it is meant to be.

The kiss makes her think that this is what the heavens would feel like, should she ever manage to meet the caress of a lover who’d love like she could, like she wants. A gentle and calm hand, a kind disposition that would care. But it does not last long. He is quick to wrangle her mouth away and join her forehead to his, breathing in the scent of her as she closes her eyes and wonders how this could ever be what she wants, wrestling with the contrasting realization that she has not been loved like this, not ever.

But is this love, really? This cannot possibly be love. No. She’s known love before. It is simple, easy and comforting. Nothing about this is.

She wants it just the same.

It is this thought that occupies her mind as she gets down on her knees. The stone cold floor and the ridges grate at her knees almost immediately, moving slightly as she bobs her head back and forth. She slowly but surely adjusts to his length, choking a little and allowing the spit to pool in her mouth, dripping down to her chin by the side of her lips. If she didn’t know better, she’d have mistaken him gently wiping it off with the tip of his thumb as affection.

She grabs his thigh with one hand and massages his stones with the other, her head continuing to bob back and forth relentlessly. His hands grasp at her hair, keeping the stray strands at bay as she reminds herself to breathe through her nose. She moves almost mechanically, forgetting him and his towering figure as she wonders. What do I look like to him? On my knees and eyes pooling with tears?

It is a common saying among the common folk - A King’s child will be royalty, and a whore’s child will be a whore. She is the daughter of a whore, and she hates that the words may hold true for her too.

Mama wanted for me to be more. Dignified and happy. She should not have died and left me alone.

She remembers a time when her mother had brought a friend of hers from the whorehouse back home. Her mother was a favorite amongst the nobility, and she’d entertained both the then-Prince Viserys and Daemon.

She’d become with child soon after, and had her. The idea of either man possibly being her father is sickening to her, given the position she now finds herself in. Of course, it will not matter much to them, with their Valyrian blood and queer customs - but it makes her want to cry her eyes out and worry about the kind of sickness she must inhibit to want Daemon Targaryen as much as she does despite the knowledge, despite the wrongness of it all. Her only consolation is that she has no Valyrian features. There is no way of knowing for sure, and she chooses not to entertain these thoughts while being aided by this realization.

“Good girl. Go on,” he moans. His voice immediately brings her out of her reverie, and the words are enough to send her conflicted conscience spinning on its head.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

Her mother called her a good girl many times before she died. The connotations of the word when they tumble out of Daemon’s lips make her want to retch. He probably believes that the tears are because of her choking on him, but she knows.

Those words meant much and more to her once upon a time, but not anymore. The loss hurts her more than it should. A lost childhood, a happiness that slipped through her fingers through no fault of her own. A much happier and carefree time that is now out of her grasp.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Daemon pulls her up - a thread of spit flowing out of her lips as she adjusts to an empty mouth - and pushes her, caging her between him and the cold stone wall.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

WHENEVER SHE THOUGHT OF THE TIMES that she got called a good girl, her mother was always the first to come to mind.

The city of King's Landing - she’d spent almost her entire life there before running onto the ship to Pentos - sprawled around them like a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives. Towering structures of stone reached for the heavens, casting long shadows that danced across cobblestone streets worn smooth by time. The bustling crowd, a mosaic of colors and voices, flowed like a river through the labyrinthine alleys. The scent of roasted meats, exotic spices, and the ever-present stench of refuse mingled in the air, creating a symphony of odors that was, somehow, comforting in its familiarity.

Her mother worked at a whorehouse nestled amidst the chaotic and filthy heart of the Street of Silk. It was a place where laughter and merriment battled with sorrow and desperation, where secrets and pleasures were shared over wine, closed curtains and weak beds. As a child, she was vaguely aware of the nature of her mother's work, but she didn't fully grasp its complexities. What she did understand was that her mother often came home weary, her shoulders burdened by the weight of the world - or by bite marks and blooming violet bruises.

"Why would anybody bite you there, Mama?" she had asked once. Her mother had only chuckled, but she did not look happy. It always worried her. The bites always looked red, angry and painful.

It was the same bite mark and a line of violet bruises on her mother’s shoulder that she focused on today as she overheard her speak to her friend - another whore who worked at the same whorehouse. She watched as her mother exchanged quiet words with her friend, their voices a hushed whisper as they discussed their day.

“He does something magical with his mouth, Brenna. You would not believe it!” Her mother’s friend looked very happy as she giggled and recounted a story that she caught pieces and fragments of. The mother herself did not look happy, however - the little girl knew when her mother wasn’t happy. Don’t ask how, she simply did.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The evening sun painted the walls with warm hues, and as the other woman departed, her mother sank onto the edge of the bed. a far-off look in her eyes and a heavy sigh on her lips.

Without a word, she fetched a basin of water, warm and soothing, and knelt by her mother’s side. Gently, the child removed her boots and began to massage her mother’s tired feet, her small, untrained hands working diligently to ease the discomfort to the best of her ability. The older woman closed her eyes, and a soft smile graced her lips as the tension in her muscles began to melt away.

In that moment, she saw her mother as more than just a tired whore; she saw her as a woman who carried the weight of their little world on her shoulders. The love she felt for her was immense, and it swelled within the child like a river after a storm. But the bite marks and the bruises still looked painful, and they still scared her.

And so, the child’s curiosity got the better of her, and she let the question slip from her innocent lips. "Will I have to work there too when I'm grown up? At the whorehouse?"

Her mother’s eyes flickered open, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face, barely noticeable but unmistakably obvious to her daughter’s young heart. She took a deep breath and then, with a gentle smile, replied, “Perhaps you won’t have to. Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me."

"But I love you a lot, Mama," the young girl said, her voice filled with innocence and devotion.

With a tender sigh, her mother pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her as if to shield her from the harsh world beyond that she was yet to see.

If only.

"And I love you, my sweet child," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You are such a good girl. You’re my little girl."

In that moment, the girl felt a profound sense of pride in being her mother’s daughter, in the simple act of bringing comfort to her tired soul. The city of King's Landing may have been a tumultuous sea of chaos, but in that room, with her mother's arms around her, she found her anchor, her safe harbor, and a love that she hoped would guide her through any storm.

HER BACK PRESSING INTO THE STONE WALL MAKES HER SHUDDER.

The cold sensation grating against her skin and the eerie chill of the night air make her weak in the knees. Daemon Targaryen’s cock moves against her cunt like it belongs there and nowhere else - the irony of that thought while his wife waits for him in her chambers close by is not lost on her, but she cannot deny how strongly she feels that the man is made for her.

Even if he truly was not.

His lips are immediately on hers, and she devours them for all that they are worth. She enjoys being kissed - it helps her feel wanted by him.

Even if she knew he did not.

Her hands move to the hem of Daemon’s linen undershirt, pushing it up, up, up until it is carelessly thrown halfway across the chamber. She only has one moment to get a look at his naked figure before he pushes against her and cages her between his towering figure and the wall once more. The feeling of heat passing through the pair of them and the smell of sweat and sex is intoxicating to her in a way that she struggles to put into words. Her cunt is wet with arousal as she whimpers into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth.

Time stops when they kiss. She supposes it is a beautiful thing, no matter how wrong it was.

Do things have to be right for them to be beautiful anyhow?

Her breasts are flush against his chest as he takes a hold of them, pinching her nipples until they hurt and she gasps into his mouth. He does not stop, however - her pain only seems to spurn him more, and she is ashamed to find that she is aroused as well. One of her hands travels above his neck and she tightly grips onto the root of his hair, pulling until he is in just as much pain and pleasure as she is. The other moves over the scarred planes of his back, almost as though she was mapping out a route to paradise.

The feeling of his cock pushing against her wet cunt sends waves of pleasure coursing through her, the blood rushing to her head and making her feel hazy. She lets the touches take her to the Seven hells - both the man and the circumstances making that their only possible destination.

She wonders if Laena Velaryon wishes for that too.

His cock pushes into her, stretching her walls so wide that she fears he may just split her into two. She needs a moment to adjust and he is generous enough to let her have it as his lips descend onto her neck, leaving her staring blankly at the bed as she breathes heavily. She cranes her neck just a little as she lets his cock settle in her.

And then, he moves.

She often believes that she lives with an aching sense of yearning and pushes through each day finding something to leave her feeling fulfilled. It is an empty feeling really, and the only time she ever feels like she is not a living shell of a woman is when he takes her. The feeling of being filled by him is one that always takes her by surprise - but unlike the other times that she's been taken unawares, this is something she welcomes.

“Yne drējī sȳrī jiōrā, talus. Sepār otāptan, sep��r ñuhys ēdruryssy iemnȳ.” [You take me so well, niece. Just as I believed you would, just as I imagined.]

He always says these words whenever he enters her, and she never manages to retain them long enough to ask what they mean - the high of her peak always leaves her mind feeling like melted gold, taking away any chance for coherent conversation.

Is he referring to someone? Is he appreciating her? Is he saying that he loves her? Somehow, she knows it is not the latter. She won’t have to try and remember to ask tonight - she would find out soon what it is he has gotten out of this all these days.

Every thrust is punctuated by grunts and moans, with both of them hungry for more. She meets every single one of his harsh thrusts as one of her hands slips in between them both, circling and pressing onto her pearl like her entire life was dependent on the pleasure that came from it.

It made sense. The pleasure he gives her each time is what keeps her alive.

Each brush of his flush pink tip against a rough spot inside her cunt makes her eyes roll back in pleasure. He hits it with each thrust as he pounds into her, face always wearing a mask of pursuit - but of what?

What does he want from her?

Her hand on her pearl and his cock in her is swiftly building a pool of heat in her belly - no, not the blazing kind, but a warm kind. It builds, builds, builds and she flies, flies, flies until she can’t go any higher, and she lets herself go limp in his arms as her peak takes over her entire being.

“That’s it….” He grunts, pushing into her while punctuating each thrust with his words as he relentlessly pushes into her. “Good girl. Dāeremās, sȳres riñus iksā.” [Let go, you’re a good girl.]

She sees red as the pleasure washes over her, vision becoming hazy and rendering her incoherent for many a moment before she manages to bring herself back down to earth. And as the sights around her become clear again, she clings onto him and breathes while looking over his shoulder.

The world looks newer and brighter each time she comes down from the highs that he causes. And in this moment, his last words hit her like the stone wall that she stands in front of.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

How can a pair of words remind her of what she was then and is now, all at the same time? How can these words hold so much power that they’d coax her into paradise and leave her there, lost and wanting for more, more, more?

She leans back and holds herself straight, looking into his eyes for only a short moment as she gathers herself. It is a deep sea of bright violet and she drowns, drowns, drowns.

She's been drowning in him and trying to catch her breath for a long while now. She's not sure if she wants to be saved - she wants a hand, and pushes it off too.

What does that mean for her?

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

The memory forms in her mind as Daemon Targaryen moves them both and turns her around to make her see out the window - fully naked. She braces herself with two palms holding onto either sides of the window as he pulls her backside to him and spreads her wide, leaving her glistening and sensitive cunt open for him to take once more. His hand moves almost softly over her rear as he enters her once more, this time purely to chase his own release.

“Good girl.”

KING’S LANDING WAS BUSTLING WITH TRAVELERS THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, and she was now fourteen summers old.

She had blossomed into womanhood, her youth adorned with beauty and a vague innocence - yet tarnished by the harsh realities of her life. She toiled at a tavern, where raucous patrons screamed sweet syrupy words at her, attempting to lure her away with their promises.

“I’ll show you a good time, lass! C’mere!” The man at the table said, patting his thighs and indicating that he’d like for her to sit on his lap.

She had witnessed her own mother endure such advances, and now, as a grown woman, she was the object of many a man’s desire. She was both confused and intrigued, for the attention made feel disgusted yet wanted at the same time.

On one seemingly uneventful day, she counted her earnings - four copper pennies - and began to try and do the addition to determine how much more she would need to settle her mother's debt with the ominous madame of the whorehouse that her mother worked at. Her brother was meant to bring home his pay too tonight, and the sum of their combined efforts held the promise of lifting their family from the pit of debt that had ensnared them. As she left the tavern to head home, the weight of her responsibilities hung heavily upon her young shoulders.

Along her path back home, she encountered a pair of inebriated travelers, their intentions dark and menacing. They seized her arm, grip threatening to harm her fragile spirit. In the midst of her fear, a figure emerged from the shadows, a protector amidst the dangerous chaos. It was Brynden, her brother’s Riverlander friend - she has secretly admired him for years. As she held onto the stone walls of the roads for dear life, he confronted the drunken men and drove them away from her.

She could not help the slight blush on her face as he checked if she was alright. Her mother once told her that she might find a husband that would love her - is this what love is?

Her young heart believed that it was.

Once he was sure that she was alright, Brynden brought her the news that he’d wanted to tell her. Her brother, it appeared, had squandered his earnings on ale once more and now lay incapacitated on the side of the Street of Silk after finishing an afternoon at a whorehouse. Determined to shield her mother from disappointment, she rushed to her brother's side, her heart pounding with a fervent resolve.

The smell of baked treats and food soon morphed into fragrant yet strong oils, wafting from half-naked women hoping to get a man to pay for their cunts. As she looked around, she finally found the whorehouse that her brother frequented.

She found him in a pitiful state, his speech slurred and incoherent as he mumbled in his inebriated stupor. Anguish welled within her; he would not be bringing any money home this time either. But despite her frustration, she could not help but love him. He was her brother, and the bonds of blood ran deep.

Gently, she guided him through the winding streets, their journey fraught with the weight of her responsibilities and the uncertainty of their future. He babbled on, his words a testament to his gratitude and admiration for her sense of duty.

“You’re a good girl, sister,” he’d said, his voice trembling with affection. “Good girl.” She pressed a tender kiss upon his sweaty forehead, her love for her brother transcending any and all disappointments.

As the night unfolded into dawn, she herself succumbed to the embrace of sleep, her brother beside her, a fragile moment of solace amidst the tumult of their lives. When she awoke, he was gone, vanished into the shadows of the city, never to be seen again. Her heart ached with longing, but she never harbored resentment. She waited, and in her waiting, she remained faithful to the last words her brother had spoken to her.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

In the years that followed, she missed him every day. Her mother's health deteriorated, the weight of their struggles taking a toll. But she persevered, striving to be the good girl her brother believed her to be, even in his absence.

Those two words became a guiding light, a reminder of the love they shared, of what she always hoped to be.

THE COLD AIR HITS HER SQUARE IN THE CHEST, and she is made aware of how exposed she is.

Daemon’s apartments are located at the topmost floors of the Prince of Pentos’ home. From where she stands, with her naked figure holding onto either side of the window as he takes her from behind, she has a clear view of the city at night. Logs of fire are lit and fitted onto stone walls on the roads, and the blurred fiery orange is visible to her as she looks down at the city that saved her. Any passerby close to her can crane their neck up just a little, and see her naked in all her glory, from neck to navel.

Her breasts bounce as Daemon’s cock moves in and out, shining in the moonlight that her figure now obstructs, keeping the light from entering the dimly lit chamber. She lets out a strangled moan as he bullies her spot with each thrust, grunting and moaning in a mix of pleasure and exertion. The sweaty sheen on her forehead dries in the chill of the night air, and her line of sight is unstable with the way her head moves with the rest of her body.

“You like this, don’t you? For the entire world to see you spread out and wanting like this…” he says, with his lips nibbling on her ear enough to make her scream. “For them to know that you are mine. Fuck, fu-uuck!”

Mine, mine, mine.

Is it such a bad thing to be? In this moment, as she rolls her eyes back at wave after wave of pleasure and the rapid heat blooming in her belly once more, she supposes it is. She will hate herself for wanting this when they are done for the night - but she’ll cross that bridge when it comes.

Or burn it.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she loses herself. The shame of being put on display for every common man and woman to see is non-existent, but her heart drops at how she hates that she likes it.

A whore’s daughter is a whore too. How quickly had she given in, after all that she had done to escape a fate that wasn’t her doing?

With one particular thrust, she pushes forward a bit more than expected. She worries that she’s going to fall, fall, fall - the drop would be deathly steep and long.

She imagines what the fall would be like if her grip wasn’t tight. Her naked form falling down with her hands unable to find any purchase, flailing about as she is suspended in the air. She’d probably see all the bricks and windows in close view - perhaps, someone leaning against another window may scream as they notice her falling to what she hopes would be death, naked as her name day.

Would she be able to live it through if she miraculously and unfortunately survived that fall?

Almost as though he sensed her fear of slipping, Daemon’s hands move away from the loose grip they have on her waist. One hand snakes around her breasts and his forearm presses into her pebbled peaks, while the other cups her cunt and covers it from the cold completely. A fresh wave of arousal takes over her as he groans at the wetness that now coats his palm. The sudden warmth of his hand has her whining and moaning for more, and she moves, riding against his palm, wanting for more, more, more. It would seem that they are both insatiable tonight.

Daemon picks up the pace, his movements speeding up as she senses his desperation for release. She feels his cock hit her all the way up to her lower belly as the coil builds once more, giving her the excitement as she anticipates the sweet pleasure of release once more. She almost gives in right then, knees buckling and legs almost melting as she feels herself fly high, higher and higher still once more. Her peak washes over her in an instant as he pushes deep, her cunt only protected from the stone wall below the window by his palm.

It is a particularly long wave of pleasure that takes over her, making the hairs on her body stand upright as she struggles to stand on her own. Fire courses through her veins and her face is flushed as she finally smiles, drinking in the intense pleasure as Daemon’s thrusts get slower and slower until he spills in her too - a mix of grunts and moans as he falls apart.

The heady mix of sweat, slick and seed dripping down her thighs is enough to make her hazy and feel light in the head. Her head seems as though it is filled with cotton as her thighs quiver, making her experience relief like never before and she wants to turn and kiss him, hope to let the delusion that he loves her fester in her head a bit more and give herself the luxury of feeling genuinely loved for just a while as he-

“Good girl, Rhaenyra.”

His hands have moved away and he quickly pulls out of her, making her move forward. The stone wall hits the dark mound covering her cunt as she winces at the sudden emptiness - from both between her legs and her heart.

She’s lost her home, her memories, her happier days and a life that she loved. She’s lost enough and more for a lifetime. Daemon was never hers to be considered a loss, and she knows it too. And yet, as the realization that even his sex-addled, ill-meant compliments weren’t hers to own washes over her, she finds a lone tear slipping from her eye.

The salty taste on her lips feels like home.

Good girl, he’d said. To whom was he saying it, really?

TWO YEARS HAD PASSED SINCE HER BROTHER WALKED AWAY FROM THEIR LIVES, leaving an empty space that seemed impossible to fill. She was now a fully grown woman who was struggling to make ends meet in the bustling streets of King's Landing. Life had grown harsher with each passing day, and now, a shadow of illness loomed over their humble home.

Her mother had fallen ill, a fever that refused to break. She was too sick to continue working at the whorehouse, so they lived on scraps while the young girl’s earnings went toward settling their debts. She couldn't afford the services of a maester for her mother in the capital city, and the local healer's herbs offered little solace. Still, she continued to scrape together every copper she could find, pouring her earnings into the apothecary's pouch in a desperate attempt to buy her mother some time and relief.

Debt was a relentless specter in their lives. The madame of the local whorehouse hounded them incessantly, demanding the repayment of their debts. Her once cozy home felt increasingly suffocating, its walls closing in around them as they fought to survive.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, she returned home to a sight that sent a chill down her spine. Her mother appeared more sickly than usual, her brow damp with fevered sweat. She rushed to her mother’s side, her heart pounding with fear. She pressed her palm to her mother's forehead and felt the searing heat.

In her delirious state, her mother noticed her efforts to help and laughed softly, her voice a mere whisper. "Thank you my love, you’re a good girl," she murmured weakly, her eyes glazed with fever. The girl's heart ached, and she did what little she could to ease her mother's suffering. She prepared a hot bowl of soup and fed it to her mother, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the warm liquid spill from her mother's lips.

Good girl. The last words her mother had said to her.

The night passed in anxious vigil, but by morning, her mother was gone. She had wept bitterly, her tears soaking the tattered bed linens that held the memory of happier times.

Days later, the madame of the whorehouse came knocking, a cruel glint in her eyes. She had no sympathy for the loss, only an insistence that the debt must be paid. With ruthless determination, she thrust the girl into her mother's role, forcing her to walk a path that her mother had promised she’d never have to.

“Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me,” her mother had said once. The words had no power or weight as she braced herself to welcome the lustful drunks of King’s Landing with a closed heart and open legs.

Distressed and terrified, the girl found herself in a living nightmare. The once-bustling brothel became her prison, and her innocence was sacrificed to repay a debt she had not incurred. As the first man walked through the doors that fateful night, she realized that her life had taken a dark and irreversible turn, and there was no escape from the cruelty of King's Landing's unforgiving streets.

She remembered looking at the ceiling as she whimpered, the pain of being taken for the first time making her well up in earnest. The bed made a series of creaking sounds as she let him have his way with her, and the gold coin that he’d flicked at her abdomen afterward shined like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Gold?” she whimpered, unable to recognize the shiny metal. She looked at the coin in awe, and the man laughed cruelly.

“Maiden whores are worth more than the usual,” he said.

In all her years living in the stink of the city, she’d never felt dirty - but she did now.

With each night, she caged her heart and saved up the money. On some days, it’d be a penny and on some others, it’d be a silver stag. Every coin saved would buy her escape and freedom. And one night, she finally ran.

Five silver stags for a journey aboard the first ship she could find. To Pentos.

Her job as a chambermaid at the Prince of Pentos’s home came to her as a kitchen maid took pity and took her in. For months, she’d safely worked and made more money. They provided her with a little chamber that she shared with the other maids, and food so her belly would never feel empty. She’d escaped the brothel and she wanted to believe that she’d made her mother proud. She didn’t know if she was happy, but she was her own person again - it had to count for something, regardless of how empty she felt.

Three months later, a silver-haired Rogue Prince made his descent on the palace grounds, atop the most terrifying dragon she’d ever seen - awakening what was dead in her once more.

DESPITE HOW ROUGHLY HE’D HANDLED HER JUST MOMENTS BEFORE, she felt as though she’d been doused with cold water.

Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra.

She’d believed that she was a blot of shame on Laena Velaryon’s marriage, but it would seem that a silver-haired princess - the Realm’s Delight, his niece - was doing far worse in her absence.

Had he been taking her from behind, hoping against hope that if he closed his eyes and thrusted enough, he’d be able to picture her?

She turns around, the thrill of being put on display while in the throes of pleasure wearing off of her. She walks over to the table near the fireplace with unsteady steps, and slips on the robe that he’d discarded - possibly before she’d stepped in. The wine pitcher invites her with open arms, offering her the comfort of ignorance and forgetfulness as she tries to wrap her head around finally finding out what he’s wanted all this time.

She wanted to be able to feel something, and he wanted to feel her. Neither of them wanted each other, and she supposes that the field is now even. Somehow, she feels a bit more powerful with the knowledge that she wasn’t just someone that he took mindlessly, but was someone who helped him satisfy what she now clearly sees as his guilty desires.

She must have known. Rumors of whores being asked to call him uncle as he fucked them dizzy have floated about before - she thought they were lies, but now she’s seen firsthand how true they are.

He was married to a woman whom he probably wishes was someone else. He was straying from his marriage vows with another woman, not even the one who he wished for. She wonders if Rhaenyra Targaryen knows how deeply she is wanted and loved.

She wonders if she will ever be loved the same way. A whore's daughter will also be a whore. Is she a whore now? Has she become what she tried to escape? And worse - does she genuinely enjoy it?

They accompany each other in silence, the only noise being the cacophony of thoughts in their own heads. He slips into his soft trousers and sits on the edge of the bed as she passes him a goblet of wine. She sits opposite him whilst nursing her own goblet, simmering in her thoughts as she muses about her life’s journey - from a mere happy tavern wench to a prince’s solemn bed warmer.

There is a knock on the door that brings both of them out of their reverie. The servant slips in when Daemon mutters his permission and she takes in the sight of them both before looking to the floor and murmuring words that are inaudible.

“Speak up, girl,” he says. As the servant maid breathes in, she has a startling realization. His Valyrian words, the ones that she did not recognize or understand - were they for Rhaenyra too? She does not plan on asking. She supposes she’ll never know.

“Lady Laena has begun her labors, Prince Daemon.”

The servant scurries out, leaving the door half open as Daemon throws his head into his hands. She sets the goblet aside and stands in front of him, taking his head in her arms and letting it rest on her robe-clad abdomen. Her hands run over his hair in a soothing motion, almost in a lover’s embrace. Almost.

In this moment, she can tell herself that what they have is more than just sin and adultery. In this moment, she’ll tell herself that what they have is not dirty, but beautiful.

“Go. She needs you,” she murmurs, the words once again reminding her of the precarious position she finds herself in. He walks away after dressing himself, and in the wee hours of the morning, the Prince and his wife welcome twin daughters - Baela and Rhaena.

Only four days later, she finds herself being summoned to his private apartments once more. She is now about to fuck a man who had not one, not two, but three girls in his life that he would disregard when he takes her - all in delusional pursuit of a woman who is half a world away. She hates what she is about to do, and she hates that she is already wet and wanting.

She wants him. Despite it all, she wants him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her mother and brother called her a good girl, once upon a time. Would they say the same about her now?

Somehow, she knows that the answer is not something she'd want to hear.

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storiesofsvu · 5 months ago

Text

Confidence Boost

Derek Morgan x reader warnings: language, some body insecurities, smut, squirting A couple of different req's combined into one. I'll admit it sat in the wip pile for a little too long, but let's hope that doesn't happen anymore!

Derek was fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist when he entered the bedroom, finding you in front of the mirror with a frown on your face. You were fiddling with your shirt, tucking it in then untucking it, pulling it tight, pinching at it to fall loose, pulling it over to only one side all while you turned in various degrees to see all the angles of your body. You let out a huff, hands dropping to your sides as your head tilted and you pulled up your shirt, pinching at your sides and stomach, pulling at your skin.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head baby?” He asked, crossing the room and you let out a huff, finally pulling your gaze away from the mirror.

“Are these jeans too small?” You asked, frown still on your lips as you turned back to the mirror, continuing to pinch at your skin.

“Do I have to fight somebody?” Derek asked, only half kidding as his arm wrapped around your waist from behind and he pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Did you see that pic Elise posted on insta from lunch?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, kissing at your neck again.

“My mother so kindly, and very publicly commented on it that it was looking like I should be laying off the fries and cocktails.”

“Bullshit.” He huffed in annoyance.

“Just made me think maybe she’s right.” You face dropped as your eyes returned to the mirror and you continued picking at your skin and adjusting your shirt. “We went shopping after and nothing I tried on fit properly in my regular size, maybe I need to do a cleanse….” You trailed off as your head tilted, gazing at your body in the mirror.

“Baby, I wish you could see the way I see you.”

“What’d you mean?” You asked, your head twisting to see his face and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before turning your face back toward the mirror.

“Well for starters, these jeans are your tightest pair.” His thumbs slipped into the waistband, tugging gently at it to prove the point as they barely moved from your body, “and I know that because they’re the ones that show off this gorgeous fuckin’ ass.” His hands moved around and squeezed at your ass, spanking you gently and he was happy to hear the little squeal you let out was followed with a laugh. His hands ghosted around your waist, taking your hands in his so you would stop scrutinizing yourself, “they’re so tight it doesn’t matter how tiny someone is once you’re sitting down they’re gonna push in on your stomach.” His hand brushed over your tummy, “and you’d just finished a big, fueling, nutritious lunch with carbonated drinks, a little bloat is natural.” He kissed the side of your neck again, “you are perfectly fucking stunning just the way you are. I think you’re the sexiest,” another kiss, “most beautiful,” another kiss, “stunning woman I have ever seen.” This time he nipped at your sensitive skin and your head fall back against his shoulder as you let out a little sigh.

“Derek…”

“Baby, you and this gorgeous body drive me absolutely wild.” He rolled his hips against your ass and you could already feel his cock starting to get hard, “and I will absolutely show you how much I love it and you.”

“Please…” You murmured and he chuckled, spinning you in his arms so he could kiss you properly. He caught your chin in his hand, directing your lips to his and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss.

Every time Derek kissed you he put every ounce of pleasure and love into it, lips molding to yours, moving with grace in the dance you’d perfected over the years. Your arms wrapped around him, fingernails tickling at the back of his neck and the arm he had around your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him. His tongue slid across the seam of your lips and you gladly parted them, letting him slide into your mouth. He began to back you towards the bed, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss to tug it over your head. Returning to the kiss he started work on the offending jeans, shoving them down your legs along with your underwear and you did your best to kick them the rest of the way off while he got rid of your bra.

“Lie back princess.” He nudged you toward the bed and you were quick to drop down onto it, shuffling backwards until you were nestled against the pillows. “God just look at you…” He purred, hands ghosting up your legs as he climbed onto the bed.

You let out a little giggle, your cheeks heating as your arms crossed over your body, turning your face away from him and into the pillows. “Derek…”

“Oh c’mon baby girl, none of that.” His hand softly gripped your chin, turning your gaze back to his, “there’s no reason for you to play shy.”

Derek ducked down, kissing you gently while his hands moved your arms, guiding them to loop around his shoulders while he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth. You couldn’t help but relax into the bed, your whole body melting at the feeling of his embrace as his tongue rolled against yours. One of his hands crept up your side, fingers tickling your skin, drawing patterns across your body as he went, teasingly slow. He traced the shapes and curves of your body, somehow leaving a pathway of both heat and goosebumps as he went, creeping closer to your more intimate areas. His fingers brushed just under the curve of your breast and his lips curved up into a smirk at the feeling of your back arching off the bed to lean into the touch. His hand came to rest, just there, just close enough for you to know it was coming but not bothering to move it any further quite yet.

You couldn’t help it, letting out a small whine into the kiss as you felt the need beginning to build up within you, tingles shooting through your body from where Derek was touching you all the way down into your pussy, gently fluttering around nothing. His lips pressed into the corner of yours, trailing a hot and sticky path across your jawline before he nipped your earlobe, his breath hot on your skin.

“Just relax for me baby, I’ll make you feel good, promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss right behind your ear and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips made their way down the column of your neck.

Derek’s nose nudged at your chin, turning your face away from him so he had better access to your sensitive skin, teeth gently scraping your neck before he sucked at the same spot, tongue laving across it. He let out a soft groan against your neck, his body nearly grinding down onto yours as he bit into your pulse point and you moaned, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck. While his mouth made a home in the crook of your neck, determined to leave you with a few marks his hand finally slid upwards, groping at your chest.

“Oh god…” You moaned, your body arching into the touch and you could feel Derek chuckle against your skin.

“You like that baby?” He asked, fingers pinching at your nipple, earning a small gasp from you as the tingles shot through your body once more.

While his mouth latched onto your neck he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pressing harder around it at random intervals until you were whining underneath him. He shifted slightly so he could mimic the movements on the other side, barely pulling himself away from your neck so he could see the way your nipples had hardened from his teasing.

“My princess does like that.” He teased with a grin and you were about to retort with something smart but his mouth was on your skin again, tongue licking its way across your collarbone and your head fell back into the pillows with a soft sigh leaving your lips.

Every touch from Derek was electrifying your senses, you felt him on your body, tongue, lips, teeth, hands, the weight of his frame on top of you as he left a path of kisses on the center of your chest. Fire prickled under your skin with each touch, tingling through you, lighting up your senses and sending pleasure shooting through you, building deep in your stomach with each pass of his mouth. One hand wrapped around one of your tits, groping it, thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple while his mouth found your other one. He bit at the top curve of your chest, tongue lapping out to sooth the burn before his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck…” You let out a gasp, feeling the tingles picking up and you couldn’t help but rub your legs together in search for some relief, your pussy beginning to ache between them.

Derek’s tongue flicked at your nipple while his finger did the same on the other one, teasing and toying with you, teeth scraping against your tender flesh while you began to writhe on the bed underneath him. He pulled your nipple away from your body, letting it go with a lewd pop, watching the way your mouth fell open and you let out a breathy sigh at the feeling. It only took a moment for him to swap sides, repeating the motions, his cock twitching between his legs at the sounds coming from your lips.

“That’s it baby…” he husked against your skin, “relax… I don’t want you thinkin’ about anything aside from how good this feels.”

“Mmm…” you whined in response, your breath catching in your throat as his teeth sunk into your skin again.

His hands ghosted over your stomach, fingers trailing across your skin with a featherlight touch while his mouth stayed on your chest. He shifted between your legs, hands rubbing at your inner thighs as he spread them wider for himself, now able to fully settle between them, the towel around his waist falling to the side. His hands wrapped around your thighs, massaging gently, thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to help you relax into the bed, spreading your legs wider for him while his mouth continued to toy with your chest. Derek slid one of his hands between your legs, cupping at your heat, lips curving upwards at the quiet gasp that escaped your lips. His palm massaged your pussy slowly, gently, just enough to have your hips softly rocking into the touch while breathy moans came from your mouth. His lips stayed wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth deeper as he continued to toy with you.

“Fuck Derek..” you sighed, feeling your wetness smearing across his hand each time he rubbed at you.

“Relax pretty girl.” He murmured.

Two of his fingers slid through your lower lips a few times, the tips of them barely dipping into your heat, collecting your juices before coming up to rub your clit and your breath caught in your throat. Your hips jumped up off the bed and he chuckled against your skin pressing harder on the nub before his hand returned to your entrance. One finger slid in easily, twirling inside you while the heel of his hand brushed against your clit,

“Already so wet, baby.” He grinned, nipping at your chest and you let out a small whine.

“More, please.”

“Anything my girl wants.”

A second finger slid in to join the first and you let out a soft moan at the feeling, gently stretching your soaked walls out. Derek hummed against your chest, his fingers pumping faster in and out of your cunt, beginning to scissor randomly. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from your chest, sitting up between your legs and each time his fingers came out of your pussy they were slick with even more of your juices. Your sporadic moans were replaced with breathy whimpers, your hands clawing at the bedsheets as your body arched off the bed, pleasure shooting through you, you could feel it building deeper and tighter in your stomach, fire crackling under your skin.

Derek sunk his fingers as deep as he could into your pussy, letting out a soft groan as he did, feeling the way you were already pulsing around him.

“That’s it baby, wanna feel you squeezin’ me tight.”

He placed his free hand down right above your clit, thumb angled so he could play with the swollen nub as he continued to finger you. Feeling you flutter around his fingers again he thrusted back into you before curling his fingers, quickly finding the sensitive spot inside you and the hand on your lower stomach pressed down gently, thumb flicking at your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned, your back arching off the bed, pleasure about to burst within you and all you could hear were the squelching noises coming from your cunt as Derek’s fingers picked up speed again.

“Relax pretty girl.” He purred, “just let go… trust me.”

Derek’s thumb increased pressure and pace, rubbing at your clit with more intent, watching with pride at the way your hips continued to buck up off the bed, griding against his hands harder with each thrust of his fingers. Your juices had drenched his hand, slicking down his wrist and dripping down your cunt making a complete mess of things and you didn’t have a care in the world, his touch electrifying your senses as you felt it twisting tighter and tighter inside you, the spark about to burst into a full flame.

“Oh fuuu-ck… fuck!”

Your thighs began to shake, threatening to close if Derek hadn’t been sat between them and he pressed down harder on your stomach, thumb rubbing faster at your clit while the fingers inside dragged across your g-spot. Your hips shot off the bed as you let out a cry, the damn bursting, the prickling under your skin exploding into pleasure you felt through your entire body. Your pussy clamped down around Derek’s fingers, juices spurting out, a second smaller wave coming when he pressed against your g-spot again and you swore.

“Fuck..” your body shook against the bed, “oh my god…. Oh my god…”

“Fuck that was hot as hell.” Derek murmured, finally pulling his drenched fingers from you, watching your cunt squeeze around nothing as you began to catch your breath. “Feel better princess?” He asked, barely giving you time to nod before he ducked his mouth down to your pussy, tongue lapping out to clean up your juices. He sucked and kissed at your thighs, avoiding the still sensitive spots until you’d finally stopped trembling and his tongue surged through your folds, letting out a groan at your taste, barely flicking against your clit before he crawled back up the bed.

“Christ…” You muttered and he laughed softly, “I’ve never done that before.”

“First time for everything.” He replied, leaning over you to kiss you and you let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cock twitching against your thigh.

“Need you…” you murmured, feeling his lips curve up into a grin as he wrapped a sturdy arm around your waist and rolled onto his back.

“How about you ride me? I wanna see this gorgeous body.”

A small smile on your face you pushed up to sitting, straddling his hips as you rubbed your pussy over his cock a few times, grinding down onto him, smearing your wetness and his head fell back into the pillows as he let out a low hiss. Your hand reached between your bodies, wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance while Derek’s hands found your waist to help brace you as you sunk down onto him. A mutual moan and quiet swear echoed through the room as he filled you, now fully stretching you out.

“Fuck, pussy feels so fucking good.” He moaned, his ever so slightly rocking up into yours and you let out a small squeak, pussy fluttering around him.

Bracing your hands on his stomach you pushed up until just the head was left inside your pussy and then sunk down all the way, setting a steady pace as you began to ride him. Still sensitive, your pussy was already pulsing, squeezing his cock in the perfect way, you could feel him throbbing inside you, the head rubbing against your g-spot with each rock of your hips. You began to let out small whines, your eyes fluttering nearly shut as the pleasure began to build up again. Derek’s hands squeezed around your waist,

“God look at you…” he groaned, “so pretty riding my dick. Always take me so well baby, you’re doing so good for me.” His eyes raked over your body, watching the way your tits were bouncing, how your lower lip was pulled in between your teeth and you brow was furrowed. He felt himself twitch inside you, resulting in your pussy clamping down around his cock and he let out a loud groan. “Play with those gorgeous tits…”

He squeezed at your hips again, making sure he had a hold on you to guide you riding him and your hands started to slide up your body. You cupped your chest, groping at the tender flesh as you let out a soft moan before pinching at your nipples and a small gasp left your lips.

“Fuck…”

“That’s it baby.” He grunted, “so fucking hot.” He drove his cock deeper into you and you let out a louder whine. “Gonna need you to come for me again princess, squirt all over my cock.”

He knew he was too close to last much longer and judging by the way you were clenching down around him and the wetness where your bodies were joined, you weren’t far off either. You let out a needy whine, your head nodding as you continued to toy with your tits. One of Derek’s hands left your waist, fingers quickly rubbing your clit again and you felt the similar sensation beginning to build.

“Oh god don’t stop!” You moaned, thighs beginning to quake, “fuck, Derek, s-so good!”

“Yeah?” He groaned, pressing harder against the pulsing nub, “you like that?”

“Mm-mm hmm.” You whined, “gonna make me come.”

“Then come for me baby.”

With a final press of his fingers, he rolled his hips just right and you cried out, your back arching before your entire body rocked forward, hands catching yourself on Derek’s chest as your orgasm rocked through you. Derek let out a low swear, feeling your juices drenching his cock, dribbling out around it as you did your best to continue to ride him.

“So good for me.” He husked, your body trembling in his arms, as you panted. He braced his feet on the bed, driving his cock faster and deeper into you as he chased his own release, panting into the crook of your neck before letting out a low swear and a grunt, his hips stilling against your own.

“Fuck…” you muttered, feeling his release coat your walls as you finally relaxed against him, nuzzling into his neck.

Derek’s arms squeezed gently at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you caught your breath. Once he’d stopped twitching and could control his breathing again his hands began soothingly rubbing up and down your back, finger tips tracing patterns across your skin, peppering your cheek and shoulder with kisses. You let out a satisfied hum at the feeling, turning your head to face his so you could kiss him properly.

You shifted slightly, a breath escaping your lips as his cock slipped from you and you dropped to the bed beside him. He did his best to kick up one of the blankets, wrapping it around your waists while you nestled into his side, welcoming the embrace of his arm around you. Derek softly played with your hair while you traced the outlines of his shoulder tattoo. You let out a very happy sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest and his finger curled under your chin, tilting it up to him and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Feeling better now baby?”

“Incredibly.”

“Don’t feel the need to bad talk my favourite girl anymore?” He asked and you giggled, playfully rolling your eyes as you swatted at his chest.

“No.”

“Good.” Smiling, he kissed you again, “because you are without a doubt, the love of my life. And your body is beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, sexy and I love it just as much as I love you. Woman, I would happily suffocate between your thighs.”

“Derek!” This time you laughed loudly, punching his arm.

“What? I would.”

“Way to ruin a sentimental moment.” You half scolded; half teased, rolling out of the sheets to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I had to get you moving somehow.” He joked, “if we don’t get in the shower now we’re gonna be late for dinner.”

“Jerk.” You grinned, moving toward the bathroom as he scooped up the towel discarded from earlier.

“Hey, you’re the reason I have to shower twice.”

“Uh.. pretty sure you instigated, and you would have no matter what.”

“Yeah? How am I supposed to resist that ass.” He whipped the towel in the direction of your ass and you squealed, darting for the bathroom with Derek quick on your heels, “love that ass.”

“Perv.” You retorted, turning back to him and he grabbed you around the waist, pulling you to him.

“But I love you more.” He tapped the tip of your nose before his hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you deeply.

“I love you too.”

______________

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@lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @mysticfalls01 @barbasbodaciousbeard @sia2raw @dxtery @alexusonfire @bumblebear30 @haarrrys @clarawatson @fandom-princess-forevermore @kylieramey @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @evilregal2002 @rosaliedepp @disneyfan624 @supercriminalbean @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @iluvsreid @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @ivyflowers13 @silversprings-mp3 @elz-artzzz @speedynana @hanbower @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @moonlightjxuregui @ms-downhill

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #criminal minds #confidence boost #derek morgan fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan one shot

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sunshinegirl29 · 4 months ago

Text

Someone PLEASE write a hotch shot like this because DAMN, I can't stop seeing him here.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #signal boost

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boothillssugarmomma · 6 months ago

Text

Steel Here

(Boothill x Fem!Reader)

cw-: Body dysmorphia, slight talks of hating themself, other than that fluff fluff

🎀 authorsnote: Rn I'm feeling like my body isn't great so I used this fic to sort of get it out! And it actually felt great!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

Boothill’s quietly sitting in his room that you begged him to have on The Astral Express. As his girlfriend you've been trying to get him to stay around more and he adores it.

But it also gives him more time to really think...and he doesn't know if he likes that part.

Ok...he hates it. He hates that fact that he has to see himself when he passes a mirror, he hates it when he feels his cool steel against his face, he hates how he can't feel your hugs...

Boothill stands and looks in the mirror, flexing his mechanical arms softly and glancing over his fake abs. He shakes his left metal leg and sighs.

He hears the small mechanical noise of his bedroom door and looks over to it. He smiles softly as he sees you.

“Hey sweet thang...” He shoots you a warm smirk, trying to cover up what he was doing as he quickly sits on his bed. You glance over at the mirror and back to him. Piecing it in your mind what exactly he was doing. “What do ya need hon...?”

You're silent as he asks. No response as you just blink. Your eyes communicate to him that you want him to tell you what you saw.

Your boyfriend sighs a little. Placing his head in his hands and closing his eyes.

“Don't gimme that look...” He breathes, obviously frustrated as he looks back up at you, “Fine...I'm startin' to wish I was me again...I don't want this body anymor'.”

"Oh honey..." You whisper softly as you sit next to him on the bed. You place a hand on his back but remember he won't even be able to feel it...

“See...now would ya look at that...?” Boothills voice drawls, he places a hand on your thigh and sighs as you shiver at the cold metal. “I...guess this is ma' life now..." He scoffs softly. "Can't even curse...it's all 'muddle fudger' this and 'fork that' and 'son of a nice lady'..."

"Boothill sweetheart..." You whisper as you lean against him. "Don't say that..."

Boothill hesitates on resting his temple against your head, he doesn’t need his body reminding him that part of his ridiculous body is only metal.

But he doesn’t know what else to do to comfort himself. He’s frustrated to the moon and back, frustrated at being in this body he doesn’t want.

“I don’t think you understand, darlin’” Boothill whispers. “I miss the me I once was. I just… don’t feel quite like myself anymore…”

"You're still...my Boothill..." You pull away gently and grasp his cheek.

The corner of his lips quirk upwards at your words, but the warm touch and caress of your hand on his cheek still doesn’t feel the same. He wishes of his could feel the same kind of texture he once thrived from and took for granted in his human skin...not just his face.

It’s almost...cold to him.

“You’re the only one who can remind me of the old me that’s still lyin’ somewhere underneath this piece’o’junk body.” He murmurs.

"It's not a piece'o'junk..." You imitate him with a smile. "Boothill... you're amazing just the way you are..."

There you go smiling. If there’s anything that’s capable of changing his mood for the better, it’s you.

Boothill gives you a chuckle. “Look who’s sweet talkin’ who now,” his voice is a bit more lighthearted than previously. “You’ve gotta stop bein’ like this darlin’. You’re gonna make me blush.”

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "Honey...look at me..." You take his face in your hands. "I love you..."

Boothill smiles, feeling your lips press against his cheek. His hands find their way to your wrists, gently caressing them and wishing he could feel your skin. He knows it's definitely a lot warmer than the cold of his steel.

“You’re a real charmer, y’know that?” He says, his voice low and amused. “I don’t reckon I can look anywhere else when ya say things like that.”

"Now...how can we make you feel better?" You hum softly in his ear.

“You have no idea how bad I want that...” Boothill replies with a grin. He pulls your face closer to his and whispers into your ear. “But you’ve got to keep those sweet words of yours comin’.” Boothill’s voice is low and seductive. “I’m starvin’ here, darlin’.”

"Pamper Queen tonight aren't we?" You laugh, placing your hand on his chest.

“Only for my darlin’.” He teases, placing a hand over yours and gently rubbing his thumb against your skin. Boothill’s other hand caresses your cheek. “Let’s be frank; you’ve gotten me spoiled rotten, and I ain’t mad about it.”

Your face contorts into a look of pure thought. "Here...since you give me massages sometimes..." You get up and walk over to his closet.

Boothill’s curious as his gaze follow your movements, hands resting on the arm rest. He wonders if you’re looking for something specific.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, darlin’?” He asks, tilting his head to rest his cheek on his metal palm, fingers pressed against his chin.

"How about we polish your metal?" You pull out some wax and a waxing machine.

Boothill’s expression changes into something resembling a mix of disbelief and shock, then into amusement as he bursts into laughter. He had an expectation for what you were going to do, but this wasn’t it.

“Is that a euphemism for something I’m not gettin’?" He jokes, his laughter trailing into a playful smirk as he watches you closely.

"Well...I don't know the equivalent of a massage for cyborgs!" You whine playfully.

Boothill chuckles as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “Oh, I’m certain a few people out there would call this ‘metal maintenance’ or something.”

He then rises to his feet. “And I wouldn’t mind havin’ ya give me a good ol’ metal maintenance, darlin’. But I hope you know I’m ticklish in some spots.”

"How are you ticklish..." You murmur and plug it into the wall.

Boothill chuckles again, crossing his arms as he gazes down at the metal machine in your hands. “I’m ticklish ‘round my neck and behind my knee, believe it or not. I ain’t kiddin’.”

He walks over to you and stands before you, a grin spreading on his face. “I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna use this as a weapon against me, aren’t ya?”

"Phantom tickles on the knee I guess..." You hum and fire it up. "And it's NOT a weapon..."

“Aww, shoot… and here I was, thinkin’ you’d give me a break.” He quips, shrugging his shoulder and letting out a small chuckle.

In truth, Boothill is a little excited for you to polish him. “How are you at polishin’ machines, darlin’? Cause it ain’t gonna be clean if you don’t know what you’re doin’...” He teases as he glances at the polishing machine, then back at you.

You hesitate and cough. "I'm...great?" You quickly get to work before he can question anything.

Boothill raises a brow as he eyes you with a small, amused smirk. He has a feeling you're definitely not good with these machines.

“I’m sure ya are.” He teases, a small, playful chuckle falling from his lips.

While Boothill initially stands still, he can’t help but feel a little ticklish as he can feel the machine polish the outer surface of his thigh. “Careful with that…”

You giggle softly as you keep polishing his metal body. You slide up to his neck and carefully polish it.

A soft, amused chuckle leaves Boothill as he can’t help it. Your gentle polish on his neck is a little ticklish, which causes him to tense up from the sensation. He’d definitely describe it as ticklishness. He rests a hand on the back of your head as you polish his neck, caressing the underside of his fingers against your skin.

“Oh, what a sight to see. I’ve got my pretty lady polishin’ me to perfection.” He teases.

"D-Don't distract me or I'll move!" You whine.

“Distract you?” Boothill murmurs, his lips tilting into a small smirk. “I’m just complimentin' you.”

He gently moves your chin with a finger, guiding it to meet his gaze as he gazes down at you. “And don’t move. I like the way your beautiful eyes look when you’re focused on me.” A tease disguised as a compliment.

You freeze as your heart pounds in your chest...which was not the best move because the polisher slides right off him and shoots at the wall.

A small gasp leaves Boothill when he watches the polisher slide off him. But then he bursts into a hearty chuckle, his hands resting on his waist. His eyes are closed while he laughs, and when he’s done, he glances at the wall where the polisher’s been launched into.

“That wall didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that, darlin’...“ He teases through stifled giggles.

"Y-Yeah well...you distracted me!" You whine before sitting in his lap.

Boothill pulls you onto his lap and rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms naturally wrapping around your waist. As you lean against him, he can see the machine embedded into the wall from the corner of his eye. He shakes his head and laughs again.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” He teases, nuzzling his face to the crook of your neck and trailing his lips against your skin.

"It's not like I did it on purpose..." You mutter into his hair.

Boothill lets out another chuckle, feeling the warmth of your breath against his head. “I know you didn’t.” He murmurs, letting out a low sigh that’s a mix of contentment and relief.

He gently presses his cheek to the top of your head, his fingers gently rubbing your waist. “I’m just teasin’ ya, darlin’. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. ‘Sides, look at the bright side.” He adds. “At least the machine didn’t land on my toes.”

"You don't even have toes!" You blink and roll your eyes.

Boothill’s expression turns into a grin as he laughs, pulling you closer to him. “See? Told ya you’re the feisty one.” He teases, tilting his head to kiss your temple. He places another kiss on the top of your head, savoring the feeling of your warmth against his.

“Maybe I don’t have toes.” He begins, placing another kiss on your cheek. “But this body’s got everything else ya need.”

"See that's my Boothill..." You smile warmly. "Don't think of yourself the way you were before...and if you do...let me know?" You whisper.

As he hears your words, a soft smile forms on Boothill's face. He places a hand on your cheek, gently stroking the side of your face as his other rests on your waist.

His eyes look deep into yours with affection, and a corner of his lips quirks upwards. “That's a mighty good offer ya’re givin’ me here, darlin’. But I’d rather you stop me from thinkin’ like that before I could.”

"Now that is a better plan..." You smile before leaning in to kiss him.

Boothill’s eyes flutter to a close as your lips press against his, a warm fluttering feeling erupting in his chest. The kiss is slow and tender, and he melts against your touch as he pulls you a little closer and into his embrace.

Once the kiss ends, Boothill opens his eyes and sighs, feeling calmer and a lot more pleasant than before.

“You’re way too good for this broken ol’ geezer.” He whispers affectionately.

"Boothill...honey... you're not even old!" You laugh softly and nuzzle against him.

Boothill lets out a low chuckle, his hand gently caressing your skin as he leans into your touch. "You sure about that, darlin'? I feel like a relic with all this metal on me."

He glances down at his metallic hand, flexing his fingers. Then, he looks back at you with a smile. “But as long as you’re tellin’ me otherwise, I guess I ain’t.”

"That's what I thought~" You press a kiss to his forehead.

A smirk spreads on Boothill’s face as he watches you kiss his forehead. He lifts a hand and gently caresses your face, his thumb rubbing your skin.

“Ain’t you a precious one?” He muses, his grin widening as he gazes at you. “I reckon I ain’t that old after all.” He adds, his teasing tone laced with an affectionate edge. “What gives you the right to be so adorable?”

"I'm your girlfriend, it's my job!" You smile warmly.

Once again, Boothill’s gaze falls into yours, and he feels a flutter in his chest at your words. He rests a hand on your waist, caressing your skin with the back of his cold metal fingers.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, a warm smile spreading on his face as he nods. His eyes lock with yours, and he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“And I reckon you’re doin’ a real good job at it, darlin’...” He adds, his voice low, warm and affectionate.

"Y'know... I'm always going to be here..." You smile. "Hey, hey!" You start to giggle. "I'm 'steel' here..." You joke.

Boothill lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head as you throw in a joke. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting it to his lips and planting a kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re real clever,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grows wider. In all honesty, he appreciates the effort you’re putting into cheering him up.

“Ain’t a doubt in me that you’d always be here for me, darlin’.”

You kiss him one more time. This time more passionate and love infused. As you pull away you smile. "I'll always...be here..."

The unexpected passion in your kiss catches Boothill off guard and leaves him breathless. As you pull away, he lets out a low gasp, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.

When you declare your promise, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he lets the moment sink in. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him, and he whispers back.

“I’ll be here for you, too, darlin’...”

🎀End🎀

#fanfic #honkai star rail #honkai sr #honkai star rail smut #hsr #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #boothill #boothill smut #new writer boost #new writers on tumblr #honkai fanfic

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enemiestolovershoe · 29 days ago

Note

JJ & Reader going night surfing and falling asleep in a hammock together, only for John b to find them in the morning and tease tf out of them about it?

More than just friends

JJ Maybank x bsf!reader

Summary: After a night of surfing and stargazing, JJ and the reader share a quiet moment that doesn’t go unnoticed the next morning.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Not proofread, minor drug use (smoking a joint)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the Pogues’ little setup by the bonfire outside the Chateau. The night was calm, almost hypnotic, and the waves lapped softly in the distance as the fire crackled. You, JJ, John B, Pope, and Kiara sat around, laughing and recounting stories, the kind of simple, perfect night that only really happened with this crew.

Kiara stretched, yawning, as the night wore on. “Alright, I’m calling it. I’ve got to get some sleep if we’re hitting the water tomorrow.”

Pope yawned as well, rubbing his eyes. “Same. I’m wiped out.”

John B gave you and JJ a lazy wave as he and the others trudged inside. “Don’t stay up too late, you two,” he called, smirking.

JJ just chuckled, kicking back against the log he was leaning on. “As if you can tell us what to do, JB.”

Soon, it was just you and JJ, sitting by the fire, watching as the embers glowed red-orange against the night sky. There was something peaceful about it—just the two of you, the soft crash of waves, and the dim glow of the fire.

After a few minutes, you got an idea. You nudged JJ, your eyes bright with mischief. “Hey. Wanna make this night even better?”

JJ raised an eyebrow, already grinning. “What, you got something up your sleeve?”

“Night surfing,” you said, practically bouncing with excitement. “The waves have been perfect all evening. Let’s hit them before they die down.”

He laughed, eyes lighting up at the idea. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, challenging him. “Unless you’re too tired, of course.”

JJ gave you an exaggerated scoff. “Me, too tired? Never.” He jumped up, pulling you with him. “Come on, let’s grab the boards.”

With a shared, excited look, you ran to get your surfboards, adrenaline already beginning to pulse through you both. The ocean looked almost mysterious in the dim moonlight, dark yet welcoming, as if it was inviting you two to take on one more adventure.

Once you waded into the water, JJ looked over at you, his grin barely visible in the dim light. “Ready to get smoked?”

“Please,” you said with a smirk, paddling out past him. “Let’s see if you can even keep up.”

The waves were just right—big enough to give you a challenge, but soft enough to make it fun. You rode wave after wave, the two of you laughing and occasionally shouting as you tried to one-up each other, the sound echoing over the water.

After a particularly good ride, JJ turned to you, still out of breath, his hair wet and clinging to his face. “I have to hand it to you, you didn’t wipe out as much as I thought you would,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. I was waiting for you to keep up.”

He shot you a lopsided grin. “Guess you’ll have to wait forever then, ‘cause I’m untouchable out here.”

As the waves finally began to die down, you both paddled back to shore, breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear. Back on the sand, you stretched out, laughing as you both tried to catch your breath.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“That was…awesome,” JJ said, staring up at the stars.

“Right?” you replied, lying back on the cool sand beside him.

After a few moments of quiet, JJ sat up, brushing sand from his board shorts. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Back at the Chateau, you both paused on the porch, feeling the night wind down. You looked over at JJ, and he held up the joint he’d pulled from his pocket with a grin. “One last thing to top off the night?”

“Only if you’re sharing,” you teased.

“Always,” he said, and motioned to the hammock. “Best seat in the house.”

You climbed into the hammock beside him, finding your balance as it swung gently with both of your weights. You took the joint from him, inhaling deeply, and watched as JJ lit up, the flame flickering in his face.

“Sometimes I think this is what I’d do forever if I could,” JJ murmured, looking up at the stars through the trees.

You exhaled, passing the joint back to him. “What, get high in a hammock every night?”

“No,” he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I mean… just this. Just chilling out here with you guys, like this is all that matters.”

You looked over at him, seeing a side of JJ you didn’t always get to see. “You know… you’re kind of a sap,” you teased, though your voice was soft.

“Don’t let it get around,” he muttered, looking at you, his eyes softened. “Can’t have everyone knowing I actually have feelings.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you said, smiling, a warmth in your chest that you couldn’t quite place.

He took another hit, handing the joint back to you. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know that?”

You gave him a look. “Wow, what a compliment.”

“Hey,” he said, laughing, his hand resting just beside yours, close enough that you could feel his warmth. “I don’t just give those out to anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. It felt so easy, lying there with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The two of you drifted into quiet conversation, talking about anything and everything until the night started to blur around the edges. Before you knew it, the world was growing hazy, your eyes beginning to close as you felt the gentle sway of the hammock.

At some point, you felt JJ’s arm around you, his breathing deep and steady as he fell asleep beside you. You leaned into him, the warmth of his presence making you feel safe and content as you drifted off.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the trees, slowly waking up the Pogues inside the Chateau. John B was the first to stir, stretching and blinking as he got up, wandering outside to see what mischief you and JJ had gotten into.

What he found made him pause—and then grin.

You and JJ were still tangled up in the hammock, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm securely around you, both fast asleep and oblivious to the world. John B stifled a laugh, fishing his phone out of his pocket to snap a few quick pictures.

“Too good to pass up,” he muttered, trying not to laugh too loudly. With one last amused glance at you both, he slipped back inside, shaking his head with a smirk.

An hour later, you stirred awake, blinking against the bright sunlight. It took a moment for you to realize where you were—and that JJ was still beside you, his arm comfortably around your shoulders, your hand resting on his chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could move, JJ’s eyes blinked open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Morning, surfer girl,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, feeling your cheeks warm, though you made no move to pull away.

Eventually, the two of you untangled yourselves, reluctantly climbing out of the hammock and making your way back inside. As you entered, John B was leaning against the counter, watching you both with an obnoxiously smug grin.

“Well, well, look who’s up,” he greeted, his tone thick with amusement. “Good morning, lovebirds.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “Shut up, John B.”

JJ just grinned, trying to brush it off. “Real funny, man. Keep it up.”

“Oh, I will,” John B said, laughing. He folded his arms, giving you both a knowing look. “So… how’d you two sleep?”

JJ narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. “What’s with the interrogation?”

Without a word, John B pulled out his phone and held up the pictures he’d taken. “I don’t need to interrogate you when the evidence speaks for itself.”

Your jaw dropped. “John B, what the hell?”

John B raised his hands innocently, grinning. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, the proof is in the photos.”

JJ rubbed the back of his neck, laughing it off. “Dude, come on. We were just…you know, we were tired. It was a long night.”

“Right,” John B said, his tone laced with sarcasm. He gave you both a serious look, his voice dropping slightly. “I don’t know if you’re really that blind, but you two are clearly more than just friends.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A/n: I hope you like it. :)

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namelessscenarios · 7 months ago

Text

Falling asleep with him

Warnings: none just very very little spice at the end but nothing to bad, fluff

Laying in bed with him, I can feel the length of him pressed against my back. The fan whirs and blows his hair softly against my neck while he presses his face gently against my back and shoulders. His arms wrap around me, causing the oversized sleep shirt I’m wearing to ride up, I can feel the heat from his bare torso through the thin material. My heart rate speeds up a little as I feel one of his hands trail from my stomach to the side of my ribcage, down my waist and hips, pausing for a moment to toy at the hem of my sleep shirt before continuing down to trace invisible patterns on my thighs. He scatters feather light kisses across the exposed skin of my neck, slowly he props himself up on his elbow, leaning over me and trailing kisses from my neck to my jaw. His hand goes from tracing patterns on my thigh to creeping under the hem of my shirt. I whisper his name softly, bringing my hand up to run my fingers through his hair. I can feel it as he smiles against my neck, he moves so that I’m under him now. His hips gently slotted between my legs as he continues to kiss up and down my neck and across my collar bones. His hand creeps up a little further, pushing the hem of my shirt up higher to expose my hips. He nips gently at the side of my neck, smiling when I let out a quiet yelp of surprise. At this point his fingertips are skimming lightly over my ribcage and he starts to kiss my chest and stomach over my shirt. When he reaches the exposed skin of my lower stomach he mutters to himself while looking up at me “Beautiful…” before continuing his trail of kisses. He begins to work his way back up, but he pushes the shirt up higher as he goes, exposing more bare skin for him to kiss. His fingertips dance across the soft skin of my sides before holding fast to my hips. He’s kissing my neck again as he pulls my hips flush against his, eliminating the little space that was left between us. I let out a little sigh at the feeling of him against me and he pulls his head back to look at me, he smiles down at me and finally kisses me, slow and sweet. He moves his hips slightly, trying to readjust himself, causing a bolt of tingles, making me gasp softly into the kiss. He smiles while still kissing me and moves his hips again, this time on purpose. The same feeling shoots through me and I let out a soft sigh. He runs the tip of his tongue against my bottom lip before pulling back slightly. He looks at me and says, “not tonight,” he kisses me again, softer than before, “I want it to be special.” Kissing me once more he shifts so my back is to his chest again tugging my shirt back down gently and wrapping his arms around me again as the soft whirring of the fan, and the sound of his even breathing lulls me back to sleep.

#relationship #scenarios #crush scenarios #namelessshipping #crush x reader #short story #new writers on tumblr #new writer boost

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opulent-valkyrie · 2 months ago

Note

Request/idea!

Established relationship with reader taking care of Chuuya after corruption. Like Dazai takes Chuuya to his penthouse to be taken care of by reader instead of the extraction point because Dazai knows Chuuya would be more comfortable with reader than in the pm hospital/medical bay (*cough* stormbringer *cough* *cough*)

Just like cute fluff where Chuuya is tense around reader because he's so vulnerable until eventually he relaxes when he realizes reader isn't leaving or gonna hurt him

Oh god YES

Chuuya x reader

(established relationship)

The soft glow of the evening lights filled the penthouse, casting long shadows across the quiet room. Outside, the city buzzed faintly, a contrast to the stillness inside. You stood by the bed, looking down at Chuuya, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion, his breathing deep and slow. He was out cold—completely unconscious after pushing himself too far in battle, having using Corruption again.

Dazai had brought him here instead of to the Port Mafia’s medical bay, knowing that Chuuya would be more comfortable in your care than surrounded by cold hospital walls. It had been a quiet exchange—no teasing remarks, no sarcastic barbs. Just a mutual understanding between you and Dazai that Chuuya needed this (i made dazai responsible/sensible 💀).

Now, standing over him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry despite knowing he’d recover. You gently brushed his damp hair away from his forehead, feeling the faint warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. He looked so different when he was like this—so vulnerable, so unlike the fierce, unyielding man you knew. The one who stood tall (yes i did this on purpose 🦖) , who commanded respect with every word, every movement.

Sighing softly, you sat down on the edge of the bed, your fingers trailing along his arm. He didn’t stir, completely lost in the deep sleep that always followed his use of Corruption. You hated seeing him like this—not because he was weak, but because you knew how much he hated being seen this way. Vulnerability was something Chuuya rarely allowed, and you knew he fought against it even in unconsciousness.

“You always push yourself too hard,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. “You don’t have to… not with me.”

The words hung in the air, but they were more for you than for him. You knew Chuuya—knew that even if he could hear you now, he wouldn’t listen. He was stubborn like that, always trying to carry the weight of the world on his own.

You stayed like that for a while, your hand gently brushing over his chest, the sound of his breathing the only noise in the room. It was rare to see him like this—so still, so quiet. In these moments, he seemed almost fragile, and the thought of him waking up alone after such an ordeal tugged at your chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Chu,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with a quiet determination. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He didn’t respond—of course he didn’t—but as you settled beside him, you felt the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding slowly melt away. You knew that when he woke up, he’d still be the same Chuuya, sharp and biting, with walls built up so high it was a wonder anyone ever got through. But for now, in this quiet moment, there was peace.

And as you lay there beside him, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his hand, you knew that when he finally opened his eyes, you’d be right here. Just like always.

Timeskip

Chuuya stirred slightly, his breathing shifting as he started to emerge from the deep sleep that had held him for hours. You stayed still, your fingers still tracing light patterns on his hand, waiting for the moment he would fully wake up. You could tell he was still groggy, his mind pulling itself from the depths of exhaustion.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, the sharp blue softened with lingering fatigue. His gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes—like he wasn’t sure if you were really there. But then, recognition settled, and his usual tension melted away.

“[Y/N]...” he muttered, his voice rough, barely more than a rasp. His hand instinctively tightened around yours, a quiet reassurance that he was here, that you were here, together. His lips curved into a small, tired smile, so different from the usual smirk he wore in public. This was Chuuya, stripped of all the fire and pride—just him, softer, vulnerable, but comfortable with you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you replied quietly, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “You really overdid it this time.”

Chuuya huffed softly, his usual bravado flickering, but the tiredness in his eyes betrayed him. “Tch… I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words. His free hand came up to cover his face for a second, as if trying to hide the weariness he couldn’t fully shake.

“Sure you are,” you teased lightly, leaning in just a little closer, your thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. “That’s why Dazai had to drag you here half-dead.”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was no anger behind it, just a quiet acceptance of his own limits. “That damn suicidal idiot…” He paused, lowering his hand from his face to meet your gaze again, and something in his expression softened even more. “He knew you’d take better care of me than anyone else would.”

You smiled at that, warmth spreading through you at the quiet admission. “He’s not wrong, you know. Though I’ve got half a mind to yell at you for pushing yourself so hard.”

Chuuya sighed, his eyes closing for a moment as he allowed himself to sink further into the comfort of your presence. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with that gentle warmth that he reserved only for you. He shifted slightly, moving closer to you as if seeking more of your warmth, his hand still firmly holding yours. “But… I’m glad it’s you here. Always.”

There was something different in his tone—a vulnerability that Chuuya rarely allowed himself to show. His guard was down, and in this quiet moment, he wasn’t the powerful mafia executive or the ruthless fighter. He was just Chuuya—your Chuuya.

You shifted closer, gently resting your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere, Chuuya. You know that, right?”

His eyes opened, locking with yours, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. But the way his hand tightened around yours, the way his body relaxed against you, told you everything. He didn’t need to say it—he trusted you completely. And that trust, that vulnerability, was something he rarely gave to anyone.

“I know,” he whispered finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I just… sometimes I need to be reminded.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax completely against you. “Well, I’m always here to remind you.”

Chuuya’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing once more. “Good,” he mumbled, the tension in his body gone now, replaced with a rare calm. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”

And with that, the two of you sat in the quiet of the room, his hand in yours, as Chuuya finally allowed himself to rest—safe in the knowledge that you weren’t going anywhere.

#bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd fluff #kafka asagiri #new writer boost #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #bsd men #fluff?#fyp #requsts are open #taking requests

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confiaenanaa · 14 days ago

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Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.

needed - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?

warnings: cursing, drinking

A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day.

…

He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.

He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him.

That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check.

-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what’s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you?

-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it!

-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!

- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!

- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!

-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop!

-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already?

-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.

-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!

Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.

But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.

Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her.

Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she.

She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to.

She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night.

When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the smell reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crown in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle.

She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.

She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly.

The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked.

She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.

“hello?”

“babyyy??”

“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”

She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style.

…

The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand.

As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant.

Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet.

-Wait, look, I gotcha something.

He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.

-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.

Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it.

A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world.

He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.

Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.

#eminem imagine #eminem x reader #new writer boost #masterlist #writers on tumblr #eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #hip hop #dr dre #50 cent #eminem fanfiction #eminem fluff #marshall Mathers x reader #slim shady x reader

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seiwas · 10 months ago

Text

ෆ a small valentines collab by augustinewrites & seiwas ෆ

can i ask for a piece of your heart? you have mine already —snippets in time holding the different ways to say 'i love you'

MASTERLIST

augustinewrites

ෆ "i want you (i think you know)." — miya atsumu ༝༚༝༚ realizing you’ve fallen for someone you shouldn’t have is hard. even harder when that person is miya atsumu.

ෆ "made with love." — miya osamu ༝༚༝༚ onigiri miya will be closed on valentine’s day (the owner plans on getting engaged).

ෆ "hey stupid, i love you." — gojo satoru (keeping up with the fushigojos) ༝༚༝༚ how to almost ask your not so secret crush to be your valentine.

seiwas

ෆ "i left my keys on your bedroom floor." — miya atsumu ༝༚༝༚ atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love.

ෆ "mornings don't feel the same without you." — iwaizumi hajime ༝༚༝༚ hajime thinks that it's been a long time coming for him to wake up with this realization.

ෆ "don't let go, okay?" — gojo satoru (conversations on love) ༝༚༝༚ it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentines day.

*masterlist will be updated as we release each fic. boosts are appreciated!

ෆ in the spirit of this season, a gift full of love from us to you ෆ — @augustinewrites & @seiwas

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uwukiity · 4 months ago

Note

Hello,

My name is Mohammed from Gaza. I am not a robot or a scammer. Due to the war in Gaza, I lost my mother, father, and brothers, and I sustained severe injuries to my leg. I appeal to you to protect my children and take them out of Gaza and help me complete my treatment abroad because my leg is at risk of amputation due to the lack of necessary treatment 😭. My wife is suffering from uterine cancer and hasn't received a chemotherapy session since the beginning of the events in Gaza. I humbly request a donation of €5 or more to treat my leg, my wife, and my innocent children.

Every passing minute threatens me with losing my leg, my wife, or my children.

My campaign has been documented and my data verified, and you can verify my story by requesting any information you need. Please donate and share my story.

My wife, children, and I are waiting for your donations.

Thank you very much. 🙏🙏

I really wish I could but I can't donate any money at this moment but I will post your gfm link so you can get the help that you need.

PLEASE HELP THIS FAMILY IN NEED!!!!!!!!!!

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missbunnybunny · 5 months ago

Text

❛❛ 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖚𝖐𝖊 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓.❜❜

B-day post, sorry it's a little late.

- Enjoy!

Not Proofread, Not spell checked, Manipulation, Yandere, False Imprisonment. «🛑𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸🛑»

Y/n stared at herself in the mirror. She touched her face in horror as she looked in the vintage mirror.

Running to open her window, she pushed it open, seeing that this was no way, shape or form her world.

For fuck sake, there was even a large gazebo in the backyard. That was rich people's shit.

There was a knock on the door, drawing her attention from the window view.

"My lady." a voice called.

" Come in!" Y/n yelled back as she stood in the middle of the large bedroom awkwardly.

A woman with tied black hair, and a maid's outfit enters the room with a wheeled cart.

" My lady, I came to bring you breakfast." the freckled maid smiled.

Y/n sat in her bed, distressed, what was she going to do.

Holding her head, Y/n looked at her maid, " I'm sorry, but what's your name."

" Oh! I'm Anny." the maid smiles, setting up the table for her mistress to eat.

" My memory is blurry, I don't remember last night." Y/n lies.

" That should be reasonable, you had a high fever last night," Anny explained, leading Y/n to the table.

" Would you remind me of everything? " You asked.

Anny clapped her hands smiling, " Yes."

Anny explained, that this was Frostfall kingdom. The royal family consisted of five members, the emperor, the empress, two princes, and the princess.

Mistress Y/n is a member of the Evergarden Duchesse. The family was constructed by, the duke, duchess, lady Y/n, her sister, and brother.

" And finally, I am your personal maid." Anny pointed at herself proudly.

After Anny explained everything to you, it dawned on you. This was Otome game! One that you didn't remember too much.

you had to go on pretending to be the daughter of the duke, but one thing you were glad of is that you will never meet the male lead. In fact, you didn't remember what they looked like.

Her mission for the time being was serving and finding a way out of this game.

" My lady. It's time to get ready." Anny announced, snapping you from your thoughts.

" Alright," Y/n responded back.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

After getting ready and doing all the tiring things a noble lady would do, you were making your way downstairs.

" My darling Daughter." Y/n heard an older voice calling out to her from behind.

The older woman hugged, Y/n before taking her face in hers and examining it. " Oh, dear. You have no idea how worried your father and I were." the duchess sighed.

" Sorry, Mother." Y/n apologized.

" No need, shall we go meet your father?" the duchess asked, taking her daughter's arm and walking away.

' Can't escape now,' Y/n thought, letting out a sigh. This was going to be a long day.

Making it to a large door, the duchess knocked on it twice, before receiving a response back.

Entering the room she spotted a man, covered in paperwork, with a man standing next to him.

" Dear, our dear daughter is here." His wife said.

The duke looked up before jumping from his seat and hugging Y/n.

It startled Y/n she thought this was a cliche, parents hate their kids and all but she was wrong.

The duke began to ask Y/n how she was feeling, if he could get her anything, almost spoiling her rotten.

The man still standing next to the duke's desk, clears his throat, " Your grace. The paperwork is not going to be doing itself." he warns.

This makes the duke have the face of a kicked dog as he reluctantly gets back to the workload waiting for him.

The duke is silently crying as he does his workload. He looks like a child doing his homework with his mom looking over his shoulder.

The duchess chuckles at her husband's antics before turning to her daughter.

"Dear, while your siblings are in the academy. Would you like to go out to town? This house can be stuffy." She sighs softly, placing her hand on her cheek.

" May I, Mother?" You asked, not hiding your excitement.

"Of course, dear, I'll have the butler ready a carriage." The duchess waves, a butler quickly leaving to comple his master's orders.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

— An hour had passed, and the carriage was ready. Y/n, with the help of the knight that was tasked with escorting her, enter her ride.

Anny had already entered, and she patiently awaited for her lady to enter so the journey could begin.

" There is a market in town and many wonderful places, my Lady." Anny smiled, listing off future plans.

The ride to town was uneventful. The sinery was peaceful and beautiful, and the trees swayed with the breeze.

The ducks and swans swam os the water as if they were dancing. The sunlight glittering their feathers like pears and jewels.

Anny was excited as she talked your ear off. It was pleasant, and you would indulge her in conversation once in a while.

The city came into view, with many colorful flags, stalls, and caravans. It was a sight to see, like a festival in your world but with the expectation of elves, witches, orcs, dragons, and so on.

Anny's eyes began to sparkle as she looked at the many things to partake in. And as soon as the carriage stopped she all but jumped from her seat.

She was more excited than you, making you smile at her antics.

There was a soft knock on the door, and the voice of her knight escort, " My lady, you can exit now." he was holding the door open, for both her and her maid.

" Thank you," You smiled kindly at the man and took his hand as you exited your ride.

Looking around you marbled, joy pumping in your veins as to the many things you could see.

"Ah, my lady! Look at the food stand. And that one selling jewels."

Anny pointed from one stand to the next, "Shall we have a look at the jewel stand over there." Y/n laughed.

Y/n's knight, Ray, nodded at her statement. Walking to the many stands Y/n felt drawn to one in particular, it was being run by an elf.

The kind owner smiled warmly like the sun, showcasing the many items they had. A neckless and a bracelet, called to you as if befallen upon a spell.

" I would like these two, please," Y/n asked, pointing at the wanted items.

" Ah yes, those are quite unique items." They said, taking the jewels from their case and giving it to them.

" How much would that be?" Y/n asked. The owner simply asked for two gold coins and she was happy to pay.

Y/n handed the bracelet to Anny, in a way showing thanks.

Anny took you and your guard around the town, walking for what felt like hours. When you asked your escort what time it was, he informed you that 2 hours had passed.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

Anny's stomach grumbled, making her blush and try to cover her abdomen.

This made you chuckle at how shy she was, "Anny, we can stop to get some food." You smiled, "Look that restaurant looks perfect."

Her eyes shined, and her smile widened before she shyly told you she couldn't ask for such a thing.

"Nonsense," you spoke. Taking her hand and sitting her down. A waiter asked how he could help you.

Anny ordered a small desert and a drink while you ordered your favorite cake and drink.

Your maid thanked you again, saying that you were a kind mistress to her.

Your orders had arrived by then, and the cake was delicious.

You didn't notice the clocked figure suddenly stopping in their tracks as they looked at you.

A smaller clocked figure ran up to them whisper yelling, " Your highness! Please wait."

"What is it, Alan?" They asked, still looking forward.

"The crown prince can't be wandering around." Alan scolded.

" I am not wondering around, I'm trying to find leads for the recent murders in town." He respondes, eyes fixed on the way your lips parted as you ate.

From what family were you? How could there be such alluring, mesmerizing beauty in such a person?

He reluctantly looked away from your smiling face and forced himself to walk away. He has a duty to uphold, for the kingdom

Looking around, you sighed, the sun felt so nice on your skin. The fresh air and the sweet pasty lifted your stress, but only for a while.

The sound of multiple marching steps made you look over Anny's shoulder, the kingdoms knight were on patrol.

They looked serious and professional. Anny's voice drew your view away, " Shall we take a look at dress shops, or would you fancy some shoes, my lady?"

Giving her a close eyed smile, you responded that sitting here for a few more minutes would be just fine.

A knight became slightly uncoordinated, your smile had his heart beating fast and wildly. His face became flushed pink, before he continued on his way.

What beautiful smile you had, blinding like sun and warm like the summer breeze.

He wanted to look at your beauty more so he could burn the image in this mind.

The dress you're wearing brings out your beauty, it suits you, anything that you would wear would look beautiful on you.

The thought of leaving his job to work as your personal knight, from what family are you? Is that your personal knight next to you?

Fuck, his superior is calling him out to pay attention.

Standing up, Anny and your knight follow closely behind. The sun was getting lower, and some stalls were closing.

A thought crosses your mind, you should get a gift for your 'parents.' Y/n made her way to a boutique. As you walked to one that caught your eye, you heard something fall.

A man with his arm full of books and other things rushed past you.

Looking down, you spotted what he dropped, a star shape battle it midnight liquid. It was pretty, but you knew it was important.

"Hey, wait!" You called out.

You run up to him, finally catching him, "Y-You dropped this." You huffed exhausted, lifting the bottle up to him.

He looked at you. You were pretty. Who were you? "Ah, thank you." He spoke softly.

"From what family are you?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

" Oh, I'm from—" "My Ladya we have to hurry." Anny yelled.

"Ah, sorry." Y/n bows before running off into the crowd.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

Your knight carried a couple of bags full of clothes or other things. You argued that you should at least carry some stuff.

You carried 3 boxes, one of jewelry and two of shoes. It might have been a mistake, cuz right now, you couldn't see where you were going.

And bang, your boxes fell, and so did you. An arm caught you, he was tall, " Are you okay?" He asked.

"Ah, yes." You smiled, trying to stand up, but you stumbled forward. He noticed your heel had broken.

"Sorry, " he says, embarrassed, your knight and maid are by your side worried.

He fixes his hood, " Please sit," he said, taking you to a bench.

He runs off, leaving you a little confused. Now you sat at the bench missing a shoe.

He dissappears off into a shop, you think. Before he returned with a box in his hands.

"I apologize here." He kneels, making you blush. He opens the box and changes your shoes.

Now you are the proud owner of a new pair of shoes.

Damn, princess syndrome is gonna hit you hard when you get home.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

Inside the carriage, you arrived at your home. You see a very handsome man outside your family door, seemingly being seen off by your father.

" Father," Y/n waves happy, as her knight helps her off.

Your father smiles, greeting you with a hug and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/n dear, this is the duke." Your father introduced.

The Duke looks at you amused.

"H-Hello," you say, blushing. This man was making you nervous.

He smiles, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, "My lady," his voice was deep.

He chuckles, seeing your face burn bright red. You look at anything but him.

"I must say my goodbyes," he smiled, giving your father a handshake and your hand another kiss.

He leaves the state.

"Father, I have some gifts for you." You say happily.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

The party is in full swing. You most admit your father is a great party host. A beautiful woman dressed elegantly caught your eye.

The female lead.

The clock is turning, but this time, you don't know of the unknown route that the kingdom is walking into.

Can you survive?

Will you survive this new change?

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

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