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jazzthatonewriterchick · 11 months ago

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Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

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You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay?

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants.

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him.

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place.

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out.

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did.

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away.

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on.

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?”

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.”

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.”

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can.

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.”

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.”

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!”

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!”

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.”

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.”

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm.

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva.

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes.

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp.

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight.

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases.

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?”

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak.

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!”

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?”

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.”

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass.

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis.

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted.

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time.

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock.

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.”

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob.

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent.

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.”

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!”

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy.

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?”

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.”

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.”

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy.

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.”

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are.

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?”

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.”

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

#smutty smut #my works #black fanfic writer #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #feral gojo #happy birthday gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

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aemondsbabe · 6 months ago

Text

From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.”

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”

“Pretend?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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kwanisms · 2 years ago

Text

Kinkuary 20 Jeongin — cnc/dubcon // table/counter sex

➥ dom!Jeongin × sub!Reader

summary: Y/N’s biggest fantasy has always been to be forcefully taken advantage of, something she never shared until she started dating Jeongin who seems more than willing to help bring her fantasy to life.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): fingering, rough unprotected sex (use protection!), Jeongin pins the reader down and forces himself on her (it's consensual! It's part of the con noncon thing!), reader asks him to stop and says no but it's part of her fantasy, sex on a table (they make a mess of their dining room lol oops), dirty talk and degrading names, Jeongin comes off as a little mean but it's all part of the fantasy. I think I got them all but let me know if I missed any!

a/n: TW: THEMES OF CONSENSUAL NON CONSENSUAL SEX. ALSO CALLED CON NONCON OR CONSENSUAL R@PE. THE READER HAS AGREED TO THIS PREVIOUSLY. If this topic bothers you, DO NOT READ!!! When she says no and asks him to stop, it's part of her fantasy and Jeongin makes sure to check in and give Y/N the opportunity to use their safe word to make sure she's still good to go. Consent is sexy and the most important thing between partners. Thank you for reading this installment of Kinkuary! If you like it, pls reblog as it helps with getting more people to see my work and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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You pushed at Jeongin’s chest, trying to push him off you but it was no use, not when your boyfriend was definitely stronger than you and for good reason. He’d spent most of his free time in the gym with Chris and Changbin.

And it was beginning to show how easily he overpowered you.

“Stop fighting me, Y/N,” Jeongin purred, caging your ur body between his arms and pressing you against the wall. “No,” you whimpered, gripping the front of his sweatshirt. “Let me go!”

When you first explained you fantasy to you boyfriend, he took the time to sit you down and have you walk him through every aspect. He was intrigued by the idea of consensual non consensual sex and even more impressed that you trusted him enough.

By no means, did Jeongin ever fantasize about taking advantage of you but when you assured him it was something you fantasized about a lot, he was willing to give it a try and came to find that he absolutely loved it.

He loved the control and power it gave him to over power you, but more than anything, he loved how you trusted and loved him enough to let him into this secret world of yours.

He’d fulfilled this fantasy of yours more than once and somehow he managed to keep it new and exciting each time.

You’d sent a text to Jeongin, one of your usual to communicate that you wanted him to come home and take advantage of you.

You: you wanna play with me tonight?

Innie🦊: tonight? You sure?

You: yes. Today was so stressful at work. Pls Innie?

Innie🦊: of course baby. Whatever you want 💕 what do you wanna play?

You: thank you Innie 🥰 how about obsessed stalker?

Innie🦊: i think I’m a little out of practice with that one. How about jealous estranged boyfriend comes home after a fight? I think i can pull that off on short notice 😉

You: perfect ♥️

Innie🦊: safe word?

You: cherries 🍒

You’d gone about your day like normal, making dinner, cleaning up the apartment, and putting away clean laundry. You were finishing filling the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.

You curiously walked over and peered through the peephole to see Jeongin standing outside the door. You sent him a quick text.

You: what do you want?

Innie🦊: let me in.

You: no. You left for a reason, Jeongin

Innie🦊: please baby. Let’s talk this out.

You: I don’t have the energy to argue anymore, Jeongin.

Innie🦊: no arguing. No fighting. I promise.

You forced the smile off your face before unlocking the door and pulling it open, but only as far as the chain lock would allow.

Jeongin turned to look through the gap.

“Baby,” he said, smiling at you.

He noticed the chain. “What’s with the chain?” He asked, smile almost falling instantly. You shook your head. “You wanted to talk?” You asked, noticing the way the smile on his face fell completely.

“Let me in, please, Y/N. I don’t want to talk this out through the door.”

You hesitated, eyeing him as he stood on the other side of the door, looking equal parts sad and pathetic. You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Fine! But you’ve got five minutes,” you said as you closed the door, undoing the chain and letting it open, allowing Jeongin inside. Once he was inside, he shut the door, locking it and advanced on you, taking your face in his hands. “I missed you so much,” he said softly, pulling you into a kiss which you tried to shy away from.

You weren’t going to let him get it that easily.

“You wanted to talk,” you said, trying to keep your voice even but the excitement of what Jeongin was about to do was evident.

You moved to the kitchen island and waited for Jeongin to make his move.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Jeongin said, taking your hand in his, caressing the back of it absentmindedly. “I was such a jerk the last time we spoke. I said some things I knew would hurt you and I never should have said them,” he said softly.

The look on his face was genuine and for a split second you forgot he was acting, as were you. He’d just gotten so good at it.

“What’s said is done, Jeongin,” you replied, pulling your hand from his. “Let’s just forget it and move on,” you added.

“Of course. I’d like nothing more than to move on with you,” Jeongin replied, getting to his feet as you moved to put space between you.

“Jeongin,” you warned. “When I said move on, I meant move on alone,” you continued. “We need to end things. This isn’t good for either of us.”

Jeongin’s expression shifted from confusion to anger. “Are you breaking up with me?” He demanded, sounding every bit outraged as he would, were this real.

You nodded slowly. “It’s for the best,” you said softly, moving out of his grasp and towards the door, hoping to urge him out into the hall. “Baby, please don’t do this,” Jeongin pleaded. “Give me another chance,” he added.

“I’m sorry, Jeongin. I just can’t,” you said, reaching for the doorknob. You felt his hand close around your wrist. “Is there someone else?” He demanded. You shook your head, trying to pull from his grip. “No! There isn’t someone else!”

His eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying you weren’t all buddy-buddy with Seungmin the other day?” He growled, eyes flashing darkly. For a moment you thought he was being serious. That he actually thought you were messing around with one of his friends. You pulled from his grip, turning to grab the doorknob.

“You need to leave.” You twisted the handle, pulling the door open only for Jeongin to force it shut. This was exactly what you were hoping for.

-last warning. con noncon from this point on-

“Did you really think it would be that easy to get rid of me?” He asked in a much lower and darker tone. You looked up at him, eyes wide. In all the times you’d acted out this fantasy, his voice had never once sounded like that.

It sent a chill up your spine as he grabbed your wrist and turned you, pushing your back against the wall and pressing himself against you, keeping you pinned to the wall. “What’re you—” you started but stopped when he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You melted for a moment before remembering the act.

“Get off me,” you hissed, pushing him off you only for him to cage you against the wall, leaning in to whisper four words that would be your undoing.

“Stop fighting me Y/N.”

The next few steps happened so quickly it took your brain a moment to catch up. Jeongin grabbed your wrists, pinning them against the wall on either side of your head, leaning in to brush his lips against yours as you whimpered out a no.

“I know you want this,” he purred, a devilish grin on his face because he was right. You did want this. You did ask for this. It was the delivery of his words that had your heart racing. “Let me go,” you whined, struggling against his grip.

Jeongin let out a chuckle. “It’s so cute how you fight back, knowing you could never escape me,” he retorted, his tone low. “I promise you’ll love it,” he added and before you had a chance to respond, he’d grabbed you by your hair, guiding you over to your dining room table.

“What are you doing?” You cried as he knocked everything off the table, turning you to face away before bending you over the wooden surface, keeping you pinned against it with one hand and undoing his pants with the other.

“Stop!” You cried out, struggling against him as he grabbed your shorts and panties and pulled them down your thighs with one hand. “Jeongin!” You whimpered as he kept you pinned down, one hand disappearing between your thighs to find your center already soaked.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers finding your clit and teasing it briefly before moving up to your slit. “I knew you’d enjoy this,” he continued, pushing two fingers into your cunt. “So wet already for me.” You shook your head, eyes burning with tears.

“S-stop,” you whimpered, walls clenching around his fingers. “But you’re responding so well,” he chuckled. “Squeezing around my fingers like you want more,” he added, pulling his fingers from your pussy and rubbing the tip of his now freed cock against you.

“Jeongin please,” you sobbed. “Stop!” ‘Don’t stop!’

He sighed, leaning forward, resting his forearm across your back and ducked his head closer to your ear. “Do you really want me to stop? You know what to say,” he whispered, the teasing tone absent from his voice. He was giving you a chance to use your safe word but this is what you wanted.

You shook your head quickly, letting him know you weren’t calling it quits.

“Then shut up and stop crying,” he said, the darker tone back in his voice.

“Just stay there and take it.”

You let out a moan, hands balling into fists as he pushed the tip of his cock into your cunt, your walls pulling him in as he bottomed out, a groan leaving his lips as he stilled, buried balls deep inside you.

“Fuuuuck me,” he growled, his momentary lapse in focus allowing you to try and push yourself up. He was quick to regain control, pushing you back down, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them behind your back to hold with one hand. “I told you to stay there,” he ordered.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” You hissed, struggling against his hold. You felt his fingers dig into your hair. “I already told you once,” he grunted, giving you a sharp thrust. “Stop.” thrust “Fucking.” thrust “Fighting me!” thrust.

You cried out with each sharp hit of his hips against your ass. “Jeongin please stop!” You sobbed again, tears burning the corners of your eyes and blurring your vision. “Stop bitching,” he growled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“Just lay there and take it like a good girl,” he scoffed. “I know I’m not the only one you’ve been fucking,” he added. “W-what?” You asked incredulously, trying to focus on the dialogue. “You’ve been fucking my friends behind my back, haven’t you?”

You shook your head. “No I haven’t!” Jeongin ignored your protests.

“You think just because I left the apartment the other day that you can go off and fuck anyone?” He asked, the force of his thrusts causing the table to scrape against the floor. “N-no!” You cried out. “I haven’t been fucking anyone!”

Jeongin scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh,” he growled. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N.” He let out a chuckle. “It doesn’t matter how many guys you fuck after me. You’re mine,” he added. “You. Are. Mine.”

Your walls clenched around his cock at his words as if agreeing and solidifying his claim over you.

“This pussy is mine,” he continued, giving a few measured, sharp thrusts before resuming the same relentless pace from before. “That pretty mouth is mine,” he added, releasing your wrists and leaning over your back, pinning you to the table as his hips continued their assault.

His hand came up around your mouth, cutting off your protests and your screams as he pounded into you. “That’s it, baby,” he said softly. “Scream for me. No one can hear you.” Your walls tightened around him, your thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed over you quickly.

“Oh that was fast,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m not done yet.”

You tried to pry his hand off your mouth but he was too strong for you. His free arm wrapped around your chest. “If you don’t want me to tie your hands, stop fighting me and just take it,” he groaned, hips moving erratically, thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own high.

You moaned, the sound muffled by his hand as his own orgasm washed over him, his hips stuttering to a halt as he buried his cock deep inside you as he came, emptying his load into your cunt. “Fuck!” He swore loudly, giving you a couple more thrusts before letting go of you and pushing himself up.

You fell limp against the table, panting heavily. “Y/N?” Jeongin said, his voice back to normal. “You alright baby?” He asked. You nodded feebly.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses against your cheek. You shook your head. “No,” you said hoarsely. “It was perfect.”

Jeongin pressed a couple kisses to your head before finally pulling out of you, wincing from sensitivity as you whined at the loss of his cock inside you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, pulling your shorts and underwear back up. “I’ll pick up later,” he added as he helped you stand up straight, your legs shaking as he supported your weight.

“Do you need me to carry you?” He asked, all semblance of the act from before gone. He was just your loving, sweet, and caring boyfriend again. You shook your head but let out a little yelp when he scooped you up anyway.

“Jeongin!” You whined in embarrassment as he carried you through your apartment towards the bathroom. He silenced you with a kiss before setting you on your feet and guiding you to sit on the closed toilet lid.

“Shower first, then bed,” he said as he turned to start the water. “Bed?” You asked, looking up at him. “It’s only—” you tried to protest but he silenced you yet again with another kiss, this time longer than the last.

“Yes. Bed. I want you to rest. Then we’ll have dinner and then makeup sex,” he added. “But—” he pressed a finger to your lips. “No buts,” he answered.

“I’m gonna cuddle you, feed you, and spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for! Jeongin, I asked for that. I wanted it!”

He shook his head as he tested the water. “You didn’t ask for that part with Minnie. I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “I don’t think you’d ever sleep with my friends by the way.” You nodded. “I know Innie,” you said as he knelt before you.

“It was just part of the act. I know that,” you said, caressing his cheek. He took your hand in his, placing a kiss to the back of it and caressing your skin with his thumb. “I love you,” he said softly, looking up at you.

You smiled at his admission. “I know that, too,” he playfully smacked the back of your hand. “Yah! Say it back!” You rolled your eyes, sliding from your seat and onto his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck before your lips descended onto his.

“I love you too, you dork.”

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #tw: cnc #tw: con noncon #cw: cnc #cw: con noncon #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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skemford · 1 year ago

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Wanted to collect some thoughts i have about the ink demon as a character and what made him the way he is

So here we go, another personal character analysis

1. Backstory/Background

As we all know, the ink demon is an attempt to create real life toon Bendy with using the ink machine

He's the only one known instance of cartoon character being recreated without someone dying (for example, Buddy Boris) or without them being based on real people (Tom and Allison)

GENT and Joey saw him as a failed experiment and they've tried to find reasons for "why" it didn't worked the way it was intended.

It's really important for story's development and becomes one of main forces that move it:

Joey believes that you need human souls to create a perfect cartoon character (explored through batim)

GENT tries to figure out if there's something wrong with the ink machine and decides to start experiments on humans later (batdr/fade to black)

1.1 Isolation

The ink demon was closed off and isolated from everyone while they've tried to find the ways to "fix" him

Joey said that he started this project to create "alive attractions" and BendyLand in batim's cycle has a spot where Bendy (presumably) could've been placed if he was perfect:

which, obviously, didn't happen

It's worth to note that this place can be found at the haunted house which is a part of "Dark Land", location that was later confirmed to be toon Bendy's personalized attraction.

We don't know for how long the ink demon was closed at JDS but it was long enough for some employees like Norman to notice that something is off:

"...Every night, just as I'm pickin' up my coat, there's a deep groan rising up from the floor. One of these days, I'm gonna get my light and see what's causin' all the fuss below me" (Norman Polk, Boris and the dark survival tape)

After JDS went down, he was transported to New Jersey and was closed off again.

Similar thing repeats one more time in 1953 when Joey has started to work on "Joey Drew Studios show" at Kismet Productions.

We have no idea when exactly Joey has decided to 'permanently' put him in the cycle,we can only speculate that it happened somewhere in 1950s.

2. Thomas Connor/GENT

Thomas is GENT representative at JDS and he was directly involved in the ink machine's creation:

"One weird note, the first figure ever created was a failed attempt in the likeness of the character called Bendy" (Thomas Connor, batim ch 5)

In batim ch 5 Joey claims that he saw the ink demon at Tom's office which confirms that he was completely harmless at the beginning:

"...Whatever that grinning thing was I saw wandering around your office,you better keep it locked up tight!" (Joey Drew, chapter 5 tape)

He doesn't say anything about him being violent or damaging their property.

It looks like the way he acts is a consequence of abuse and isolation from GENT and Joey; it's not the reason he was isolated in the first place.

3. Joey Drew

Joey saw toon Bendy as his child that he loved and cherished but the ink demon is seen as "a weird abomination" and "a grinning thing" by him:

("... I'm paying for living attractions,not weird abominations!...")

Outside of wanting to make profit without spending more money than he intended to,Joey is also known to be obsessed with toon Bendy and his design; he sees the little devil as the most perfect work of art the world has ever saw:

"Picture me standing side by side with my greatest creation, Bendy." (TIOL, page 11)

He also notes in TIOL that toon Bendy's creation process was supposed to perfect and he nitpicks every minor detail as important

Joey calls himself a perfectionist on multiple occasions which further explains his disgust toward the ink demon, someone who came out "imperfection".

"...They were swell, I’m sure you’ve seen them and enjoyed them yourself, but they weren’t what I, ever the perfectionist, wanted them to be. Something was off." (TIOL, page 159)

"It wasn’t Bendy. But it was a cartoon character. It triggered something inside me. That deep-down place that held the solution to Bendy’s appearance had finally stirred" (TIOL,page 153)

Shawn Flynn mentions that Joey reacts deeply negatively to bendy dolls having crooked smiles:

"...So what if i went and painted some of these bendy dolls with a crooked smile? That's sure no reason for Mr. Drew to be flyin' off the handle at me..." (Shawn Flynn, batim ch 3 tape)

In Joey's eyes, Bendy was supposed to be 1 in 1 recreation for him to be perfect and lovable; the idea of him coming out off-model was something deeply unacceptable.

He separates bendy from the ink demon and calls the ink demon monster or beast:

“I think you woke the beast.” (FtB, page 247)

We know the ink demon's perspective on Joey only through his minor interaction with Memory Joey in Batdr's ending. After he decided to speak about his love toward Audrey with ignoring second person in the room, the ink demon calls him a "poor excuse of Joey Drew" and crushes to death.

He was never loved after being recreated by the ink machine and this scene can be easily interpreted as jealousy.

Even with Audrey and the ink demon temporarily sharing one body, she was still separated and put above him.

4. Henry Stein

Henry is Bendy's second creator (or "real" one, depends on how you interpret this) but he wasn't present in the ink demon's life when he was 'born' from the ink machine.

Does the ink demon know that Cycle! Henry is not the real deal? Likely he does, it was stated a couple of times that he can differentiate humans from ink creatures (and he senses ink creatures through the ink)

Latest source of this information is FtB, where he easily knew where Archie Carter, person who was experimented on, was located.

“He’s connected to me. I can’t hide and I’m leading him right for you both..." (page 215, FTB)

We don't know the ink demon's perspective on Henry (sadly,they don't have interactions in BATDR) but it can be said that he likely has complicated feelings about him.

The tombstone picnic cartoon (1929) features toon Bendy looking at someone and smiling after seeing them:

TimetheHobo (previous cartoon animator) has confirmed that this shadow was intended to be Henry:

It explains why this is the only one cartoon with a lost ending; after Henry has left the studio, Joey didn't wanted him to be associated with Bendy in any way. But especially when Bendy was happy to see Henry in cartoon's context.

Possibly the ink demon remembers Henry from cartoons? It may be the case but it's based on thin speculations; i won't claim that it's confirmed to be canon. Only time will tell.

5. The keepers/Wilson Arch

After Wilson has decided to enter the cycle and "tame" it, the ink demon becomes one of things he wants to deal with first and foremost.

The keepers, being Wilson's servants of sort, were tasked with capturing him. We don't get context on how exactly they've succeeded but we do have a couple of tapes from them:

" ...Be advised that sedation will not last long. Termination must commence immediately upon reception. Wilson will expect a detailed report of the creature's demise." (Keeper Log 13, Batdr)

Some time passes and they figure out that it's impossible to destroy him, so plans start to change. They decide to include tortures and surgical invasions to try to make him weaker:

"Keepers have administered quarter hourly sessions of physical tortures and surgical invasions to wear down his powers. All of these efforts have been ultimately unsuccessful. A new method of control must be devised" (Keeper Log 26, Batdr)

Which, obviously, fails to work. On their 44th experiments they were able to press him into toon bendy form, which has worked as a 'jail' of sorts:

"...He is smaller in size and harmless in this more timid state. His powers are also greatly reduced." (Keepers Log 44, batdr)

They also state that it was painful for him and under this pressure he has started to express emotions,like crying:

"...Using lengths of steel wire to cut into the side of his body, he now registers emotional responses. There were tears of ink documented. Screams of pain..." (Keepers Log 44, batdr)

Through the game the lost ones did wanted to believe that the ink demon has "died" but they knew that it's not true:

" He said that the ink demon is dead but i saw him. I really did"

Putting the ink demon into a smaller form and placing signal towers around is not equal to destroying him

It doesn't seems like this effect was permanent anyway; Betty says that the ink demon was at the North Wing some time ago, which seems to happen way before Audrey has entered the cycle

Wilson's plan didn't worked from the beginning, he simply delayed the issue that he had.

6. Audrey Drew

The ink demon knows who Audrey is (even before she or the player does), he says himself that ink speaks to him and has revealed everything that it knows about her:

"...The ink speaks to me. It whispers your secrets..."

"... This realm.. is mine. You were born from it... you belong to it."

They have strong narrative parallels through the whole game:

The ink demon was abandoned and forgotten. He's a cartoon mascot who's supposed to be profitable and if he isn't, he doesn't serve his purpose.

Audrey in contradictory was loved. She's human passing and wasn't put under the pressure that the ink demon has experienced.

6.1 The ink demon projects his feelings onto Audrey

The ink demon does understand that their situation is a bit similar, at the end of BATDR he projects on Audrey on purpose. She's the only one person who can (at least try to) understand the way he feels.

Based on that, they do have a lot of things in common:

One creator;

Audrey's relation to Joey is obvious, he created a daughter for himself and refers to her this way.

With the Ink demon it's Joey's presence after his creation, comments and intentions which makes them 'related'. The ink demon=Bendy and Joey saw toon Bendy as his child/"firstborn".

Failed daughters/Audreys were replaced until the perfect one, in similar way with the ink demon being replaced because he's imperfect;

Even if girls demises is not Joey's fault (we genuinely lack context), it's still interesting that it has happened.

It does makes Audrey's existence "a terrible lie" (as the ink demon says) because she doesn't know that it has happened

Their situation may make them feel lonely among others;

One of them is a tall demon among dead employees/more cartoonish characters and another is an artificial human among regular humans. Again, the ink demon's attempts to project on her make a lot of sense.

Other residents of the cycle were manipulated by higher-ups (or created to only exists in the cycle) but before that,they had normal life (or fake memories about it)

With these two, it never was "normal" for either of them, even if their experiences are highly different.

6.2 He's trying to be honest

I've brought it up in my post with Joey analysis but I'll mention it here too:

The ink demon doesn't lie

Him being an antagonist doesn't mean that he has to lie or that you can't trust him. Antagonists aren't always plain evil characters,they can be complex! In contradictory to Joey who's a huge liar,his creation isn't one.

Nothing he says is misleading, neither he intends it to be. He either tells truth directly or projects onto people.

At the moment Audrey is the only one character he has a couple of completely honest moments with:

"He's lying, Audrey..." (about Wilson)

"They promised us peace,but they bring us only more pain" (about Wilson and the Keepers)

He drops the act of sounding threating here and says it as calm as he can. He stops it only after she says "be quiet".

He was shut down when he wanted to do a genuinely good thing in a long time; after that,he won't say anything similar anymore.

7. DR Beast Bendy

The ink demon doesn't need someone's soul (whatever this concept means in canon) to transform, which is backed up by Batim; him wanting to become one with Audrey is not related to this.

The ink demon wants to feel perfect and loved, using Audrey for this (who had almost everything he didn't) is the closest thing to perfection he can do.

He became one with "Joey's greatest creation" only to feel perfect. He wants to "give her purpose" only because he feels like he doesn't has one.

It goes from a really sentimental place which has made this scene look cheesy or weird to some people; but we're talking about 'unlovable' character who was completely abandoned by people

I also doubt that he couldn't fight for control in his own body, resetting the cycle is something that he has accepted at the end of the day (even without wanting it to happen)

8. DR Toon Bendy

Personally I interpret him as one person, there's nothing in canon right now that says that it's Jekyll & Hyde situation.

He's still the ink demon but smaller and weaker,as thekeepers say in their logs. This form is designated as "toon bendy" but it was never said that they were able to create another personality.

After signal towers forced the ink demon into the 'toon' form,he simply walks away from Audrey. He knows that she wouldn't want to see him after that.

If they indeed were different personalities, toon Bendy would have no reason to do so; we know from Buddy Boris that two personalities in one body have different values and don't blame themselves for something another one did.

I don't think that his behaviour was "manipulative" or "pretendious",it feels as it misses the point of his character.

He acts the way people would expect toon Bendy to act, the way Joey expected him to be. He has the looks for it and he can get positive attention he never had before.

People loved Bendy in cartoons. Audrey was happy to see Bendy and wanted to spend time with him/protect him.

I see this as him playing the role that he could never fullfil before. As I've mentioned earlier, even when looking as himself he still has small moments of honesty/vulnerability.

9. The cycle

(based on personal speculations from BATDR)

"...Here, you'll find the meaning in your pain.

This voice line is one of my favourites, i also can see it as him projecting. Possibly he has tried to find the meaning for himself or for why everything has went the way it is.

The cycle is the only one thing that belongs to him, he takes control over it and has no one who'd command him (especially after Joey's death)

He's the most important entity in it and everyone are either scared or worship him.

I can see the cycle as something that also gives him sense of stability/"privileges" which would explain why he was against resetting it even after Wilson's influence.

Outside of this,he had no idea what Audrey would do to him after she'll leave the cycle; she doesn't communicate anything and he was left in the dark.

10. "The end"

"...You see, there's only one thing Bendy has never known: He was there for his beginning, but he's never seen... The End." (Joey Drew, batim ch 5)

I always liked that "the end" reel is his only one weakness. It makes perfect sense because Bendy's a cartoon character and JDS has closed without release of any "goodbye" episode.

But it also makes a lot of sense for ink demon's origins. He saw his beginning but he never got a happy ending.

Every loop ends with the ink demon looking at Henry's face and reaching to him before the reset; it continues in BATDR in similar way.

I've mentioned "The tombstone picnic" (1929) cartoon earlier and it feels like batim's ending was written by Joey this way on purpose.

One huge difference is that in cartoon Bendy was happy to see Henry but in the loop it's written off as a negative thing.

Henry is the one who brought "the end" to Bendy

Studio has started it's slow downfall right after Henry has left. He was way more important than Joey wanted to admit.

Joey has blamed Henry for almost everything,he likely blamed him for this too,so it makes sense why the cycle ends this way; it reflects what has happened in reality

TL;DR:

The ink demon didn't came out the way that was expected but he's still (obviously) is Bendy. After Joey has figured out that it's impossible to 'fix' him, he closes him in the cycle and puts into the role of the main antagonist.

The ink demon embraced this role and doesn't see himself more than a mistake and a monster (which he projects onto Audrey in DR)

~~~~~~~~

I'm always open to discussion if you've noticed that i missed or misinterpret something!

Thank you if you've read it to the end! I really appreciate that you've decided to spare some time for me

Also TY @cr33ping-cr34tv3r for inspiring me to finish it! :)

#batim #bendy and the ink machine #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #ink demon #bendy #bendy the dancing demon #joey drew #audrey drew #henry stein #wilson arch #my post

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tiny-wooden-robot-fics · 4 months ago

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Magnolia - Chapter One

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

Let me be loved for something, she prays to whomever or whatever might be listening. Let my last feeling be the one I've wanted for so long... to be needed, to be useful, to be happy in knowing I was finally doing something worthwhile.

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Attempted suicide, blood

Chapter One: Where Dreams Go to Die

The cold has never bothered her much.

Beaches were never her thing. While the people around her often looked forward to summertime with the goal of lounging in the sand and soaking up the warmth of the sun, she only ever wanted to hide from it.

The sun is too bright, too warm, too all-knowing and all-revealing.

She hates it.

She looks instead toward the colder seasons. Chilly nights, gray skies, short days. They somehow make her feel more alive than the long days full of sun and warmth.

Alive. She wants to chuckle at the thought.

The sky is gray now. Time sits on that thin precipice between sunset and night. Dusk, she remembers - it’s called dusk. But here in the middle of the woods, under the thick canopy of trees surrounding her, the dusk feels closer to night.

Her hands are visibly shaking as she looks down at what’s in them. For all that she has tried her best to talk herself into feeling numb about this, her nerves have still managed to betray her. Well, she thinks bitterly, the corners of her eyes burning with unwanted moisture, is it really an important moment if I don’t find some way to fuck it up?

She really would rather be numb.

Heaving a sigh, she sits right where she is. The dead leaves on the ground crunch under her bottom, disturbing the peace of the otherwise quiet forest. “To be useful,” she murmurs, her eyes on the slivers of sky she can see between the trees. “Will you let me become a part of you?” She ignores the trembling in her voice. “Will you let me do something useful for once in my life?”

Let me be loved for something, she prays to whomever or whatever might be listening. Let my last feeling be the one I’ve wanted for so long… to be needed, to be useful, to be happy in knowing I was finally doing something worthwhile.

She looks down at her hands again. The tremors have stopped. Steadily she shifts the blade from one hand to the other, doing what she’s set out to do. She isn’t numb to the pain, but she is finally numb to the feeling.

She lays back and smiles.

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing eyes I wonder if it weighs like Mine Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long Or did it just begin I could not tell the Date of Mine It feels so old a pain… -Emily Dickinson, I Measure Every Grief I Meet

There’s something different about the woods tonight.

It isn’t the sky. It sits above him the way it always does on early winter nights: dark and cold, the stars glittering yellow and white and reminding him of diamonds.

It isn’t the trees. He has been here long enough to know nearly all of them, to become familiar with their rattles and creaks and groans.

He can hear the sounds he’s used to: small animals rustling in the underbrush. The ones active during the day are settling down for the night, while the nocturnal ones are preparing to begin their day.

Ah. There it is - he can smell it now. It’s something he hasn’t smelled in a while, and the realization of what it is surprises him.

It is the scent of human blood.

He finds the source of the smell deep in the forest, far from where any other humans typically dare to venture. There’s a woman there, lying face up on the ground, surrounded by cold, dead leaves. Her eyes are closed, and while a smile turns the corners of her mouth upward, it is the trail of tears on her face that his gaze is drawn to.

She’s human, and she’s dying.

Geto Suguru has lived a very, very long time. He has spent much of that time around humans - close enough for him to learn nearly all there is to know about their nature. Close enough for him to become attuned to their thoughts and feelings, even if they keep those thoughts and feelings hidden.

He kneels down to get a closer look at the woman lying there. She isn’t dead yet, but it won’t be long before she gets there. He can see the blood pooling around her wrists, staining the leaves beneath them a dark red that looks almost black.

Her feelings are powerful enough that he doesn’t even have to concentrate to sense them all. There is pain there, and regret, and a lifetime of loneliness.

He knows that particular feeling well.

“This wasn’t what you wanted,” he sighs softly, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “You did it because you felt like there was no other way, didn’t you?”

At the sound of his voice, she stirs weakly but doesn’t open her eyes. “It’s ok,” she says, her voice faint and weak. He wonders if she realizes he is real, or if she thinks she’s hallucinating in her last moments. “No one will miss me.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s true,” Geto murmurs. He lifts her left wrist to his mouth, gently stopping the flow of blood and lapping up the excess before doing the same to her right wrist. “If you still want to go through with this when you wake, I’ll help you do it,” he tells her as he lifts her easily in his arms. “But it won’t be painful like this. You won’t be alone, and I’ll make sure you don’t feel the regret and loneliness and sadness you feel now.”

He cradles her close, reassured by the rise and fall of her chest - proof that she is still breathing, still alive.

“I promise.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Two: Coming Soon

(If you'd like to be added to a tag list for this or any of my other fics, please let me know.)

#tinywoodenrobotfics #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #Geto Suguru #Gojo Satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk smut #black oc

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theetherealbloom · 2 months ago

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 7 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Seven: I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack, Insecurities,

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Canonically, I know the Sand Snakes are in the Water Gardens, but I decided to go with what @forever-rogue did which is make ‘em stay at Hellholt. So shout out to her for being an incredible writer and one of the people who inspired me to gather my courage to write my own Oberyn fic. GO READ HER STUFF! Anyways, here we are, this is where I am literally in uncharted territories and have no script to go off from lmao. The next chapters of this fic are less conflict-focused and more romance-focused, and from here on out everything is almost canon-divergent hehe. It’s safe to expect that things will spice up from here! Lastly, I made the gif myself lmao. I’m lowkey proud of myself for that heheheh

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A FEW DAYS LATER...

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — NIGHT

The Red Keep’s halls felt different now, the tension from the trial lingering in the air like a suffocating cloud. You had been busy—preparing, strategizing, making sure every piece of the plan to take down Lord Tywin was in place. Yet, in the quiet moments between schemes, your mind drifted to Oberyn. You hadn’t seen him since you left that note by the ocean, but every day, you wondered if he still waited for you.

You step into the cool night air near the docks, the moonlight bathing everything in silver. The wine bottle feels heavy in your hand as you make your way to the familiar spot. And there he is, just as you hoped, standing by the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something—or someone.

“I brought wine.” Your voice breaks the silence, and Oberyn turns. His gaze locks onto you, and in that moment, you see it all—the pain, the confusion, the anger, and the relief. He had been waiting, even though he had every reason to walk away.

“You…” he begins, his voice rough as if words are failing him. “You’re here.” He takes a small step forward, the moonlight catching the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “How could you? You left me... Do you know how much I’ve—"

You interrupt him gently, your heart in your throat. “I’ve missed you.”

He stops, the burden of your words hanging between you. His voice cracks when he asks, “Then why did you leave me again?”

You take a step closer, the scent of the sea mixing with the faint spice of Dornish air. “Maybe... maybe it was out of love, not revenge.”

Oberyn’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he wipes at the tears staining his cheeks. “Love? You call it love when you disappear, when you leave me with nothing but ghosts to hold onto?”

His words slice through you, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I had to go. There’s something more important than just us. Tyrion… he needs me. And so do you. I wasn’t running away—I was preparing. We’re going to take down Lord Tywin.”

Oberyn’s eyes widen slightly, the mention of Tyrion and Tywin pulling him from his anger. “You’ve been planning with him… to destroy Tywin?”

You nod, stepping even closer now. “I’ve been preparing to help. To take down the man who’s done so much harm to both of us.”

He stares at you, the anger fading into something softer, something broken. “I haven’t been well,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “My revenge didn’t go as I planned. Nothing has.”

You take the final step, your bodies almost touching. “Then maybe you need a tutor,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “Would you like me to give you lessons… in revenge?”

Oberyn closes his eyes at your touch, his breath shaky as he leans into your hand. “And what will you teach me?”

You smile faintly, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from his. “I’ll be your headsman now. I’ll be your missing piece. Tell me… who do you want me to kill first?”

His eyes open, dark and full of something raw, something desperate. And then, without another word, he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fierce, hungry, and full of all the emotions he’s been holding back.

The bottle of wine slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

The Red Keep had become a hollow shell of what it once was. Tyrion was free, but you knew the fight was far from over. Tywin will soon be gone, and the balance of power will shift, but vengeance was still afoot—Tyrion’s sights are set on Cersei and those who had wronged him. A storm was brewing, and you had no place in it.

Standing by the window of your chambers, you looked out over the sprawling city. King’s Landing was a place of betrayal, lies, and the shadows of your past. There was no life for you here, not anymore. You had done what you came to do—the Mountain was dead, and the world was changing, but it wasn’t enough to erase the scars of what had been done to you.

The sun was warm on your face as you began to pack your things, carefully folding your clothes into a simple satchel. The room felt emptier now, as if it knew you wouldn’t be returning. The last few days had been a whirlwind of plans and goodbyes, but one task remained, one ghost that needed to be laid to rest before you left this cursed city.

Reaching into the drawer, your fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of a familiar dress. The one you wore the day Elia Martell was murdered. The day the Mountain had ravaged and destroyed her, leaving you burned and scarred as you tried to escape his cruelty. The sight of it brought a flood of memories that sent a sharp pain through your chest. You lifted the dress carefully, the fabric still stained with blood and soot.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging your eyes, the one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. The pain of that day still lingered like a specter. But as you examined the dress, you felt something crinkle inside. Frowning, you reached into a hidden pocket you had never noticed before. Your fingers closed around something small and fragile—a letter.

Confusion filled you. How had you never seen this? The fabric had been untouched for years. Carefully, you unfolded the parchment, your heart pounding as you saw the handwriting. Elia’s.

The ink had faded, but the words were still legible. They hit you like a dagger to the chest.

"My dearest friend,

If you find this, the worst has come. I beg you, do not stay in King’s Landing. Flee. Run far from Maegor’s Holdfast, away from the fighting, away from the horror that is to come. Go to Dorne, to my brothers, Oberyn and Doran. Tell them I love them, that I wished for a different end. I should have sent you sooner, but now you must go, for my sake. Please… live."

Your fingers trembled as you held the letter, your breath caught in your throat. Eighteen years. Eighteen long years, and all this time, this letter had been here, untouched. Elia had tried to save you, to send you to her brothers, to Dorne. Your chest tightened with grief and regret. If only you had found this sooner, maybe everything would have been different.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter to your chest, there was a soft knock at the door. You wiped your eyes quickly and stood as Oberyn entered the room.

His eyes immediately went to the letter in your hand. He stepped closer, his expression softening with concern. “What’s that?”

You handed it to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s from Elia.”

Oberyn’s brow furrowed as he took the letter, his gaze scanning the words. His expression hardened, a storm of emotions flashing in his eyes—grief, love, guilt. “She wanted you to go to Dorne,” he murmured. “She tried to protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I never found it. All these years, it was here, and I… I thought I had been abandoned. But Elia… she never forgot me.”

Oberyn exhaled, his jaw tightening as he folded the letter carefully. His voice was thick with emotion. “My sister loved you. She always spoke of you, even in her final days. If she had known what was coming, she would have done anything to save you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the significance of Elia’s words. “There was a time,” you whispered, “when I thought… ‘What if someone had tried to help me?’ Now I finally realize that there were good grown-ups around me, too. Friends, weather, and divine intervention, too. Now I know… she did.”

Oberyn’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “To Dorne. Come home with me. Meet my brother Doran, my daughters. Elia would’ve wanted you to see Dorne for all its beauty, for all it has to offer.”

Your heart ached at his words. Dorne had always been a place of legend in your mind, a distant dream. But now, with Oberyn standing before you, offering you the chance to finally belong, to heal, it felt like a promise of something new.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Do you really think… Elia would’ve wanted me there?”

Oberyn smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I know she would. She always said you belonged in Dorne. She wanted you to be safe, to be loved. Let me show you the home she wanted for you.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — LATER

The streets of King’s Landing were buzzing with whispers, like restless birds flocking above the ashes of a great fire. The once-powerful Lannister name now seemed vulnerable, as enemies crept from the shadows, eager to seize their chance.

You walked through the Red Keep for what would be the last time, your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. This place had never felt like home. It had always been a battlefield, not only in the physical sense but also in the games of politics and survival. You had played your part, avenging the wrongs that haunted your past. The poison Oberyn had carefully crafted for Lord Tywin will take effect soon. There was nothing left for you here. Still, there were those you needed to say goodbye to.

Your first stop was the docks. The salty breeze off Blackwater Bay tugged at your hair as you approached Serena, your faithful friend. She stood by the ship that would take her to Braavos, her belongings already packed and loaded onto the vessel.

When she saw you, her face softened, and she opened her arms. Without a word, you embraced her, the warmth of her body grounding you for a moment in the chaos of the day.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “For everything. You’ve been my strength through all of this.”

Serena smiled, pulling back slightly to look at you. Her eyes, filled with wisdom and compassion, glistened under the light of the setting sun. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough, more than enough. It’s time for you to find your own peace now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing that her words were true, but still, the thought of leaving her behind stung. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” you said softly, your voice breaking just a little.

She placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “And I’ll never forget you, my friend. Now go, before I start crying and embarrass myself.”

You both laughed softly, but the sadness lingered as you stepped back, giving her one last look before you left her there.

Your next farewell came in the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. It was a place where you'd experienced both the highest stakes and the deepest betrayals, and now you were ready to sever your ties. You passed through the halls, not lingering any longer than necessary, your thoughts already drifting far away from this pit of liars.

First, you came across Tyrion, who was standing with a small, satisfied smile on his face despite everything. His recent freedom hadn’t come without cost, but his fight was far from over. He would carry on, and you respected that.

When he noticed you, his smile faltered, turning thoughtful as he stepped closer. “I owe you my life,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “Not many would have risked what you did.”

You offered him a small, bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t for you, Tyrion. But I’m glad you’re free. You deserve better than this place.”

Tyrion’s eyes softened with understanding. “And you deserve peace, wherever you find it.”

You nodded, knowing you would never forget the strange bond you had formed with him in these dark times. “Goodbye, Tyrion. May your revenge taste sweeter than mine.”

With that, you turned away, leaving behind the one Lannister you could stomach. But there was still one more encounter you couldn’t avoid.

---

Jaime Lannister was waiting, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he leaned against the stone wall, his gaze distant as he stared out over the courtyard. You approached him, your steps measured, your face set in a cool, unreadable expression.

When he noticed you, Jaime stood straighter, his eyes flicking to yours. There was no warmth between you, only an understanding born from the knowledge of who you both were—survivors of a cruel world, playing your roles as best you could.

“I never liked you,” you said bluntly, not bothering to soften your words. “You aren’t a good man, but you never pretended to be. I can respect that.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something like amusement passing over his features. “And here I thought we were going to end things on a high note.”

You smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “You care for your family. That much I understand. But don’t mistake that for forgiveness.”

Jaime’s face darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded once, a quiet acceptance of your judgment. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Only survival.”

With that, you turned on your heel and left the Red Keep behind, feeling the weight of years of pain and bitterness slowly begin to lift from your shoulders as the doors closed behind you.

DORNE — DAY

The journey to Dorne was unlike anything you had imagined. As the landscape changed from the cold, rigid greys of King’s Landing to the warmth of Dorne, it felt as if the world itself was breathing for the first time. The golden sun bathed the rolling hills, turning the sand into rivers of light. Every breath you took felt lighter, cleaner, as if the air here was different. It smelled of spices and sea salt, a stark contrast to the rot and soot of the capital. The vibrant hues of the desert, the deep oranges and reds, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Oberyn rode beside you, silent but ever-present. His gaze lingered on you, watching as you took in the beauty of his homeland. There was an unspoken understanding between you. He had given you the space to process this new world, but you could feel his desire to share it with you.

When the sun began its descent, casting the sky in fiery shades of red and gold, he finally broke the silence. “This is your home now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that mirrored the setting sun. “Elia would have wanted this for you—for you to find peace, to live freely.”

His words hit you with a force you hadn’t expected. The weight of everything you’d left behind—the pain, the anger, the scars—began to lift, if only just a little. You looked out at the expanse of land before you, the endless stretch of desert that seemed to go on forever, and felt tears prick your eyes. “It’s… beautiful,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t believe I waited so long to come here.”

Oberyn reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch grounding you. “You’re here now,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “That’s what matters.”

As you reached Hellholt, Ellaria’s ancestral home, the grandeur of the sandstone fortress took your breath away. The open courtyard buzzed with life as her daughters ran about, their laughter filling the air like music. You could see how much they took after their mother, fierce and unyielding, yet full of life.

Ellaria greeted you with a quiet smile, her arms wrapping around you in a hug that felt softer than you expected. The tension between you two still lingered, the unspoken feelings surrounding Oberyn’s love for you hanging heavy in the air, but there was something close to peace in her embrace.

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?” she asked, her voice low and serious as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto yours. “Oberyn means well, but sometimes… he needs someone to steady him.”

You gave her a nod, offering a reassuring smile. “I will. And we’ll visit when we can.”

Ellaria stepped back to her daughters, but not without one last glance at you—an acknowledgment that perhaps, in time, the strangeness between you two might fade. Oberyn, watching from a distance, caught your eye and smiled, pride and affection shining in his gaze.

The next morning, you and Oberyn departed Hellholt, the sound of Ellaria’s daughters’ laughter fading as you rode further into Dorne’s heart. The heat of the day settled into your skin, and as the sun rose higher, Oberyn kept you close, ensuring you were comfortable, taking every opportunity to steal a kiss or brush his fingers along your arm.

DORNE, SUNSPEAR — DAY

When you finally arrived in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, it was as though you had entered a dream. The towering spires of the palace loomed in the distance, and the city itself was bustling with life—merchants, nobles, and commoners alike filling the streets with vibrant colors and spirited conversations. The air was filled with the scent of oranges and spices, carried on the wind from the sea.

Oberyn stopped his horse and looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you against the backdrop of his homeland. “We’re home,” he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You turned to him, your heart swelling. There was something about the way he said it that made everything feel right. Home. This place—Dorne—had always been where you were meant to be, even if it had taken years to find your way here.

Oberyn dismounted and came to your side, helping you down. As your feet touched the warm sand, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Elia would have wanted you to see this,” he whispered. “To be part of this life. She always believed Dorne had a way of healing the soul.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, the love in his gaze overwhelming. “I wish she could be here,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

Oberyn smiled, though there was a sadness in it. “She is. In every sunset, in every breeze, Elia is here.”

Oberyn gathered you in his arms, “She loved you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I love you. You belong here—with me.”

The two of you stood there, the sun setting over the sea, casting long shadows over the sand. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Home.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — NOON

The gates of Sunspear opened before you, and the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking. The Water Gardens, the beloved retreat of House Martell, stretched out in all directions, a vision of tranquility and beauty. Lush greenery surrounded shimmering pools of water, each reflecting the clear blue sky above. The gardens were dotted with fountains, their soft trickling filling the air with a soothing melody. Vibrant flowers, rich in color, bloomed along the pathways, their petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a stark contrast to the harsh, grey stone of King’s Landing, and you couldn’t help but pause, your breath catching in your throat as you took it all in. None of these walls are stained by hatred. How strange this all is.

Life, which had once felt so rigid and colorless, suddenly seemed full of possibility. The villas, painted in shades of orange, red, and gold, stood proudly against the sunlit sky, their terracotta roofs blending with the desert landscape. Everything felt so alive, bursting with color. The black-and-white certainty that had governed your thoughts for so long seemed to dissolve under the warmth of the Dornish sun.

The servants welcomed you and Oberyn with gracious bows and smiles. You felt a bit stiff, your body hesitant and unsure in the face of such warmth. You weren’t used to this—being at the center of attention. The greetings felt too much, the eyes on you too kind, and your fingers twitched nervously at your sides as you forced a small smile. The heat, blistering and unrelenting, pressed against your skin, a far cry from the cooler climate of the North. You tugged at the sleeves of your long gown, grateful for the cover. The thought of your scars made your stomach turn. It wasn’t your discomfort you feared, but their own. You weren’t ready to expose that part of yourself, not yet.

Oberyn seemed to sense your unease. He reached for your hand as he led you through the gardens toward the palace. “Dorne welcomes you,” he said softly, his voice a balm to your nerves. “There is no need for hesitation here. You are among friends.”

Ahead, on a shaded terrace overlooking the Water Gardens, Prince Doran awaited you. He sat in a grand chair, his posture regal despite the illness that clearly weighed on him. Beside him stood Areo Hotah, his loyal captain, ever watchful with his towering figure and unyielding gaze.

Oberyn introduced you, his voice full of pride as he presented you to his elder brother. “This is the one I spoke of,” Oberyn said, his eyes flicking to you with a tender smile. “She has traveled far to be here, and Dorne will be better for her presence.”

You stepped forward, ready to bow in respect, but Oberyn’s hand shot out, gently stopping you. “We don’t bow in Dorne,” he whispered with a chuckle, leaning in close. “Not unless you want to draw more attention to yourself.”

Your face heated up immediately, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Oh,” you murmured softly, feeling the eyes of both princes on you.

Prince Doran, however, only smiled warmly. “No need to worry,” he said kindly, his voice gentle despite the weariness in it. “We are not as formal as they are in the North. How was your journey?”

You composed yourself, offering a small, grateful smile. “The journey went well, Your Grace. Thank you for allowing me to come to Dorne… I only hope to be of use. I can work—”

“No,” Doran interrupted softly but firmly, shaking his head. “You have been through more than anyone should. You will not serve us. For the rest of your days, you will be treated with the respect you deserve. You will live here, in the palace, as one of our own.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but there was a heaviness that lingered in your chest. The kindness overwhelmed you. It felt like too much, like you didn’t deserve it. You glanced at Oberyn, who gave you a reassuring nod, his hand brushing against your arm in silent support.

You mustered a sad smile, trying to push away the guilt. “Thank you, Your Grace. Princess Elia… she was always so kind to me. I remember her laughter, her warmth… she made everything brighter, even when the world was falling apart.” The memory of Elia’s voice rang in your ears, and your chest tightened.

Doran’s eyes filled with unshed tears at the mention of his sister, and his voice trembled as he replied, “Thank you for remembering her.” He took a breath, blinking back his sorrow. “It is a gift that you survived.”

The guilt washed over you again, an unwelcome tide. Survived. Sometimes you wondered why you had been spared when so many others had fallen. But there was no room for that thought now—not here.

Doran’s voice, steady once more, broke the silence. “We will provide you with everything you need—clothing, food, whatever it is. I’m sure the Northern attire will be quite stifling in our heat.”

You nodded, uncertain. The thought of changing into Dornish clothing, so light and revealing compared to what you were used to, made you uneasy. You would have to speak to Oberyn about it later, perhaps when you were alone, away from the formalities of the palace.

Just then, a woman approached you, bowing slightly. “I am your lady-in-waiting, my lady,” she said with a smile. “My name is Mirra.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, still adjusting to the sudden rush of new faces and titles. Before you could say anything, Oberyn turned to you, his grin full of mischief. “I have some matters to discuss with my brother,” he said, his hand slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. “But do not worry. I will make sure to join you for dinner later.” His eyes gleamed with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—right there, in front of Doran and Areo Hotah.

The warmth of his lips, the unexpected display of affection, left you completely caught off guard. Your body heated from head to toe, your thoughts spinning. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the ease with which he did it, without a care for who was watching. You caught your breath as he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at your stunned reaction.

Doran merely chuckled softly from his chair, while you stood frozen in place, your heart racing. As Oberyn walked away, you realized one thing with absolute certainty: life in Dorne would be unlike anything you had ever known.

Mirra led you through the winding halls of the palace, her steps light and graceful, as if she had walked these paths her entire life. When she stopped before a large wooden door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in your chest. With a quiet smile, she pushed it open, revealing the grand quarters that would now be yours.

The room was breathtaking. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The bedroom was vast, far larger than anything you’d ever had before. A massive bed, draped in fine silks and adorned with pillows, took up the center of the room, its grand frame intricately carved with symbols of the sun and moon. The sheets were a deep, luxurious red, and you could already imagine how soft they would feel against your skin.

The walls were lined with vibrant tapestries, each telling stories of Dorne’s rich history, and the floor was covered in plush rugs that felt like clouds underfoot. A small table stood by the window, and on it, a pitcher of cool water with fresh fruit beside it, waiting for your return from the heat. Everything about this room spoke of comfort, of care, and luxury—things that had once felt so distant to you.

Mirra gestured toward a small chest at the foot of the bed. “They’ll bring your belongings soon, but for now, these were laid out for you.” She approached the chest and opened it, revealing several beautiful dresses, each more exquisite than the last. “Prince Oberyn thought you might like them. They’re light, perfect for our weather here in Dorne.”

You approached the chest cautiously, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dresses. They were stunning—light, flowing pieces with intricate embroidery. Each was adorned with suns, crafted in gold thread that shimmered in the light. The colors were bold—reds, oranges, deep purples—celebrating the warmth of the Dornish sun. But as you lifted one of the gowns, your heart skipped. They were sleeveless, with daring necklines, designed to expose more skin than you were comfortable with.

You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric, feeling its softness. The dresses were stunning, yet the thought of wearing something so revealing made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the scars—they didn’t bother you, nor did the thought of people looking or asking questions. Those wounds had healed long ago, and their marks no longer held power over you. But here, in this new world of sun and beauty, the weight of something else pressed down on you.

It was the fear of embarrassing Oberyn. Standing beside him, so strong and proud, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, you might not belong here.

But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after Oberyn had gone out of his way to choose something for you. You swallowed your discomfort, forcing a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

Mirra watched you carefully, her kind eyes noticing your hesitation. “Prince Oberyn mentioned you two would be sharing these quarters,” she said gently, her voice soft. “But he also said that if you’re uncomfortable, he’d be more than khappy to stay in another room.”

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze. Sharing a room with Oberyn? The idea made your mind race. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of intimacy, not yet. The thought of sharing such close quarters with him both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not after everything you’d both been through. Not after all the kindness he’d shown you.

“It’s… fine,” you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

Mirra nodded with understanding, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I’ll have a bath drawn for you,” she said, moving toward the door. “I imagine the journey was rough. I’ll return shortly to fetch you.”

Left alone, you wandered to the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens. The doors were already open, and as you stepped out, the warmth of the afternoon sun kissed your skin. The view before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The sprawling gardens stretched out below, filled with vibrant colors of the season. In the distance, you could see the faint outline of Sunspear’s city walls, the rooftops glistening in the sun.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with hues of pink, orange, and gold. The colors blended together, washing over the landscape in a way that made everything feel serene, almost otherworldly. For the first time in what felt like years, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, the tension in your shoulders melting away under the warmth of the sun.

Standing there, feeling the soft breeze caress your skin, you closed your eyes and let the moment envelop you. The weight of your past, the pain, and the fear—it was still there, lurking in the corners of your mind. But here, in this moment, it felt distant. You’re no longer there anymore, you told yourself, the words settling over your heart like a protective shield. No matter how much they’ve tried to break you, you’ve survived. You’re not scared of them anymore.

A sense of peace washed over you as you stood on the balcony, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. For the first time in years, it felt like time was moving forward. You were no longer bound to the memories that once weighed you down, no longer trapped in the shadows of what had been. Here in Dorne, with Oberyn by your side, things felt different. You felt different. The world was no longer just black and white—it was bursting with color, vibrant and alive, and you were beginning to learn how to embrace it.

The quiet knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Mirra stepped in, her soft smile welcoming as she said, "My lady, your bath is ready."

You nodded, following her through the grand room. The air was warm, scented with lavender and the faint salt of the sea, and as you stepped into the adjoining bath chamber, you couldn’t help but admire the elegance of it all. The tub was large, carved from marble, with steam rising gently from the water.

Mirra moved to help you undress, her hands reaching for the ties of your gown. But as her fingers brushed your back, you froze, the sudden contact pulling you from the moment.

“No,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm. “I can take it from here.”

Mirra hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “My lady?”

You offered her a small smile, your hand resting on hers to ease the tension. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

Her gaze lingered on you, a hint of concern in her eyes, but after a moment, she nodded, stepping back with a respectful bow. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once she was gone, you stood for a moment, the room quiet except for the soft lapping of the water in the tub. Slowly, you undressed yourself, feeling the warmth of the bath beckoning you. When you finally stepped in, the water enveloped you, soothing every ache from the long journey.

You sank deeper into the bath, closing your eyes and letting the warmth relax your body. Here, alone, the weight of the world felt lighter. The tension you had carried for so long began to melt away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to simply be.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — EVENING

The evening air was warm as you stepped onto the terrace of the Water Gardens, the scent of citrus trees and the distant sound of trickling water surrounding you. Lanterns, hung delicately along the stone pillars, cast a soft glow over the long table where a simple yet elegant feast was laid out. The sky above was painted in soft shades of twilight, a backdrop of deep purples and golds that felt as if it had been created just for this moment.

Your dress—a light, flowing piece with intricate suns embroidered along the edges—shifted with the breeze, reminding you of the delicate balance between feeling exposed and free. You hadn’t quite made peace with showing so much skin, but here in Dorne, no one seemed to care about scars or imperfections. And for once, it was your own hesitation, not the eyes of others, that left you feeling vulnerable.

Oberyn was already there, seated at the head of the table, his eyes finding yours the moment you appeared. A soft smile tugged at his lips, warmth radiating from him in a way that set you at ease. He rose to greet you, his presence commanding yet intimate, making the vast expanse of the terrace feel smaller, more personal.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of charm and sincerity. He reached for your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Though I’m certain the gardens pale in comparison.”

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. “I’m not sure I can compete with all this,” you gestured to the beauty surrounding you—the elegant table, the vibrant colors of the Water Gardens, the night sky overhead. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pulled out a chair for you. “Then let’s make sure the dream is one you never want to wake from.”

As you sat, servants moved gracefully around you, pouring wine into delicate goblets and laying out platters of fruit, roasted meats, and bread still warm from the oven. You shifted in your seat, trying to absorb the sudden attention, feeling a little out of place despite Oberyn’s calming presence.

“Are you always treated like this?” you asked, glancing at him as one servant filled your cup.

“Only when I’m fortunate enough to be dining with such company,” Oberyn replied, his tone teasing. “Though I have a feeling you’ll soon grow used to the luxuries of Dorne.”

You smiled but couldn’t shake the underlying tension. “I’m not sure I ever will.”

Oberyn leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours. “You don’t have to fit into any mold here. You’re not in King’s Landing anymore. You’re in Dorne, where people live as they are—unapologetically.”

There was something in his gaze that felt reassuring, a reminder that here, with him, you were free from the constraints of the past. You exhaled, the weight of the day lifting slightly from your shoulders.

The conversation between you and Oberyn flowed easily as the evening stretched on. The food was rich, the wine sweeter than anything you’d had in King’s Landing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, the simplicity of being in Oberyn’s company felt like the real gift. He spoke of Dorne with pride, recounting stories of its history, its people, and the beauty that stretched beyond the Water Gardens to the deserts and mountains.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his hand resting over yours, “I’ll take you to Sunspear. There is more for you to see, more than even the Water Gardens can offer.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with anticipation. “I look forward to it.”

As the night grew darker, and the lanterns flickered softly in the breeze, Oberyn leaned closer. “And tonight,” he whispered, “I’m just glad we’re finally here. Together.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you at his words. No matter the uncertainty of what lay ahead, tonight felt like the start of something new—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined, just lived.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — LATE NIGHT

The walk to your chambers felt surreal, the weight of the evening's intimacy lingering in the air between you and Oberyn. The stars above cast a silver glow on the winding paths of the Water Gardens, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. Each step brought you closer to the privacy of your shared quarters, and with it, the quiet flutter of nerves began to stir in your stomach.

You’d been in his presence for hours now, sharing a meal, stories, and laughter, yet the intimacy of entering a room together felt like crossing an invisible threshold. This was the moment where things might shift, where you couldn’t help but wonder if something was expected tonight.

As Oberyn opened the door to your chambers, the room beyond was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. A massive bed with heavy, luxurious fabrics dominated the space, framed by stone walls adorned with intricate Dornish tapestries. The soft light of candles flickered across the room, casting warm, golden hues over everything. It was beautiful, intimate, a room meant for lovers.

Your heart raced as you stepped inside, your thoughts swirling as you tried to steady yourself. Oberyn, sensing your hesitation, moved behind you, his presence a steadying force. His fingers brushed your arm gently, grounding you in the moment.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting.

You turned to face him, biting your lip as your gaze met his. “It’s just... I know you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I don’t want to... disappoint you.”

Oberyn’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression softened. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Disappoint me?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “Do you truly believe that?”

You shrugged, feeling a little foolish now, but the thought had gnawed at you since the moment you’d entered the room. “You’ve always been... free. With others. I just—what if I’m not ready tonight? Will you... find your needs somewhere else?”

A small smile curved his lips, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “I won’t lie to you,” he began, his voice a murmur, “I’ve lived my life enjoying pleasure wherever it could be found. But you...” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “With you, I am content to wait. Because when it happens, it will be passionate, raw, and it will be worth every second of restraint.”

His words were like a soothing balm to your nerves, each one sinking into you, wrapping around your fears and quieting them. There was no pressure, no expectation—only the promise of something real, something deeper than just the physical.

“I don’t want you to do anything until you’re ready,” he continued, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “Your consent is more important to me than anything. And if tonight is just us, here in this bed, holding each other, that is more than enough.”

You exhaled, a wave of relief washing over you. “I’ve never been with anyone like you,” you confessed quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oberyn chuckled softly, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close. “That’s because there is no one like me,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and soft against your skin, and you leaned into him, feeling the tension leave your body.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “But I promise you this—no matter how long it takes, no matter when you’re ready, I will wait for you. And when that moment comes, it will be ours.”

His sincerity left you breathless. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. Oberyn responded instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. His hand cradled the back of your head, deepening the kiss just enough to remind you of the passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior, but never pushing, never demanding more than what you offered.

You pulled back, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. “There is no need to thank me,” he murmured against your lips. “I told you, you’re in Dorne now. We take our time with everything worth savoring.”

A warmth bloomed inside you, a sense of peace and safety in his arms. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Oberyn whispered, guiding you toward the bed. He pulled back the heavy covers, and you slipped beneath them, the cool fabric against your skin a welcome contrast to the heat that still lingered between you. He joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your back was pressed to his chest, his body a comforting shield around you.

The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was the sound of Oberyn’s steady breathing and the warmth of his lips as he pressed one final kiss to your shoulder.

There's nothing that needs to happen tonight. You were exactly where you were meant to be.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x fem!reader #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn nymeros martell #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #got rewrite #got #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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pinacoladaz · 3 months ago

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Sukuna x gn reader

⚠️ My native language is not English so please excuse me if there are any mistakes.

Minors you can read this, it's an au without sorcery.

No warnings; Tags: idk, fluff? humour? i just hope you like it :vvv

Ty for reposting❕

You wouldn't say that Sukuna is addicted to silly little ass shooting video games because, even though he sometimes prioritizes gaming over things as important as some college responsibility, eating dinner, or just paying attention to you while you talk to him about the water debt, there is a key word; sometimes.

That doesn't mean it's not annoying.

He does it rarely, but when he does he puts a silly dedication into it that makes your eye twitch, you've never been much of a video game player so you assume you just don't understand it.

After shaking his head in nuisance at your complaint about his obvious lack of attention and vague nods, he let his friends know on the call that he would be afk for a few moments. Ignoring their insults and screams, he takes off his headphones to reluctantly walk towards you and grab you by the arm to drag you out of his room, slamming the door in your face without even bothering to look at you.

You already considered it a ritual between you two.

Curiosity ate away at you until you got to the point of buying a PC setup on which you only downloaded Roblox, and oh you really loved that little game, dress to impress.

Sukuna had gone out with his friends to watch car races, they did it every Saturday and he always came home late, so you always bought pizza on saturdays.

However that day you ran out of time because you were on your game, you didn't even hear the door, you were only aware of Sukuna's presence when he asked in a voice a little too loud "y/n, where's the pizza?" looking for it in the kitchen, opening and closing the drawers because oh yes, he was noisy asf, he always communicated through shouts around the apartment.

You chose a hat as you frowned in concentration. "Well i don't know, buy yourself one?" you shrug even though he can't see you "fucking spoiled" you muttered glancing at the time, it had gotten late without you noticing and you forgot to buy it.

You keep playing concentrated until Sukuna suddenly opens the door without knocking. "Did you seriously not leave me any pizza." his voice it's neutral but sounds a little offended.

You leave the game running and turn the chair to look at him, hunched over with your legs over it. He has a neutral face and his hand is still on the doorknob, barely fitting into the doorway.

"I haven't even eaten yet-" i respond calmly, but he interrupts "that's my fucking sweater" he's looking at his black garment on your body with a frown, then he shakes his head and look at your eyes again without removing his frown "and why the fuck you haven't had dinner yet? it's 11 at night" he focuses "if you want to starve, go with the homeless junkie people; today i was passing by and one offered me pills like damn he looked like shit, he really reminded me of y-"

"Girl shut up, go cook yourself something or go back for that delicious pills" you interrupt his stupid story with insult purposes and turn your chair to the screen again "and if the sweater is not in your room it is ours" you murmur hurrying in dressing the character before the time limit.

In the middle of a moment of silence in which you think Sukuna is gone, you concentrate on the game again, but you are exhilarated when you feel that the chair is suddenly pulled back making you lower your feet to the floor and let go of the mouse, to do that Sukuna put his hand on the back, also pulling your hair a little to which you let out a yell of complaint but to no one's surprise he ignores you, looking critically at the screen

"No way, is that the shit you haven't had dinner for? God look at that color palette." He stands in front of you and when you think he's going to tilt the chair to throw you to the floor, he simply sits on your legs as if you were part of the chair, completely ignoring you and approaching the desk again, letting all his weight fall on you, and he is not very light.

You smack him on the back "Hello?? just for once i want to get some normal behavior out of you! you weigh like a co-"

"Girl shut up" he repeats what he learns from you and leans his back against you for a while, silencing your complaints, oppressing your rights. There comes a point where you stop resisting and stay still, pinching his arm from time to time and getting no reaction at all.

He gets up and leaves to the door when the voting ends, he changed the whole character but... you won! surprisingly.

"Hell wait you actually have a sense of fashion!" you turn your chair to look at him amused, but you find his back facing you, walking away "And you don't" He raises his hand to show middle finger at you, disappearing from your sight. You noticed that in the process he flexed his bicep so you roll your eyes. Rude smug.

"You have to learn real games y/n, i'll teach you!" he talks from the kitchen, suddenly optimistic, starting to move the drawers "choose before i regret this, brat, pancakes or pasta...!"

You look at Sukuna in silence, he made you dinner and he is eating it intently.

You thought that as always, he would buy the food, In fact you didn't even think about it because in your mind it is already a fact that your deep subconscious knows: Sukuna doesn't cook, you've never seen him do it.

There is a first time for everything.

What a surprise when the house started to smell like food, and what a bigger surprise when you saw Sukuna cooking as if it were something he was used to.

Since he made the table, you haven't touched your food waiting for him to say something to your quiet behavior; finally, after a while, he stops his devouring of the pasta and with sauce around his mouth he stops the fork that goes to his mouth, staying still. You both look at each other in silence.

...

"I swear i washed my hands."

You make a disgusted face at that, taking a moment to react "The hell...? no it's not that"

He puts down his fork and takes a napkin to wipe himself, sighing. "So what else do you want from me? for me to give it to you in your mouth? please you gotta be—"

"Why did you just cook something?" you ask freaked out, interrupting him. He looks at you without understanding.

"Lol? what am i supposed to interpret from that."

"Just leave it Sukuna people don't say Lol in real life, and how come you know how to cook and it smells and looks good?"

Again he stands still looking between your two eyes, then eats and talks to you with his mouth full. "I've cooked you pasta once or twice. Asshole"

"Don't talk with the mouth full and wow" I look at the pasta again "yes I remember the other times I have eaten it, i used to think you were buying it"

He keeps eating, ignoring you. You also eat happily now, enjoying every bite. The times he prepared it he probably did it while you were sleeping you think.

"How did you learn?" Now you also speak with your mouth full.

He swallowed "Don't talk with your mouth full. Yuji taught me"

I ignore his use of my phrase against me "Yuji?"

He hesitates for a moment, looking at you suspiciously, but then nods. "That stupid roblox game? i used to play it with him" He talks like it's no big deal, but you know how much he loves his younger brother, who is studying a semester of biology away in Malaysia.

"Oh." You smile.

You won't even tease him about that one.

Noticing your thoughtful smile and the emotional atmosphere that entered the room, Sukuna points at you with his fork to scare that away "People do say Lol in real life. Being a social outcast starts to cloud your perception of the world"

#jjk x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk #i plan to do a part two #have a nice day

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blue-slxt · 1 year ago

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Our Song Cord: What About The Way We Kiss The Same?

(Chapter 3)

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Welcome to the filth lol. I don't really have a whole lot to say about this chapter. It's just smut lol. I hope you enjoy! Every chapter title is a song reference so if you know the song, you get a cookie. I really really appreciate feedback so comments and reblogs are heavily encouraged. All characters are aged up.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part | Next Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Smut, Heat Cycle, Masturbation, Oral (M receiving), P in V, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Knotting, I think that's it

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Your heat proves to be more than you're able to handle on your own. So you turn to the only person you can.

You get little to no sleep through your night. You’ve long abandoned your loincloth seeing as how you soaked through it hours ago. And now you have a huge wet spot on your sleep mat right under you. You’ve had short periods of reprieve where you took the chance to eat your utumauti and rest your eyes for as long as your body will allow. The herbs you got from Kiri aren’t working like they normally do. They usually let you get a couple of hours between the waves of desire, but now you’re lucky to get even one solid hour without needing to bury your fingers inside of yourself again. It’s so much worse this time and the intensity is only growing with the passing hours.

Before you know it, the whole day has dragged by in a hazy blur. The only thing you’re able to fully process is the deep, ravenous hunger inside of you that wants to rip through your body. It’s getting painful. You need something, anything to take away this agony. Your mind isn’t thinking clearly and you know that, yet, you can’t do anything to stop the ideas that start to seep in like a thick fog. It’s about dinner time and the whole clan should be gathered to start eating. You manage to pull on a new loincloth and weakly walk yourself out of your home.

You do your best to fly under the radar which is difficult with your pheromones assaulting the senses of every male Na’vi you pass. You decide it’s best to go through the trees to stay on the edge of the crowds. You climb up and cautiously jump from branch to branch moving in the same direction as the groups of people. When you reach the spot where everyone is gathered for dinner, you search and scan for Neteyam. You finally catch sight of him talking with Kiri, Lo’ak, and Layao. His arm is resting comfortably around her waist and his hand is sitting on her hip. It makes your body burn, but not in the good way.

You need to get his attention without attracting too much attention to yourself. If you get too close, everyone will smell you. But you can’t call out to him either. You have to think quick, time is ticking on your hormone clock. An idea pops in your mind, your signal. You and Neteyam would imitate an animal call to signal to each other when you needed to be discreet. It comes in handy when hunting or on missions. You cup your hands around your mouth and let off a high-pitched chirp in his direction. No one else even blinks brushing it off as a creature in the night, but Neteyam notices it. You can see how his eyes search around for the source of the call. While he’s scanning, you do it one more time and he finally starts looking up. His brows furrow together when he spots you. He doesn’t know why you’re hiding or why you needed to use your signal to get his attention, but he knows it must be something important.

You wave your hands and point in the direction behind you towards the shack hoping that he understands your message. He confirms by nodding his head one solid time at you and then he watches you disappear off into the trees. Neteyam politely excuses himself away from the group. He uses the excuse of forgetting that he was supposed to survey a part of the forest where a tip came in about some sky people. He reassured them that he’d be back soon and takes his leave. It was a believable enough excuse that no one questioned him about it and he was able to sneak away to come meet you by the shack.

Somehow through your lusty haze, you find your way to the old shack and nervously pace back and forth waiting for Neteyam to reach you. This is crazy. There’s no way he’ll agree to something like this. But then again, I mean, this is where this was always leading, isn’t it? Isn’t this just the natural progression of things? But he might reject you because of your heat. But now that you realize how you really feel about Neteyam, you don’t want it to be anyone else but him. All of these thoughts swirl around your head so much that they distract you from the sound of a twig snapping under the weight of an approaching Neteyam.

“Are you ok—” he cuts his own thought short as he gets closer and he smells the air around you. It smells like sweet sap from trees and exotic flowers. The smell tickles the back of his head and sends a shiver down his spine. And he realizes, “Your heat is here…”

You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other hoping to try and create some kind of friction between your thighs and only offer him a nod as a response.

“Well, why aren’t you at home right now? Aren’t you supposed to be riding it out?” his face and voice are full of concern. For whatever reason that you won’t attempt to make sense of right now, that fact makes you hot.

“I—I can’t, Teyam. It’s so much worse this time. None of my usual stuff is working. I need your help. Please.”

“But, what am I supposed to do?” A pause as the question hangs between you while you wait for him to catch on. “I need you to help me, Teyam. Please.”

His face flushes and his ears stand straight up finally clicking it into place what you were asking for. “O-Oh…”

Seeing his face now, you’re starting to regret this decision. Your eyes start to dart around feeling very insecure. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I just figured that this was kind of where this whole thing was heading anyways. And I know that your ceremony is approaching so I kind of just figured the timing works out. But maybe this was silly. I just didn’t know who else to turn to and—” A pair of big hands on your face break your train of thought as your eyes find Neteyam’s. There’s a long moment where he just holds your gaze. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip trying to add some kind of moisture back to your mouth that suddenly feels very dry. It’s probably because you didn’t even realize that you were panting at this point. Chills run through your veins as he stares at you. He finally leans in to kiss you and your body feels the first real wave of relief you’ve felt this whole time. It’s short lived though when he pulls away from you and your lips try to chase his to hold on the feeling. When your eyes flutter open to look at him, there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t fully comprehend its’ meaning right now, but none of that matters when he says, “I’ll do it.”

You could cry from happiness at his answer. You throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. “Thank you, Teyam. You really are the best there is.” And with that, you let your senses dissipate down to your bare bone, carnal instincts. Neteyam does his best to not show how flustered he actually feels. Especially once you start just subconsciously rubbing yourself against him. It feels like you need to drag every inch of your skin across his. He smells and feels so good. You just want to bathe yourself in this delectable smell. He clears his throat above you, “So, what do you need?”

Your hand automatically slides down his torso and past his tewng to grab his already stiff dick. You’re not sure which one of you shudders more at the contact. “Ahh…I need this.” Your free hand finds the knot keeping his loincloth around his hips and fumbles a bit at untying it, but you get it done. His dick springs up and slaps his stomach with a very audible thump. Your mouth is violently salivating while you drop to your knees in front of him. You can feel how your body is craving his. With no hesitation, you take him into your mouth and move your head at a steady pace.

When you look up at Neteyam, he can’t bring himself to hold your gaze for longer than a second. The sounds you’re making swallowing his dick are too much. You momentarily pop off him.

"You gonna fall in love with me, Teyam?" you say dragging the flat of your tongue up his full length and lightly sucking over his slit. Your tone is teasing not fully realizing just how loaded of a question that really was. You need his touch. Need to feel his hands on your body all over. You grab both of his wrists and guide his hands to rest on top of your head and use your fingers to urge him to take hold of your hair while you slide him back into your mouth. All the while, your eyes never leave his face. Watching his face contort with pleasure while you made him feel good was making electricity run up the back of your neck.

Neteyam’s perfectly polished self-control is gradually fading from his body when his hips start to buck forward into your awaiting mouth meeting your movements. You moan at the small tug of his fingers in your hair. Every push forces more of his length into your mouth until your nose is almost touching his pelvis. Your eyes roll feeling your slick pool in your tewng. Your pussy is getting needier with every suck and slurp. But you need to taste him. That sweet utumauti flavor. It’s a need you can feel deep in your bones.

His eyes close relishing in the feeling of his approaching orgasm. “Oh, Eywa, I’m close. Should I pull it out?” he tries to get the question out quickly before he can’t hold it back anymore. Much to Neteyam’s eye-rolling pleasure, you hum out ‘mm mm’ around him while gently shaking your head back and forth. “A-ah, if you…hng, do that…” his hips stutter in your mouth when his thick, hot seed shoots into the back of your mouth. His delicious flavor explodes over your tongue and it makes you feel like you could almost cum without even being touched yet.

A deep, guttural groan leaves his throat as you eagerly keep sucking his release out of him. You’re so desperate to get every last drop of him. So much so that he doesn’t even get the chance to get soft before he’s fully stiff again. He has to fully grab you by your hair and pull you off of him before you drive him to the point of overstimulation. You’re panting looking up at him. His eyes are soft, but the way his pupils have overtaken the color in his eyes tells you the truth of his desire.

Your fingers start to rub against your clothed cunt that was just begging for attention. “Please, Nete…I need you inside me…”

Self-restraint has now fully become a thing of the past. In fact, Neteyam was pretty sure in this moment that he didn’t even actually know what those words even meant. He couldn’t remember. They feel like a foreign concept in his mind right now. I mean, how could he possibly think about restraining himself when your voice is dripping with all the sweetness of a ripe yovo fruit calling out the name that he only liked to hear from your mouth? He didn’t stand a chance and you both knew it.

He crouches in front of you to capture your lips in another heated kiss. The taste of his mouth mixes with the taste of his cum still fresh on your tongue and it’s disorienting. He swallows the moans you let out against his lips. His hands fidget with the knot on your tewng until it finally falls from your hips. An absolutely shameless moan falls from your lips when his fingers come into contact with your core. He easily slips two fingers inside of you and, while it makes your hips jerk, it’s not enough, not tonight when you’re feeling needier than ever. It takes all your will power to pull your lips away from his so that you can lie on your back. Your hands push your top out of the way to expose your chest and you spread your legs for him.

Neteyam is left awestruck staring down your most intimate area. The way your skin is shining from being covered in your slick and the slightly pink color peeking between your royal blue skin. Not to mention the tanhì speckled around your mound and converge perfectly above your clit. It’s his first time seeing it so clearly and he can’t help but think how pretty you look. His tail excitedly thrashes behind him and he just feels stuck.

“Nete, don’t stare. It’s embarrassing.” Your hands cover your face hoping to hide the blush coloring your face. You don’t look at him yet, but you can hear him shuffle around in front of you. His body slides in between your still open legs and he uses one hand to move yours from in front of your face so that you have to look at him. His face is so close to yours and his eyes are peering down at your lips making you part them slightly. There’s so much you want to say to him, but the words never find you. They don’t feel like enough to fully convey what you feel so you let your body do all the talking for you.

Your arms fall around his neck and pull him back into a kiss. One of his hands stays planted next to your head to hold himself up while the other is softly gripping your hip. His tip is just barely brushing against your clit and it makes you whine helplessly as your hips rut up trying to meet him. You take it upon yourself to line him up with your entrance. His hips chase the warmth of your body and he pushes into you slowly. Your back jumps to arch up against him when the head pops in. The stretch is just on the very edge of being painful, but not quite all the way. Your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck as his arms come up to cradle around your head while he keeps slowly stroking his full length into you. Your nose lingers around his scent gland and you breathe in big, heady lung fulls of his scent. His lips kiss at your gland right below your ear and normally, this would be something you would both avoid, but your need is too great. You decide you'll deal with whatever the fallout is later, but for right now, you need to have him completely be yours.

When he bottoms out in you he just holds himself there letting you and him adjust to all the new sensations you’re both experiencing. He’s so big and deep in you that there’s a small bump protruding through your stomach almost reaching your navel. The pain is almost gone, but you can’t wait for it to fully subside.

“N-Need you to move, Nete.” Your hips are already grinding up into him searching for some kind of friction that can hopefully finally scratch that itch. When he slowly pulls out and pushes back in, you can feel how every inch drags perfectly against the spongey part of your walls sending you jolts of satisfaction. And now you question how you’ll ever survive another heat cycle without a partner to help you through it like this.

“Mm…Ahh. Faster. It’s okay.” You reassure him.

“Is this good?” he asks speeding up his pace. The lovestruck expression on his face is overwhelming while he makes you feel oh so fucking good.

Your pussy spasms and hugs tight around his cock that’s buried to the hilt inside of you. “Mhm! Ah, that’s good.” Somehow, you still want more. You don’t know how much closer you could get, but your skin is burning for more of his touch. You lead one of his hands to hold one of your breasts, “Touch me, Nete.”

It’s like your words flip some kind of switch for him. His fingers start to massage the soft skin under his touch. You watch the physical change on his face as his whole demeanor relaxes and he lets himself give in to his urges. His eyes are still soft on you, but the nerves are gone. There’s not a hint of hesitation left to be found. He starts to give you long, deep strokes filling the air with the loud squelching sounds of your pussy being stretched for the first time.

Neteyam’s voice drops to a low, hushed tone whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You feel so good, ma txe’lan. Oh, I want you so bad.” His pace gets faster as he speaks. You can hear his voice and you hear the words, but the meaning behind his words gets lost on the trip from his lips to your ears. The only thing you can think about is how he’s now fully pounding into your cervix and his sweet, sweet smell filling your dizzy head. Your hands claw at his back feeling the building tension in your core begin to tighten.

"Hng...you're taking me so well. Doing such a good job."

“Ah! Neteyam! Yes!” Your pussy clenches around every inch and ridge of his dick as he fills you making him suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” You can feel the swell of his knot starting to come in at the base of his cock. Feeling the constant knock of it against you sends you into a purely instinct-driven frenzy.

“Aah! Haah! HaAH! Fuck, I’m going to cum!” your legs are starting to tremble around his waist signaling your impending release. “I need…need your knot.”

His eyebrows scrunch together feeling unsure. You notice the look on his face and place your hands on either side of his face before he can protest. “Please knot me, Nete. Ahhhh…I need it so bad. Pleeeeaaase.” Your begging is nothing short of pitiful, but for Neteyam, he’s never been more aroused in his life. How is he ever supposed to deny his most precious girl what she wants when she’s literally begging for it? He knows he can’t.

His arms wrap completely around your middle and hold you against his body, fully lifting you off the ground balancing your combined weight on his knees and his lips attack your exposed throat. “S-Shit, I’m gonna make sure you take it.”

His knot prods at your opening struggling to fit the extra size in. When you shift your hips under him and spread your thighs just a little bit wider, it pushes in with ease. The extra size makes you want to scream, but Neteyam’s lips find yours just in time to muffle the sound. It throws you into the deep end of your orgasm and he watches as you come undone in his arms. The continual rolling of his hips against yours gives him just what he needs to reach his own high as his cum spills directly into you. His fingers hold you with bruising strength feeling the most intense release he’s ever had.

It’s hot like fire inside of you, but it ironically puts out the flame of your heat. Stars spot your vision as you reach your peak and ride it out clenching around Neteyam’s intruding length. Your body goes limp in his hold, but he still keeps you close. When you both come down, you stare into each other’s eyes letting the reality settle in your minds.

Neteyam is the one to finally break the silence, “Um, w-was that good?” his voice is small and unsure.

“That was perfect, Teyam. Thank you.” A euphoric smile sits on your face feeling the blissed-out afterglow wash over you.

He tries to shift his hips back out of you, but you both quickly realize that that’s not an option just yet when you wince a little in pain.

“I don’t think I can pull out of you without hurting you.”

“Yea. I guess we’re stuck like this for a while.” You say while you both look down at where you were still connected. Neteyam pulls back so that he’s sitting upright and brings you with him so that you were now straddling his lap. Your mind still isn’t fully coherent as now, instead of your body seeking a heated, lustful touch, you now only wanted comfort and compassion. Seeking out that safety, you let yourself cuddle into Neteyam’s chest and your body purrs with content.

His hands rest on your back and draw little shapes into your skin with his fingertips. He tries to focus on not immediately getting hard again, which only halfway works, and watches the sky in contemplation about his life and what he truly wanted.

It feels like the longest time that you both just sit there physically tied together and feeling the nirvana of the skin-to-skin contact while you wait for his knot to go down enough for him to slide out of you. Even when it does and he pulls out, you still stay holding onto each other for a few more minutes, neither one of you really wanting to turn back to reality after the time-suspending experience you just shared.

When you both get dressed Neteyam offers to walk you back home in case you were still feeling disoriented from your heat, but you assure him that you are fine enough to make it home on your own. You remind him that he needs to get back to dinner before people start to come looking for him.

“Thank you, Teyam. For everything. You really saved me.” You say only half-joking. Even though you know that you would have survived your heat somehow, when you were in the thick of it, it didn’t feel that way.

“Who’s the mighty warrior? Come on, say it.” He teases his signature line with a lighthearted lilt to his voice and a playful smile. You lightly shove his shoulder and scrunch your nose at him. At the same time, your heart can’t help but sputter in your chest. You quickly, without thinking, press a kiss to his cheek and turn on your heels to run home. “Good night, Teyam!”

Neteyam stands frozen in place, stunned. His face flushed and his tail swayed wildly behind him. His chest squeezes with the thought, the hope, the hunch that maybe, just maybe…you loved him too.

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years ago

Text

You Are My Queen Now | Final Part

Word Count: 15.4k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: somnophilia, dry humping, thigh riding, cunnilingus, mentions of domestic abuse, physical fight, handjob, boobjob, gyu being pussy whipped, slutshaming, gore, major character death, and some other warnings i can't give without spoiling the ending but just know it's a very dark fic

“Beomgyu, what are you doing? Get down from there!” You shout, noticing Beomgyu scaling one of the nearby walls of the garden.

“I’ll be right down” He yells back to you over his shoulder.

“You’re not a boy anymore. You could fall down and hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” He protests stubbornly, his words faltering as he almost loses his footing on the wall, making you gasp, your heart plummeting down the same way you imagined he would have.

“Beomgyu, don’t stress me out like this. It’s bad for the baby.” You wail, your pregnant state lending a nice vulnerable effect to your pleading words. It works very well because in the next moment Beomgyu gives in and starts climbing back down the wall. He walks towards you with shoulders slumped and a dejected frown on his face

“What has gotten into you?” You ask him and he shrugs. “I wanted to get you a sunflower.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the silly reason behind his dangerous action, an unwanted memory of pearl necklaces and bloody bandages springing forth into your mind. You shake your head to dispel the intrusive thoughts. “You could’ve had one of the gardeners get one.”

“But that’s not the same.” He whines, plopping down to the floor next to you. “I wanted to get you one, you know, like old times. But all I got are these stupid flowers.” He throws said flowers at your feet, sulking.

You roll your eyes at his little tantrum. “Beomgyu, you shower me in gifts every day.”

“I know but it doesn’t mean much anymore. I want to give you something meaningful to cheer you up.” He sighs, getting closer to you and cupping your face between his hands. You refrain from pulling back at his words that remind you why you’re in such a sour mood. “I hate seeing you so sad.”

Lately, there have been a lot of unflattering rumors swirling around about you following your wedding and especially after your pregnancy has been announced. People have been calling you all kinds of nasty things–a homewrecker, a cheater, disloyal, unworthy… and of course, a whore.

Among Taehyun’s supporters, you’re seen as an adulterer who betrayed her husband and spread her legs for the king in order to win the crown. They theorize that you’ve been prostituted since a young age by your own father (a claim you have no doubt has been pushed primarily by Heejin’s family) and planted at the palace to seduce to the younger prince before jumping to Taehyun when the king refused to let Beomgyu marry you, then jumping back to Beomgyu when his father was out of the picture.

Even among those who support Beomgyu, you’re seen as a low-born noble who clawed her way up the ranks by seducing the king and having him get rid of his rightful wife. They believe you not fit to be his queen, that you’re below him because you’re not only not royal but that you don’t even bring him or the kingdom any political or monetary advantages. On the contrary, you only bring them war and death.

Neither side is kind to you. They both see you as the whore who bewitched the two men. How else could a woman of your standing get these two powerful men to fight over you to the death like this?

“I only wanted to do good.” You look down in pain. You didn’t expect Taehyun’s men and his people to hold any fondness for you but for even Beomgyu’s vassals and the common people to view you so disfavorably? It crushed you. "I tried to help them. Why are they doing this?"

“Do you want me to stop the project? Round up those who talk ill of you and punish them?” Beomgyu asks firmly, that fiery anger he gets when someone hurts you blazing in his eyes.

You shake your head. "No. Let them. They're not worth my time." It’s no use, punishing them won’t make it any better. They’ll just hate you more. Only Beomgyu loves you. You will be safe as long as you stay by his side. Only he can ever love you.

He sighs defeatedly. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”

“Come, lie down on my lap.” You gesture to him and he obeys, laying his head on your thighs and facing your growing belly. He kisses it, grinning in that endearing way that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart leap in your chest. “I can’t wait to meet you, baby.”

You smile at his airy giggles and pick up one of the flowers he collected, snapping off most of the stem so you can nestle the rest between the strands of his hair. You then grab another flower and do the same until his hair is filled up with the colorful petals in a delicate crown upon his head.

“Stunning.” You awe, prodding his head up just a little bit to see your handiwork.

“Am I?” He arches one eyebrow, teasing.

“Very. But you could look even more stunning.” You ponder, taking off your necklaces and wrapping them around his neck one by one. “Now I know why you love dressing me up so much.” You half-tease, half-swoon at how breathtaking he looks with the mess of different flowers in his hair and your necklaces draped around his neck. He looks just like what you imagined those woodland nymphs you read about in your books would look like. “Remember when I used to put makeup on you when we were kids?”

He laughs heartily at the memory. “Of course, you always had fun at the beginning but then you’d get all pouty and annoyed and huff about me looking prettier than you.”

“Well, you were.” You cross your arms over your chest, huffing.

Beomgyu suddenly sits up and pulls you onto his lap, burying a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and pressing your face inches from his. “And now? Still think I’m pretty?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling hot. “Well, yeah… But also sexy.”

He smiles, pleased, and pulls you into a sweet kiss.

But when he pulls back, face still so close to yours, you can easily see the bags under his eyes that droop heavily from fatigue. As far as you know, he’s winning the war, but that triumph necessitated an insurmountable amount of work and time spent in meetings and war councils that went on from the brink of dawn till late at night. He still made sure to put aside time to spend with you and the baby growing in your belly, but even that must be taxing on his already depleted energy.

You know you shouldn’t feel bad for him–he’s doing this to get rid of his one and only competition–but your heart can’t see your Beomgyu suffer and not ache along with him. You know if you tell him to go take a nap, he would refuse, insisting that spending time with you was more important than even his own health, so you go with the next best thing.

You lay him back on your lap, running your fingers through his silky hair while you murmur a slow love song to him, trying to lull him into a peaceful sleep right there in your arms.

“No, I don’t want to sleep.” He whines, catching onto what you’re doing. After all, you’ve been doing it for a few days now.

“Please, baby, for me?” You whisper softly, trying not to scare away the sleep from his pretty eyes. “I need a little nap.”

“Oh, well if you need it.” He yawns, giving in. wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into your belly.

You smile at your tired lover fondly, leaning back against the tree behind you and closing your eyes before beginning to sing again, the both of you drifting into a peaceful, warm slumber under the soothing rays of the dazzling sun.

______________________________

You wake up with a liquid heat gathered in the pit of your stomach. Anyone else experiencing this strange sensation might've thought it unusual, but not you. You’re quite used to it by now.

You register Beomgyu’s wet tongue lapping at your pussy before you even open your eyes to confirm it. Beomgyu has been at this for weeks, starting the day with his face buried between your legs. He has been even more insatiable ever since he got you pregnant. He can’t even look at the little bump of your belly without getting heated up.

As for you, you've heard that pregnancy can decrease your libido and make you withdraw from sex but in your experience, it's been quite the opposite and Beomgyu was more than happy to satisfy your heightening needs. Even when you aren’t in the mood to have actual sex, Beomgyu would content himself with eating you out and jerking himself off like he's doing right now.

Basically he would wake you up with his face buried in your pussy and if you were in the mood, you would grab his hair and pull him up to get fucked and if you weren’t in the mood you'd just let him give you a nice little orgasm while he got himself off too–a little something to get the both of you through the day.

You feel Beomgyu’s hands leave your thighs and move up your body to push your delicate nightdress down to expose your breasts, moaning out as they come into his view. "They're getting bigger, huh?"

You blush under his lewd gaze. "Yeah."

"Push them together." He groans, jerking urgently at his cock.

Beomgyu has always liked your breasts, and now that they’ve been getting bigger, he’s become positively obsessed with them. Whenever you two are alone, things would always devolve into him latching onto them, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh until it’s all red and glistening with his saliva. Even when he is too busy to properly pay them attention to them because he has to do paperwork or the like, he would sit you on his lap and write with one hand while holding one of your breasts with the other, intermittently squeezing it like his own personal stress reliever as he reads over and signs the documents.

You obey his request, pushing your breasts together and flicking your fingers over your nipples, whining at him for neglecting your pussy for those few seconds. "Puppy."

Maybe you're more horny than you thought.

"Want me to take you, baby?" He bites his lip, noting the way your pussy gushes between your splayed legs.

You do, but you want to mess with him even more so you shake your head. "No. Want my king to hump the bed like the horny dog he is."

Beomgyu doesn’t shy away for a second, biting his lip at your filthy request. "I got you, my queen."

He leans down to catch your pussy with his mouth once again while simultaneously pushing a couple of fingers inside you. But it wasn’t his mouth or his fingers that truly drove you insane, it was the way he ground his hips against the mattress in pace with his pumps as if he was imagining it was his dick fucking you instead.

You love seeing him so needy for you, yet so obedient. He’ll take anything you give him even if that was just your attention as he got the both of you off.

And it doesn’t take him long to do that. He cums first, his moans half-muffled by your pussy before he pulls his head up to let you look at his face that is twisted in pleasure, just like he knows you like. His fingers keep pumping rapidly into you as his own hips stutter and he stares at you, slack-jawed and pleading.

“Cum for me, my queen.”

“Beomgyu, fuck!” You scream, grabbing him by the hair and pushing his head back down, grinding yourself against his pretty face as you orgasm.

Fuck, how have neither of you had your fill of each other yet? How are you just as needy now as the first night even as you lay boneless in your post-orgasmic bliss?

Beomgyu climbs up your body to press a soft kiss against your lips, giggling when you kiss him back dazedly. “I really tired you out, huh?”

“Just a little bit.” You answer lazily, leaning into his touch as he carasses your body. "You don’t have to leave the bed, you know? I can have the maids come and take care of everything, get you your food, your painting supplies… my mother says pregnant women need plenty of rest."

You roll your eyes. He’s been trying to stop you from making even the slightest bit of effort ever since the pregnancy was discovered. "I'm not that heavily pregnant yet. I can still move."

"I know. I just want you to be safe and comfortable. Both of you." He rubs your belly lovingly.

"We are, puppy." You really are. Beomgyu is going above and beyond to make you happy. He has put himself completely at your beck and call–along with everyone he rules and everything he owns. You want for nothing in your blissful little bubble that he has made for you.

Only, you wish that bubbles weren’t so fragile. No matter how much he and you try, you can never completely keep the bad thoughts and horrible dread at bay. He doesn’t tell you but you know he is closing in on Taehyun now. You hear it all around the palace, and you worry that you will receive news of his demise any day now.

That is why you sorely need any distraction you can get. You can’t stay in bed with your calamitous thoughts all day.

You shake your head at Beomgyu and smile. “Don’t worry about me. I just want to spend some time with my friends.”

____________________________

Friends–a word that has been foreign to you all your life, but somehow you’ve managed to gain a few friends this time around–made yourself a little group from among the ladies in waiting and others who frequented Beomgyu’s court.

You can’t say that you’re close to most of them, nor do you really talk about your private affairs but it's still nice to be around people who are there by their own volition rather than having been forced to accommodate you because the royals ordered them to.

Yes, you’re not close to them but that doesn’t mean you know nothing of their situations. Secrets aren’t a thing in the socially intricate and gossipy landscape of a royal palace, and everyone’s business gets passed around like a particularly sublime wine for all to enjoy. And now that you have your own circle of friends, you too get to be privy to those poorly-kept secrets. You learn that you weren’t misery’s sole companion, that everyone else is touched by it too.

Even the high-bred ladies suffer from their own misfortunes; Lady Minjun can't give her husband a child and he resents her for it, making his distaste clear by sleeping around and fathering numerous bastards from other women. Lady Namjoo’s husband prefers the company of men. Lady Hayoon’s in-laws aren’t fond of her and they make it their personal mission to sabotage her marriage to her husband who won’t even stand up for her in front of his family. And Lady Chaeyoung's husband hurts her behind closed doors.

Chaeyoung was the first of your so-called friends. After she had cheekily congratulated you for putting Heejin in her place, you two started speaking more and more and eventually became close–well, as close as the situation permits. She had a quiet demeanor which made her blend into the background when she was around other ladies, which is why you didn’t take much note of her before, but when you were alone, she demonstrated an impressive sharpness of wit and a penchant for bluntness that you’ve quickly grown to appreciate.

Out of all the ladies you’ve befriended, she was the one you’re most likely to actually consider a friend. Which is why you were all the more heartbroken when you noticed the suspicious marks on her skin.

She had at first dismissed your concerns, chalking the bruises up to her being clumsy and unintentionally hurting herself. But you’ve never known her to be particularly graceless and the shape of fingerprints on her skin was unmistakable. Eventually, after much insistence and prodding on your part, she told you the truth, confiding in you that when her husband loses his temper, he often times takes it out on her.

You were horrified to hear that. Her husband is a big brute and she’s such a frail little thing–how can he hurt her like this? You wanted to get Beomgyu involved immediately, knowing he’s the only person powerful enough to put a stop to this, but she adamantly refused, insisting that her husband didn’t mean it and that he promised her that he would stop. You didn’t believe him. That’s what they all say, only to turn around and hurt you again and again. Still she had begged you not to tell Beomgyu and you didn’t on the condition that if he does it one more time, you’d have no choice but to tell.

And here she is again, with the marks of his anger on her body.

“What is this?” You ask Chaeyoung, grabbing onto her arm where you can see a bluish bruise peeking out of her sleeve.

She yanks her arm back and tries to cover it. "It's nothing, my queen."

“It’s not nothing.” You scoff, keeping your voice low so that the other ladies won’t hear. "Is your husband hurting you again?"

"It’s my fault. I drove him to it. If I had just listened, he wouldn’t have needed to act that way." She hurries to defend him, and something about her response makes you both livid and profoundly sad.

“No! It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare say that again.” You hiss lowly, set off by her words. “He is the one to blame. He is the one who hurt you, and he has to answer for what he did.”

“No!” She panics, shaking her head vehemently. “Please, don’t! Just let it go, my queen. I’m fine.”

“He can’t keep getting away with this. I won’t let him. If you don’t want Beomgyu to know then I’ll confront him myself.” You get to your feet, your mind made up. You don’t listen to her cries and pleads. You can’t really hear them, too focused on the ringing between your ears and the unbidden tears springing to your eyes.

You march towards where you know he would be and demand to talk to him alone, all the while Chaeyoung keeps trying to get you to back down. You pull him out of whatever meeting he’s in, demanding to speak to him alone. He has to oblige you. You’re his queen after all, and so he follows you to an empty room where the three of you can be alone–well you three and the guards who stick to you closer than your own shadow.

“What is the matter, my queen?” Lord Myeong, her husband, asks with faux-politeness, looking between the two of you. He never was quite able to sell the fake respect the other lords and ladies have had to treat you with ever since you got married to Beomgyu, his disdain of you managing to shine through every time.

“The matter is that you dare to lay your savage hands on her. What kind of man lays a hand on his own wife?” You shout at him, your voice shrill with disgust.

Realization dawns on his face and he glares at Chaeyoung. “What happens between a man and his wife is only for them to know.” He tells you, a sharp edge to his voice, but he still tries to maintain his affected cordiality.

You, on the other hand, don’t bother with those stupid pretenses. “Not when your ugly handprints are all over her skin for everyone to see. What is the matter with you?”

“I was merely punishing her for acting out. I have the right to discipline my wife.”

“She is not a child or a misbehaving dog. She is your wife. How could you do this to the woman you vowed in front of the gods to love and protect?”

The man rolls his eyes and looks at you like you��re wasting his time with your silly womanly wiles, and it makes you almost burst from the anger building up inside you. “I am your queen and I demand that you never lay a single finger on her again.” You command forcefully but the man dismisses you as if you were nothing, always nothing.

“Should I now?” He asks cockily, eyeing you up and down. “Maybe if the king disciplined you once in a while, you’d learn your place.”

His words make you see red, and before you can control yourself you launch yourself at him, punching him right across his unpleasant face, hearing a crack as your fist connects with his nose.

"You fucking bitch!" He howls, touching his nose in shock, his teeth grinding together when his fingers come away bloody. “I’ll fucking get you for that–”

You tense up, preparing to fight as the huge man advances on you. What did you do? You can’t take him. He is too big and strong to fight off. Unless…

Your hand reaches for the dagger tucked away inside the skirt of your dress, prepared to do anything to protect yourself in your moment of madness. Thankfully, before he can reach you, the guards step in to shield you.

“Back away.” The head knight barks at lord Myeong, his deep voice booming around the room.

Lord Myeong stops in his tracks, vexed but not about to lose his life over this. “Of course, the whore hides behind the king’s men.” He spits out before turning his furious gaze towards Chaeyoung who was shaking in the corner. “Wait till we get home.”

He tries to grab her but you quickly order the guards to stop him. They do, shoving him away from the small woman. But when you order them to throw him out of the room, they refuse.

“I’m your queen. You obey when I order you to do something.” You hiss at them but they don’t budge.

“Fine. We’ll see what the king has to say about your disobedience.” You scoff and attempt to exit the room yourself but they stand in front of the door, blocking your way out. “We’ve already sent word out for the king. No one is going to leave this room before he gets here.”

“Some queen you are.” Myeong snorts and you go to attack him again in reflex, burning in humiliation, but the guards step in and hold you back this time.

“Let go of me.” You scream, fear and panic spiking inside you at the traumatic memories that being restrained brings back. You kick one of them in the shin, getting him to let you go before you punch the other one in the stomach, freeing yourself and moving away from them.

“Don’t you dare touch me again.” You heave out frantically.

“Crazy bitch.” You hear lord Myeong mutter under his breath, further igniting your rage but you don’t try to attack him again, focusing your energy on trying to get out of the room that suddenly feels all too suffocating.

“Let me out.” You try again but they refuse, on their guard for any further attacks from you.

“Let me fucking out!” You scream, growing more and more agitated with every passing second.

Thankfully, Beomgyu arrives at this moment, bursting through the doors and rushing towards you at the first glimpse of your panicked state. “What is going on? Why are you screaming? Are you okay?”

“These imbeciles don’t know how to carry orders from their queen.” You hiss in the direction of the guards, still disquieted but feeling better now that Beomgyu is right next to you. “They refused to let me leave. They even fucking restrained me.”

“Is that true?” Beomgyu turns on the guards and the head knight stutters out, no longer sounding so frightening when faced with the king’s wrath. “S-she was attacking lord Myeong, my king. We j-just thought you’d prefer to sort things out before we let her go.”

“Well, next time don’t think.” Beomgyu barks at them, “She’s your queen and you will obey her orders unless you want to be thrown in the cells.”

“Y-yes, my king.” He backs off, and bows to you. “I’m sorry, my queen.”

The rest of the guards echo his words, their apologies soothing your fire a little bit. But then Beomgyu turns to you and snuffs it out all together. “Now, what happened here?”

"Nothing, my king." Lord Myeong straightens out as he talks to his king–so different from how he addressed you.

Your scoff at his changing attitude catches Beomgyu’s attention and he turns back to you, seeking an answer, but you don’t say anything, too embarrassed by everything that happened to speak right now. Beomgyu gets the message, reading you easily just like he always does, and escorts you to a separate room so you can explain yourself freely, away from the others.

“Beomgyu—” You tear up, throwing your arms around his neck, needing him to comfort you after your fuck up. He wraps one arm around your waist while the other goes to brush away the stray tears that leave your eyes. “It’s okay, my love. Tell me what happened and I’ll fix it.”

He will. He always does. Every time you lash out at someone or do something stupid, he always has your back.

“He hurts her, Beomgyu. He beats her up. We can all see the ugly blue and green bruises on her skin.” Your lips quiver as you recount to him what happened, telling him how she asked you not to go to him and promised you that the beatings will stop, and how you flew into a rage when they didn’t.

“Oh, baby, my kind-hearted queen. You just wanted to help your friend, didn’t you?” He coos softly and you nod. “But you should’ve come to me, still. I would’ve helped her. Don’t I always help?”

“You do.” You admit quietly.

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” He asks and you feel an uncomfortable, queasy feeling budding at the pit of your stomach at that question. You don’t want to answer that. You don’t want to unfurl the seed and let it grow into the hideous monster it can be.

So you go with half of the truth. “I wanted to fix it on my own. No one takes me seriously, Beomgyu.”

He sighs. “And you think threatening to punch people–or in this case actually breaking their nose–is the way to get them to take you seriously?” He reprimands you and you try to draw back, feeling embarrassed, but he doesn’t let you go, using the arm he has around your wasit to hold onto you and pull you tighter against him. “My love, you need to let go of the savage ways he’s taught you.”

You press your lips into a thin line at that, your hackles raised. Taehyun isn’t savage. He taught you to defend yourself for the first time in your life, something that Beomgyu never did. He only shielded you from the abuse when he noticed it or when you told him. He never taught you how to protect yourself.

Beomgyu doesn’t like your silence. He never does. But thankfully, for now, he lets it go, sighing. "Stay here."

But you grab onto his arm before he can go, fretting. "Is Chaeyoung going to be okay?"

"I'll take care of it." He promises you, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss against your forehead before he leaves you to deal with the mess you created.

As you’re left alone to simmer in the aftermath of your most recent fuck up, you realize just how much you’ve strayed from Taehyun’s teachings. You almost were something, almost were your own person, but now you’re even worse than before. Weren’t you the woman who once stood up to the fearsome lord Taehyun and got him to listen to you? Now you’re hiding away as you let Beomgyu take care of problems you created while trying to reclaim that phantom power. You're back to being the stupid helpless little girl who needs Beomgyu to do everything for her. This is just what he wanted, isn’t it? Well, he succeeded.

You’re yanked out of your ruminations when you hear the door open. You look up to ask Beomgyu how it went, only to find Chaeyoung standing there.

“Oh, Chae–” You rush towards her but she puts her hand up to stop you and you halt. “What–”

“Why did you do that? I told you to let it go!” She fumes and you draw back in shock. “I was just trying to help–”

“No, you were trying to make yourself feel better about your own issues with the king.”

You freeze at her words. “What are you talking about?”

She scoffs. “It’s obvious. I don’t know what exactly is going on with you and the king, but god knows everyone has heard the rumors, and whatever unresolved shit you have going on is making you feel helpless and angry and instead of confronting him about it, you lashed out at my own husband to make yourself feel better about your own complacency.”

You shake your head forcefully. “That’s not true. It’s not.” The hot tears sting at your eyes once again, but Chaeyoung doesn’t care for it. No one does except Beomgyu.

“Yes, it is and don’t you deny it. Because if you actually cared about what’s good for me you wouldn’t have put me in danger by confronting Myeong.”

“P-put you in danger?” What is she talking about?

“Yes. Do you think what you did will make him hurt me any less? It will only make him more angry!”

“You’re staying with him?” You ask incredulously and her answering laugh is haughty and bitter. "You're staying with Beomgyu?"

You clamp up. "What other option do I have? You think I can just separate from my husband and not be completely ostracized from all my friends and family? I don’t have a king who would kill his own wife and buy my annulment so he can marry me."

"That is cruel, Chae." You croak. How could she say this to you? She might not know the full story of what happened between you and Beomgyu, but just like she said, everyone has heard the rumors, and her being one of the ladies in waiting, she is sure to know more than anyone else about what you’ve been through at his hands.

She takes in a deep breath to try to calm herself down, and you can see how underneath her anger, there is tremendous fear. “I’m sorry but you need to hear it. I didn't ask you to intervene. Worry about your own problems from now on."

She’s right–the seed unfurls, the monster grows. The only reason you got so enraged and out of control is because what she said reminded you of what Beomgyu has always told you–that you’re the reason for your own suffering, that if you had just been good, that if you didn’t try to escape, that if you let him do what he wants to you, he wouldn’t have hurt you like he did. When she blamed herself for what happened, it felt like she was blaming you too.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It was about me. I guess I just saw my situation in yours and couldn't control myself. It was selfish of me. I just feel so helpless and I wanted to do something for once."

"You are doing something.” She insists, stepping closer to you for the first time since she came into the room. “You’re using him to make things better. It's the best anyone can do in your position. You know the peasants are talking shit about you and yet you’re still helping them and he's letting you. You may not be carrying out those good deeds directly but you're accomplishing more than you ever could have with Lord Taehyun. The king will do anything to please you. You just have to ask."

You contemplate her words in silence. You suppose she’s right about that too. You may not be doing anything directly. People may look down on you and belittle you. But through Beomgyu, you can accomplish so much and he would be more than happy to let you. Maybe you should just get out of your state of self-pity and acknowledge that you’re more lucky–despite it all–than most of the other ladies here.

"But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies by your reckless actions. If you keep this up, you'll be damning him." She continues, and that more than anything, gets your attention.

You hadn’t thought about it that way before, too caught up in your own feelings to know any better. Beomgyu never said a word about it to you either. You suppose he’s just so intent on proving to you that he has your back and will not let the others treat you in a way you don’t like anymore, that he’s letting you ruin his court relations.

"I don't want you to remove my husband from the palace. That would just make things worse for me. So could you please smooth things over with the king?" She asks you, and you give her a small nod. “Thank you.”

You still feel a hint of satisfaction when Beomgyu drags Lord Myeong into the room, the bigger man looking denigrated and subjugated as he apologizes to you and his wife. You merely give him a nod while Chaeyoung graciously announces that she forgives him.

"Get your things ready. You leave at first light." Beomgyu announces when he’s done, and Chaeyouung shoots you a panicked look.

“Actually, I would like him to stay” You interrupt, shocking both men. You bow your head and continue, "If my king will permit, of course."

“But the way he treated you–” Beomgyu balks, unable to stomach the offense to his wife.

“I provoked him.” You bite down on your tongue as you parrot the incriminatory words. “Neither of us behaved particularly civilly.”

“But, baby–” Beomgyu moves close to you, whispering quietly. You hold his right hand between your two smaller ones, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, my love. Give him one more chance. For me.”

He still looks uncomfortable with letting it pass, but you turn to face Lord Myeong, scowling at him in warning. "If he will give you his word not to hurt Chae again."

Beomgyu turns to him and the man nods tightly. "I give you my word, my king." He proclaims, then bows to you. “My queen.”

It’s hard to keep in your scoff, and you can’t look at the coward much longer. Luckily, you don’t have to as Beomgyu waves his hand, dismissing them both, along with the guards, leaving only you and him in the room.

“I don’t like this, darling. He almost laid his hands on you.” Beomgyu recounts angrily, taking you in his arms. “He almost hurt you.”

“I hurt him first. I started it.” You repeat uneasily, and it’s almost funny how Beomgyu finds issue with the sentiment when it doesn’t relate to him.

“You can do whatever you want. You’re his queen.” Beomgyu argues, “If you want to, I can bring him back here and you can use that dagger of yours to brighten up his face a little bit.”

His suggestion, entirely too serious, sends a shiver down your spine.

The king will do anything to please you. But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies.

You shake your head. “No. I need to start acting like a lady again.” You look away, your lower lip wobbling and cheeks flaming, but Beomgyu turns your head to face him once again. “You’ll always be a lady. No one can ever change that.” He presses a kiss against each of your tear-stained cheeks, before continuing, "But I must admit that there are better ways to get people to listen to you than punching them in the face. No matter how endlessly funny I find it when you do that."

You can’t help but smile a little at his joke, allowing yourself to really look at him, and you see nothing but adoration shining back at you. Beomgyu is in love with you. He'd do anything for you. So why are you standing here worrying about anyone else?

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, kissing you slowly, his soft lips molding against your own as your breaths mingle and your tongues meet. You can never get tired of kissing Beomgyu, each kiss containing a multitude of emotions that never wane–love, lust, need, ecstasy, relief… He kisses you like it’s the first and last time he ever will. Even this slow kiss is so heavy with feeling, it takes your breath away.

“Am I?” You ask once you break the kiss, mouthing along his jawline.

“Yeah. So perfect.” His breath hitches as you move down his neck. “Oh, love, if you keep going like that I’m going to–Oh…”

You slip your hand under his pants, palming him as you suck on his sensitive neck. “Going to what, puppy?”

“Going to lose control.” He finishes, and you chuckle cockily. “As if you ever had any control when it came to me.”

You take your hand out of his pants, hushing his protesting whine, and walk him backwards until you reach a chair and push him on it, getting down on your knees between his legs.

“Darling, no, don’t sit on the floor. Want you comfortable–”

“Hush, Beomgyu. Be a good pup and let me play with you however I want.” You chastise, shooting down his overly-protective tendencies as you take him out of his pants and jerk him into hardness.

“Yes, baby.” He groans, throwing his head back against the chair as he hungrily watches you pumping his cock from under his heavy lashes. He’s too damn easy. So what if everyone thinks you’re his whore? You have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything you tell him to. He adores you. He’d spend his days and nights worshiping at your feet if you let him. "Love it when you use me."

"Yeah?" You shiver, soaking up his need and adulation that hit you like the buzz of a strong liquor. You really can’t live without him. You live off his love. He wants to give you everything–himself, a family, even the whole kingdom. No one else matters to him and no one else should matter to you.

You push yourself up to loom over him and cup his chin with your hand. "Open your mouth."

He does, sticking his tongue out, ready for you to spit in his mouth. His eyes flutter when you do and you feel his cock jerk in your other hand.

"Filthy." You sneer, but you can’t hide the thrill that goes through you at that, neither do you even try. He deserves to see your own need. "And that bastard dares to say you can discipline me."

Beomgyu quickly pulls his tongue inside his mouth and grinds his teeth together as his hazy eyes clear up a little bit. "He said that? I'll kill him."

"No. He doesn't matter." You brush it off, pushing him back down. None of them matter. Only Beomgyu. "As long as you're mine."

"Always."

You push his shirt up his body, bunching it up under his chin as your free hand feels his tummy up to his pert nipples–his soft tummy, so different from the hard planes of Taehyun’s abdomen now that Beomgyu allowed it to go back to its natural state. You don’t know how he got it into his head that you wanted him to resemble Taehyun when all you’ve ever wanted was everything he was.

Beomgyu’s back arches when you flick one of his nipples lightly, his cock getting pushed further into your fist as he mewls.

“So sensitive.” You purr, nudging his poor nipple again and again. “So desperate. You fuck me every day and night and yet you’re still so needy. Is it never enough for you?”

“Never.” He vows breathlessly. “How can I ever get my fill when you’re the most wonderful creature the gods have ever created?”

The words come to him so easily, pouring forth like a sweet balm to soothe any semblance of worry in you before it has the chance to flare up. This is what you needed. This is what love is. Yes, it hurts sometimes, but god when it’s good, nothing and no one else compares.

"More…” Beomgyu pleads, hips nudging upwards ever so lightly. “Just a little bit more. Please."

“Of course, whatever my baby wants.” You coo sweetly, too sweetly, increasing your pace on his cock a little bit. Just a little bit though, messing with him until he groans out in frustration. “Baby, please!”

"What? I thought you said just a little bit." You cock your head to the side in mock confusion but the playful giggle you can’t hold back at his pout gives you away.

“You’re always so mean.”

“Oh, puppy.” You finally take pity on him, leaning upwards to press a kiss to his lips as you quicken your pace, much faster this time, and his mouth falls open as moans stream out of it.

"You have such a pretty cock, puppy, so big and thick. It feels so good when you fuck me." You tease him, knowing it will just drive him more insane. And it does just that, the imagery getting to his dumb head. "Yeah? Want to fuck you so bad."

"Of course you do.” You pout sympathetically, “You're ready to fuck if I even just glance your way, aren't you?"

"Yeah. All ready for you, always." He nods, hips thrusting up to fuck your fist.

“Did I say you could do that?” You hiss and he quickly stills, whimpering at your harsh tone like a scolded dog.

You pause for a moment to take your lover in, sprawled on the chair with his dick out and his shirt pushed up to his neck, his hands fisted into the cushion below him so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch you. He looks delectable and he’s all yours to enjoy. "You can't control yourself, can you? Maybe I need to be put on a leash or you'll be humping my leg every chance you get."

He moans at the lewd idea and surges forward to kiss you. You allow him to do it, if only so you can rile him up more, before you grab him by the neck and push him back. "You like that, don’t you, puppy? Should I make you a gold collar and put my name on it too? Show your court who rules their king?"

"Yes. You own me. You own everything." He babbles heatedly, "Whatever my queen wants, she gets. I'm just your obedient dog."

"Fuck, yes you are.” You bite down on your lip harshly, your thighs rubbing together in need at his pathetic display. “My vicious, feral dog. Come on, hump my hand."

"Thank you." He mewls, thrusting his hips up to fuck your hand once more. He is so lost in that measly amount of pleasure, taking anything he can from you, that an even more wicked idea pops into your mind.

“You really want to cum, huh?” You drawl cryptically, making Beomgyu tilt his head, giving you a confused look even as he continues to fuck your fist. But you don’t make him wonder for long. "Let's see if you can cum on command. I'm going to count down from ten and I want you to cum on one, pup."

"Baby–" He tries to protest but you’re already going through with it.

"Ten." You start, making his eyes wide, and suddenly his thrusts turn frantic.

“Good boy.” You purr, twisting your fist around his cock as a little treat for his obedience. “Nine.”

“You’re going to kill me.” He croaks and you huff out a little laugh. If only you could. Your grip gets a little tighter around him, unintentionally helping him out. “Eight.”

As you keep counting down, he gets more and more breathless.

"Please, please." He cries out in desperation. “It’s not enough.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?” You purposefully twist his words, delighting in sick pleasure as he gasps and shakes his head. “No, no, you’re more than enough!”

“Then stop complaining and be good. Five.”

His heartbroken wail goes straight to your pussy and you wonder if you’re the one who is going to cum on one. He just looks so delicious, sprawled there whimpering and crying as he strives to obey your almost impossible command.

“Four.”

“Baby… my queen…”

“Three.”

“Fuck–nghhh–”

“Two.”

“I can’t. I can’t!” He freaks out, his eyes blown wide as he stares between you and his pistoning cock.

"One." You take your hand away and he wails. You’re disappointed for a second–you really thought he could do this–but then you see his body go rigid before it convulses, cum spurting out of his red cock as he sobs.

You gasp out in delight and reach out to run your hands over his feverish skin, calming him down. "Good boy." You praise, leaning up to kiss his tear-shocked face. “I’m so proud of you baby. You did it.”

Beomgyu chases your lips, catching your lips with his own as he whines into your mouth. “So mean.”

“Why? You got to cum.” You ask him in confusion, "Did that not feel good?"

He shakes his head and sniffles. "No. It was horrible."

"Oh, you poor pup." You take his cock in your hand and stroke it languidly, unsure if he can take it. He seems to like it though and so you ask, "Do you want more?"

"Yes.” He nods empathetically, “Yes please."

"Well, since you were such a good boy." You quicken your pace, his cum making a mess of him as you use it to stroke him.

"Such a messy pup." You tsk, leaning forward to lick it. You don’t do a good job, a thick trail of saliva and cum linking your tongue and the head of his cock. But you weren’t trying to clean him up. You just wanted to tease him more, knowing how messy he likes it.

"Ah please! Suck my cock."

You grin, once again getting just what you wanted. “I have a better idea.” You tell him, spitting on his cock and spreading it along his length while your other hand pushes the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him.

“What?” He stutters, watching wide-eyed as you place his cock between your breasts and push them snuggly around it. “Come on, puppy. I know you’ve been dreaming of this.”

"I love you." He effuses, making you laugh as his hips thrust up wildly under you to push his cock between your breasts.

This should be humiliating. You’re on the floor, knees sore and tits out as you let him fuck them just so he can add even more to the cum and spit already covering them. But how can you feel anything but powerful when this is the king himself you have being so pathetic for you? When the one thing shining brighter than lust in his eyes is his love for you?

“Are you okay, puppy?” You ask him, noting how he’s struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back and the way he’s panting like a dog, sweat glistening on his skin from the struggle. "Going dumb from fucking my tits?"

"So pretty…" He whines, his thrusts growing sloppier and more erratic. "Going to cum… please let me cum."

“Go ahead, baby. You’ve been good.” Your praise, more than anything, pushes him over the edge, and he cums all over your breasts, his seed decorating your chest in beads more beautiful than any pearls.

“That’s it. Let it all out, darling.” You coax the last bit of his cum out of his cock, rubbing the head of it against your nipples in a way that has you shaking in need. God, you need him inside you. You feel so empty.

Sensing your need, or perhaps seeing it on your face, Beomgyu grabs your arms and pulls you to your feet, planting you onto his lap as he buries his face in your chest, licking his cum right off your tits and pebbled nipples.

You can’t take it sitting still so you start rubbing yourself against his thigh, a fire lighting up inside you as he tickles your nipples with his tongue and sucks on them. You’re so wound up that it doesn’t take long for that fire to become an inferno, your legs clamping around his thigh as you cum, pulling his head back harshly by his long hair to give him an open-mouthed kiss.

"Please… fuck.” He whimpers, moving your ass up so you’re sitting on his cock that is now hard once again. “Baby, please take my cock, use me."

But you shake your head, sitting up and putting him back in his pants while he whines and protests. You press a firm kiss to his lips, shutting him up. "You have things to do. We can’t stay here all day. Go do your duties like a good king and maybe I'll let you cum inside me tonight."

“Yes, baby.” He shivers, the fucked out look still apparent on his face as he gets up, and the thought that everyone is going to see him like this and know you’re the one who did this to him has you swelling with pride.

___________________________________

You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. You knew both men were out to kill each other. You knew Beomgyu offered to pardon whoever defected from Taehyun’s men and compensate them handsomely for it. You knew more and more people were turning their backs on Taehyun. You knew he was losing, and yet this somehow still comes as a shock to you.

Kai has been captured, betrayed by Taehyun’s own men and brought to the palace to be used however Beomgyu sees fit. As it so happens, what Beomgyu sees fit is using Kai's life to bargain for Taehyun’s own life. He’s asking Taehyun to give himself up in order to save his little brother.

Suddenly, everything becomes real.

“Sweetling, calm down.” Wonyoung’s musical voice trills out, halting your anxious pacing.

“Calm down? How can you be so calm?” You shrill, “Aren’t you scared for him?”

“Of course, I am but I have to stand behind my brother.” Her composure ticks you off.

“He’s going to kill Kai!” You exclaim. How can Wonyoung act so coolly about this? Doesn't she have feelings for Kai?

She sighs wearily. Despite her being a few years younger than you are, in moments like these, she feels much more mature and aged in comparison to you, like a wizened old spinster who has seen everything there is to see and knows better than you silly little you. “Not if Taehyun gives himself up.”

No. He can't do that. You shake your head in denial. “He can’t. He won’t. If he gives himself up, then the war is lost. He’s the only thing keeping it going right now. His men will put their swords down if he’s captured.”

“Whether he gives himself up now or keeps fighting, the war is already lost. It’s better to surrender now before he’s betrayed by his own men too.”

You grimace at her prediction. God no, that can’t happen. It would simply kill him. He has worked so hard for his city, sacrificed his childhood in order to become a strong, competent leader to his people. He suffered so much hate and malicious rumors and yet he never bowed under the pressure. So for him to go out this way, given up by his own men… it would kill his already broken spirit.

“He’s going to take the fall for everyone. He has no choice but to give himself up so Kai can live and his city can be spared from slaughter.” She tells you, and in your delirious state you imagine you can hear a hint of sorrow in her gentle voice. You shake your head once again, childishly refusing to acknowledge the gruesome truth. She speaks again, even more gently, "Come on, sweetling, did you really think this was going to end any other way?"

“I don’t know." You croak, Beomgyu's words clanging around inside your skull.

I'll let you see his severed head when I bring it home to you.

She doesn’t say anything else, knowing there was no use. She just holds you and lets you cry. You already know she’s telling the truth. You just refuse to believe it. You refuse to believe it’s ending this way–just like Beomgyu wanted. Always like Beomgyu wanted.

_________________________________

Once again it’s Wonyoung who accompanies you to visit Beomgyu’s newest prisoner. She could get in a lot of trouble for this and yet she does it anyway. You don’t know why. She doesn’t even go with you into the room Kai is being held in, weakly admitting that she can’t see him in that state. But she asks you to make sure he’s comfortable. She had requested from Beomgyu that he be held some place befitting of his status, but since she has never gathered the courage to visit him herself, she couldn’t be sure if Beomgyu had kept that promise or not.

The guards standing outside Kai’s makeshift cell hesitate to let you in, telling you that you need permission from the king first, but Wonyoung wouldn’t have any of that.

“This is your queen you’re speaking to. If the king finds out that you’ve refused an order from her, you’d be thrown into one of the cells, and it won’t be as nice as this one, I can promise you that.” She threatens the guard, who exchanges a look with the men flanking you. Your head knight gives him a small nod. “Listen to your queen.”

The man takes in a weary breath and shakily raises his hand to unlock the door, the keys clanging together from the way his hand trembles. When he pushes open the heavy door, Wonyoung turns away, not bearing to even glance at her captured lover.

“Stay here.” You quickly order your guards before you step inside. They hesitate, but before they can think it through, you shut the door in their face. Sure, they can open it again, but you’re certain Wonyoung will prevent them from doing so.

Once you’re inside though–your back facing Kai after you’ve shut the door–you hesitate, suddenly realizing that you don’t even know why you’re here. You haven’t prepared anything to say. You’re not sure you even have anything to say.

“Took you long enough.” Kai's voice hits your back. It’s so different from how you remember it–so tired and weak. You quickly turn around, seeing him for the first time in so long, and your heart hammers at how different he looks.

Gone are the soft, boyish features–his round cheeks replaced by sharp bones, his eyes sinking in their sockets, his usually smiling lips pressed into a sardonic smirk. He looks exhausted. While Beomgyu has gotten softer and more radiant since you came back, Kai’s life force seems to have been stripped away from his body.

This is what war does to those caught on the wrong side of it. This is how you know Beomgyu couldn’t have lost. The boy in front of you looks ten years older. He looks like he has seen the worst that a human can see, while Beomgyu has been thriving more and more each day. There was never any hope for Taehyun.

Oh god, if this is what Kai looks like, then what about Taehyun?

“Is… h-how is he?” You ask tentatively, and Kai lets out a little laugh. “Why don’t you ask him yourself. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

You wince and wring your hands together anxiously. “How can I help him? There has to be a way to save him.”

Kai scowls, getting up and walking towards you. Your heart leaps in your chest for a moment, thinking he’s going to attack you before his shackles stop him from reaching you. “There is no way. He’s been doomed since the second he laid eyes on you. You should’ve left him alone. If you had just done that, he would’ve been safe.”

“I’m sorry.” You weep, “I didn’t know it would end this way. If there was something I could do–”

“Go back to him. Die by his side, do something right in your life.” Kai compels you and you scoff at his change in tune. “Didn’t you tell me to stay away from him?”

“I thought that would stop your lunatic but it didn’t. It just broke Taehyun’s heart. He doesn’t love easily and I ripped the one person he loved from him.” He confesses sadly, but you shake your head in denial. “Taehyun doesn’t love me. He’s only doing this because he has a compulsive need to do the right thing even if it ends in disaster.”

“That may be true but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Then you saw wrong.” You shake your head again. Taehyun doesn’t love you. You don’t know what Kai thinks he saw but it wasn’t love. Beomgyu looks at you with love. You’ve never seen that look in Taehyun’s eyes. "And even if that was true, Beomgyu would never let me go. I can’t escape him.”

“You can kill your monster.” He cuts you off, “You can rid the world of his evil.”

Just the thought of it makes your heart clench painfully. You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I–I can’t do that… I’m carrying his baby.”

Kai scoffs. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

Humiliation burns deep inside you at his disgusted expression. "You told me to leave!" You scream. What does he want from you?

"But I didn't tell you to fuck him.” He denounces, and in that moment you can’t even recognize the sweet boy you met a year ago anymore. “I thought you didn't want to be known as his whore."

"I am not his whore.” You insist, distraught. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t even try to leave Beomgyu’s side anymore. Only he is safe. “I am his wife and I am carrying his rightful heir."

"And was this rightful heir conceived before or after the illegitimate marriage."

You hold in your tears. "Fine. I am rotten, just like him. I admit it. Are you happy now?"

"You should’ve realized it sooner. Your pity party is killing my brother." He spits out in disgust. “You never loved my brother. It was always Beomgyu you wanted. You just used my brother to get what you want. Well, congratulations on the happily ever after you’ll have once Taehyun is dead.”

________________________________

Your heart almost stops when you step out of the room and come face to face with Beomgyu. He looks enraged, but you don’t even have the energy to fight with him right now. And when you collapse into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, he too puts whatever he had to say to rest for now, carrying you in his arms and muttering to Wonyoung that he’ll deal with her later as he takes you away.

It’s funny how you seek comfort in him from the very thing he caused and how you actually feel soothed by him. This is why your protests never get through to him. How can they when he always manages to get you back into his arms?

You don’t see where he is taking you as you cling onto his body and hide your face in his neck. You only realize that he’s taken you back to your chambers when your back hits the mattress and the comforting and familiar smell of the room fills your nose and allows you to calm down enough to speak.

“I don’t want you to kill Taehyun.” You claw at his back desperately, your eyes searching his own for any sign of mercy. “Please.”

He looks at you with anger in his eyes, for daring to beg for Taehyun’s life, but you’re surprised to also see pity there, and that pity tells you that there is no point to your begging. “You know I have to do it. I have to set us free. I have to protect our baby.”

But you still plead your useless case–for if you really wanted to save Taehyun. You know what you must do. “So exile him. Banish him from the kingdom. Just don’t kill him.”

He shakes his head, much more patient than you ever expected from him. Why was he being so gentle with you when usually any allusion to Taehyun would have him fuming with rage. Is it because he knows he has already won?

“He will always be a threat to our family for as long as he lives. You know that.” He reminds you, “It’s time to end it. Aren’t you tired of this?”

You are, so very tired. So tired you can’t reciprocate the kiss Beomgyu initiates, prompting him to pull back to look you in the eyes. And that’s when you realize why he’s being so sweet. He’s afraid he’s going to lose you again. He’s afraid that Taehyun’s death will make you withdraw into yourself again. He’s been keeping you as far away from the war as he possibly could so you wouldn’t fully fathom the gravity of it all, but now that it’s ending, there is no escape from the heavy price.

When it comes down to it, is it going to be him or Taehyun you’re going to protect?

“I love you.” He tells you urgently and waits for you to say it back, his eyes swimming with fear and uncertainty, his soul just about to drown in them. His soul, your other half, how could you possibly let it sink?

“I love you too.” You finally say it, and his sigh of relief is like a drowned man’s first gasp for breath after being revived, quickly followed by more and more.

“I love you. I love you.” He sobs, smothering you with kisses that you swallow down eagerly.

He makes love to you, needy and scared, clinging onto you tight enough to leave room for nothing but his whispered confessions and pleas for yours.

"Say you love me." He begs urgently, craving it more than his building release.

"I love you." You blabber, your own ears not able to distinguish your words from the pathetic sobs as his hips smack against yours feverishly, but he hears them.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again. Please."

"I love you."

"Only me."

"Only you."

Beomgyu doesn’t let you breathe in anything that isn’t him. He surrounds you everywhere–his heat, his scent, his heartbeat… it all blends together and flows into you, uniting your being with his so tightly you don’t know where you end and he begins.

_____________________________________

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” You whisper to the man behind you in an effort to not wake up the sleeping baby laying in his crib in front of you–your baby, your little prince.

“Is he?”

That voice.

You immediately whip around, fear gripping your heart as you come face to face with the man you once called your husband.

“Taehyun!” You stammer, reaching your arms out to try to protect your baby from him but when you hazard a glance back, he’s not there.

“Where is he? You ask, panicked.

“I could’ve given you a child. That baby should’ve been mine.”

Tears spring to your eyes at his words. “Please, give him back.”

But he ignores your plea, advancing on you. You try to move away but your legs don’t obey you. They keep you rooted to the spot as he comes closer and cradles your face in his hand. “Why did you leave me?”

"I wanted to protect you." You attempt to answer, but your uncertainty is evident even to him.

"Did you?" You look away guiltily but he turns your head back towards him. "Did you also give him a child to protect me? Are you going to let him kill me to protect me?"

"I tried to stop him but I failed. You saw what happened. I always mess up. I don't know what to do, Taehyun." You cry, but Taehyun isn’t Beomgyu, and he isn’t going to coddle you no matter how much you cry and whimper. "That's not an excuse."

“I know, I–” He kisses you, shutting up your worthless justifications. Once again you can’t move. You have to stand there and let him devour your lips, his kisses harsh and angry.

So you focus on gathering all the strength in your body, an effort so immense just to take a step back and beg, "Stop."

He hears you and he pulls away, but only enough to talk, his lips brushing against yours as he does. "Why?”

“I’m married to Beomgyu.”

That makes him laugh darkly. “That didn’t stop you before. You cheated on me. What does it matter if you cheat on him too? That's what you do."

You try to shake your head but he has your hair all fisted in his hand. “Don’t deny it. You want to be fucked, I know. Maybe if I had fucked you enough before, you wouldn’t have ran after his dick.”

He rips your dress from your body, tearing it away the same way he did when you wore that dress Wonyoung got you, and with the same disdain. “I hate these fucking dresses.” He growls, “But you love them, don’t you? It’s another reason why you crawled back to him. I tried to give them to you, lost my fucking eye over it, but you couldn’t even give me some more time.”

“That’s not why I left.” You deny, but that just makes him angrier.

“Don’t lie to me. You know what I do to liars.” He hisses, grabbing your chin and digging his fingers into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open for him to kiss. He coaxes your tongue out, sucking on it before grazing it with his sharp teeth, making you shiver with both fear and lust.

Are you lying? If you aren’t then why are you letting Beomgyu kill Taehyun? Why haven’t you killed him when you had the chance?

Because you love him. Because you can’t live without him. Because he’s the father of your child. Because even though he is wicked, you could do so much good together, help so many people, live the rest of your life trying to atone for the horrible sins you've committed.

But will you ever be forgiven?

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyun asks, “Do you believe him when he tells you that everything will be okay when I'm gone, angel? Do you think you'll forget me when I die? You think he’ll ever forget that I had you when he can taste me on your lips? Even if he kills me, he’ll always know that you let me shove my cock inside your pretty mouth and your tight cunt.”

“Taehyun!” You gasp. This was so unlike him–the possessiveness, the jealousy, the emotion.

“What? You like it when I talk to you like this? Treat you like the whore you are?” He grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you up, walking you towards the bed before throwing you on it and prowling up to cover you with his body. He looms over you. "And you, you think it won’t eat you up alive everyday knowing what you did to me?"

"Then kill me." You beg him and he laughs. Clearly you aren’t strong enough to hurt Beomgyu or yourself, but he is. He can end you. He can end this tortured existence. "No, you don't deserve the mercy of death. You deserve to live by that monster for the rest of your miserable life."

“Taehyun–ah!” You squeak as he rips your legs open.

“Look how wet you are. You really like this, don’t you?”

You bite your lip, trying to gather up your own emotions like precious gold, scared to show them to him lest he steal them away.

He scoffs at your silence. “Come on, angel, speak up. I can’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t talk. So speak up.” He mocks, his fingers gliding up and down your spread pussy, his eyes falling to your hole as it flutters around nothing.

His fingers tease around your entrance as his gaze flicks back up to you, harsh and angry, before he slams his fingers inside you, making your mouth fall open in a sharp cry. “Speak up, bitch.”

“I’m sorry.” You weep, not knowing what else to say as his fingers ram into you, much too fast and hard. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”

“Are you? Are you really?” He tilts his head to the side jeeringly, but you nod earnestly. “I am. I am.”

“If all that’s going to come out of that pretty mouth is lies then maybe you shouldn’t talk.”

“W-what–hmph!” He stuffs his fingers that were just in your pussy into your mouth, choking you on your own taste.

"You never loved me. You used me.” He spits out bitterly, and you feel his cock prodding at your entrance before it breaches your hole in one stroke. “You killed me."

Suddenly, Taehyun looks different, his clean, white skin covered in nasty cuts and bruises, a hideous gash extending across his neck, dripping warm blood onto your naked body.

Overcome with the urge to throw up at the sickening sight, you close your eyes tightly, hoping to dispel the gruesome image, but he screams at you to look at him, not letting you escape what you did.

“Look at me. Look at me! Look what you did.”

You cry as you shake your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. Or maybe it was blood.

"Don't cry." He screams at you as he continues to fuck you, uncaring about the pain he’s causing you or the blood that drains from his body. "You fucking killed me, you bitch."

You shake your head harder, unable to speak with the fingers buried deep in your mouth, the tips of them hitting the back of your throat and making you choke on something that didn’t taste like you anymore. No, it tasted metallic and nauseating.

"Don’t cry." A voice shouts in your ear, much more vivid and clear this time. It feels more real than everything else and the shock of it allows you to finally, finally, spit the fingers out, sputtering out repeated No’s as your whole body spasms with cold dread.

“Please, stop crying.” It tells you again, surprisingly gentle and worried. “Calm down, baby. I’m here. Please, princess!”

Princess?

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of this void of agony and despair you’ve been plunged into. Blinking away your tears, the ghastly visage of your past lover slowly loses its crimson discoloration as it morphs into the terrified face of your husband, tears of his own streaking down his flushed cheeks as he gazes at you in horror.

“Beomgyu?” You croak, voice scratchy and strained. “W-what’s happening?”

“You were having a nightmare, baby.” He explains, sniffling.

“Why are you crying?” You ask, cupping his cheek and weakly wiping his sparkling tears away.

“You were making all those noises, like you were being choked, and I–I was so worried.” He whimpers, leaning into your touch. “It’s so stupid. You’re the one who was having the nightmare, but I was so scared because I couldn’t get you to wake up. I couldn’t reach you in there.” He breaks out into a loud sob at the last part, lips trembling as he relives the terror.

“I was scared too.” You whisper, pulling him tightly against you as if the physical proximity would allow him to protect your soul from further attack.

Is this what your life is going to be like from now on? Plagued by nightmares of what you and your lover did? Getting trapped in a ghoulish dreamland where Beomgyu can’t reach you to comfort you? Is this your divine punishment?

______________________________

Taehyun is here. He is here to give himself up to appease Beomgyu’s wrath and save everyone else. He’s here to die so you can get your happily ever after.

And here Beomgyu is, getting dressed in his ceremonial armor to personally carry out the execution of the man whose only sin was briefly making you his.

You get dressed too, your attire blood-red just like Beomgyu’s so you wouldn’t be able to see any of the blood that might splatter in the aftermath of today’s abomination.

"Don't make it hurt.” You plead your lover, and Beomgyu snaps his head to look at you with equal parts fury and imploration–half a mad king and half a child begging for something he wants but knows he shouldn’t have. "Let me take my vengeance on him."

"You're decimated his army, brought him to the ground, and now you’re going to take his life. What more do you need?” You press your hands against the gold of his breastplate, seeking the heartbeat you know is under there. “Just give him a quick death. Get it over with. Please, for me."

He looks into the distance, the request not sitting well with him, but he didn’t shoot you down immediately which tells you that he’s at least considering it.

“Fine.” He says at long last and your knees buckle in relief under you as if you had managed to save Taehyun. “You don’t have to come, you know?”

“I thought you said you would kill him in front of my eyes.” You remind him of his own words and he gives you a weary look. “I was mad when I said that. I never want to intentionally hurt you.”

You laugh wistfully at his claim. What he means is that he never wants to hurt you in a way that wouldn't benefit him, and he knows that seeing him personally kill Taehyun might be too much even for you.

This has always been Beomgyu’s method–keep you away from the battlefield so you’d forget all about his monstrous actions. But you owe this to Taehyun. If you’re the reason he’s losing his life then the least you could do is look him in the eye during his final moments and face all the hate he has for you.

“I have to come.”

“My queen–”

“I chose you. You owe me this.” You snap at him and he recoils, shoulders slumping. He’s so anxious about ending this that he doesn’t have the energy to protest much “Yes, darling.”

________________________

If you thought Kai looked bad, then Taehyun looks like he already has one foot beyond the veil. You’ve never seen him look so small, stripped of his leather and armor, his muscles–though never remarkably big–wasting away from malnourishment and the stress of war, what appears of his skin bruised and discolored, and his hair cut in a blunt style so as not to obstruct the vision in his one good eye.

Dear god, his eyes.

He's not even wearing the black enamel anymore, a hollow socket left in its place surrounded by darkened skin, giving you a glimpse of what he will look like once the crows have picked out the other eye. After all, dead men have no use for sight.

But for now, he sees, looking at you with that singular, stormy eye of his, and you don’t know how you missed it before–perhaps it got diluted in the middle back when both were intact, and then was overshadowed by the black orb he put in-but you see so much emotion there now, intensified enough by the singular outlet for you to finally perceive.

Anger, pride, regret, disappointment, fear… and so much more that you can't begin to untangle, so much that will be silenced forever when his vision goes dark.

His gaunt face had been so startling to behold that you almost missed the necklace wrapped around his neck… a pearl necklace, your necklace!

W-What? Why? Why is he wearing that? What is he trying to do?

You ponder it for a second, eyes jumping around the room in a confused frenzy, before they land on Beomgyu’s sword, and you’re immediately hit with a sickening realization–he’s showing the world who is behind his death. You are. You did this to him.

Suddenly, you see him as you saw him in your dream, wounded and bloody. You see Beomgyu standing over his corpse, triumphant. And it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees.

He doesn't deserve this. It had been so exhausting for you to fight your short battle before you gave in and ran back to your captor, but Taehyun has been fighting all his life. He never gave up, never flinched back no matter the horror he was facing. He even fought for you when you couldn't be bothered to fight for yourself. And yet here you are, preparing to watch him die for the sin of choosing to help you when he should have turned away like all the others.

No act of kindness goes unpunished.

You shake your head, a few bitter tears getting dislodged in the process and burning down your cheeks.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu recounts to the crowd of noble men and women gathered the crimes he has fabricated for Taehyun, his only real crime standing there for all to gawk at.

It has to be done. You think as you watch the proud man being forced to his knees, his head lowered down so his pearled neck could receive the royal sword’s fatal kiss. Still, he attempts to look at you, raising his face up to pin you under his gaze the same way the guards are pinning him to the floor.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu, enraged that Taehyun even dares to look at you, grabs him by the back of the head and shoves his face back down. But once again, Taehyun looks up at you.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu angrily unsheathes his sword and doesn't even ask Taehyun for his last words.

It has to be done.

Gods help you for what you're about to do.

It's easy for you to slip past the guards flanking your side. You’ve proven yourself loyal to Beomgyu and so they forsake watching you in favor of watching the deadly dance of their king and the reviled warlord.

You didn't expect to do this, you contemplate as your legs that were so heavy before carry you easily towards Beomgyu, as if walking on air, your arms solidly brandishing the dagger you had been gifted by the man on his knees.

Taehyun is the only one to react to your sudden movement, eyes widening as he gasps.

Or maybe he’s the only one you can see or hear, because suddenly Beomgyu is turning around to face you, startled. It all happens slowly, so painfully slowly. You can see the concern on his face first, followed by shock when he sees the dagger glinting in the sunlight, and then pain erupts across his beautiful face as the dagger plunges itself into his chest.

You let out a pained wail even before he does.

"I'm sorry." You choke out, your fingers grasping the hilt of the dagger in a death-grip as if you could take it back. As if you can undo what you've done. "I'm so sorry."

You hear people running behind you but Beomgyu barks at them. “Don’t touch her!”

They immediately still, clueless as to what to do as everyone else is in this court of madness. As clueless as you are.

Oh, gods, what have you done?

“Hey, it’s okay. Don't cry.” Beomgyu murmurs softly, braving the pain to comfort you. Always comforting you even as your knife is buried in his chest. “I hate seeing you cry."

That just makes you cry harder. You’ve made a terrible mistake. "Beomgyu, I–"

Your eyes widen as you’re cut off by a sharp pain that overwhelms your senses, and you look down to see Beomgyu's sword jutting out from your abdomen. You look up at him in confusion, not grasping what you’re seeing. Beomgyu would never hurt you like this. He would never. "Beomgyu?"

But if the excruciating pain radiating from the sword protruding from your belly isn’t making it clear enough, then the horrified screams of Wonyoung does. "What have you two done?!"

You also hear an anguished shout of your name, followed by a commotion and what sounds like someone being restrained.

But you don’t look at any of them. You only look at the man in front of you–your lover, your soulmate, your killer.

"Shhh. It's going to be okay.” He hushes your pitiful cries. “I'm not going to leave you. Never again."

Of course. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu promised to never let you go, and he’s not going to break that promise even in death.

"I love you." He murmurs, pressing a tight, pained kiss to your lips.

"I love you too." You say helplessly. You deserve it all. You deserve him. You harbored this monster, loved and nourished him, reveled in all the twisted pleasures he gave you, hid between his sharp claws that were sullied by the blood of others. So how can you expect a different end to such a despicable existence?

"I'll find you in our next life." He vows to you, smiling as if it were your wedding day again. "I'll get it right next time. I promise you."

Next time? The thought sends a chill down your spine.

No, please, let this be the end. You love him endlessly and tirelessly. The sun might grow sick of the day sky, the waves might abandon their shores, mothers might forsake their young, but you’d never stop loving Beomgyu.

But you can’t do this again. Please, let your souls intertwine and become a distant star, far away from everyone and everything, together forever or until the lights in the heavens go out. But not this again.

"It looks like you hit my heart. How ironic is that?" Beomgyu lets out a shuddering laugh before he kisses you again sluggishly. "Don't keep me waiting for long. I’ll miss you. I love you."

“Beomgyu, I–”

He slumps forward, falling limply into your arms.

Wonyoung shrieks, running towards you and taking him from your paralyzed grip. “Call the palace physician. Get him here now!”

The whole court springs into action, trying to save their king and queen. But you know it’s no use. He’s already dead. You know he’s dead. You can’t feel his soul anymore, and you know that soon, you will be too.

______________

You’re not dead yet. How could you not be dead yet when half your soul is already rotting away? Why are you still clinging onto this miserable world that has lost all its color and beauty with the departure of your loved one? The gods must truly enjoy your suffering to want to prolong it this much.

When the door creaks open, your dying heart gives a weak thump, still foolishly hoping it would somehow be Beomgyu on the other side, back to tell you that he’s okay after all, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be, and that he forgives you for what you had done.

But it wasn’t Beomgyu. No, because you killed him.

It was Taehyun, who now seems to resemble death itself, and for a second you wonder if the gods were playing a particularly cruel joke on you by having your collector take on the form of the man you had betrayed and betrayed the love of your life for.

“Taehyun?” You ask shakily, growing more anxious the longer he hesitates at the door. Startled by your voice, he finally moves, walking towards you with trepidation in his step that is entirely too human. “I’m here.”

He takes your hands in his and you stare down at them, feeling the chasm in your heart pulsating hideously at the touch as if in protest.

"You saved me." He breathes out incredulously, like he can’t believe it. You can’t believe it too.

"You deserve to live." You tell him, matter of fact. Everyone got what they deserved.

"So do you." He proclaims and you smile wistfully. Oh, Taehyun.

"What is going to happen to you now?" You ask him, brushing off his misguided declaration and he frowns, considering whether to push his point or just answer your question.

For now, he answers your question. "I don't know but princess Wonyoung–well, I should say queen Wonyoung now--is allowing me and Kai to return home if we agree to a ceasefire. I don't think she cares about continuing the war anymore. Neither do we."

"Right." With Beomgyu dead and you to follow him, what else is there to fight about?

"It won't be easy dealing with the fallout but–"

"But it's better this way." You finish for him.

"No! How can it be better when I'm losing you?" His voice wavers and you look at him curiously. Is he going to cry for you? After all you’ve done?

"Don't cry over me. I don’t deserve it. I loved him."

"He tricked you. He–"

You squeeze his hands firmly, or as firm as your dwindling strength allows, stopping his empathetic excuses. "I still loved him and you know that. You don’t have to pretend like I’m blameless just because I’m dying. It isn't like you."

"I just…" He trails off, staring down at your joined hands uselessly.

"I still loved him… I loved him and he killed our baby. He didn’t want me to live if he wasn’t going to have me.” You pause, letting out a tired laugh. It was never about protecting your child after all. It was about keeping you. “You know what the sad thing is? I wouldn’t have wanted to live without him either, but he didn’t even give me the choice. He never did.”

Taehyun stays silent and you wonder what is going on inside his head. He must think you’re stupid for expecting anything else from Beomgyu. He must think you deserve it now. He must find you abhorrent for saying you would have killed yourself if Beomgyu hadn’t.

"You should go." You sigh, the breath coming out harder now.

But to your surprise, he shakes his head. “No. I won’t go.” He says, taking out the pearl necklace he was wearing at his failed execution. "I am not going to leave you alone."

He leans forward, trying to wrap the necklace around your neck but you lift your hand up and push it down, shaking your head.

"I won't be alone." You say and he looks at you in confusion. "I'll be with him."

His face changes into the contemptuous expression you've been expecting all this time. "You're choosing him again? I can't even win against his corpse?" He spits out bitterly, taking the necklace back and shoving it in his pocket.

"I killed him for you. What more do you want?” You ask him tiredly. Haven’t you already made the ultimate sacrifice for him? Is even this not enough? Can’t you spend your last moments on alive with the one person who loved you? The person you betrayed for Taehyun? The person who is now cold and stiff on his deathbed, waiting for you to warm him up or grow cold next to him.

He’s so, so cold…

“You know you never even said you loved me once?"

“I did–” He protests but you cut him off. “You’ve never said I love you and meant it.”

He opens his mouth and you hold your breath, the world stilling around you.

Do you want to hear it? Would it make anything better? It would only dig the knife of what could’ve been deeper. What use is it now?

But you do want to hear it. You want to believe that you could’ve had someone else’s love, that you could’ve deserved more than what Beomgyu dictated for you.

But then he shuts his mouth again, furiously wiping away his tears as if it disgusted him to have any evidence of them left.

"Go, Taehyun. I don't want to spend my last few hours on this earth doubting if I am worthy of love or not. At least he loved me. He's the only one who ever did."

And so he leaves–storming away angrily and slamming the door behind him, but he leaves. He always leaves.

Isn’t it time for you to die yet?

In the wake of Taehyun’s furious exit and behind your useless tears, you see Wonyoung enter, a vision of an angel as she floats down towards your deathbed.

"Is there any way I could make you more comfortable?" She asks softly.

"Why are you so nice to me? I killed your brother."

She shakes her head, always so patient despite her grief. "He killed himself when he started all of this."

You don’t get her. How can she be so fine with this when the weight of what you’ve done is killing you faster than the sword they took out of you. "Aren't you angry at me?"

"What use is being angry? Is it going to bring him back?" She asks, finally letting a little edge creep out in her voice, but she quickly reins it back in. "My brother made a lot of mistakes, some he was driven to and some by his own volition, and they all led to where he is right now. It is no use to dwell on it. Why spend your last hours making you answer for sins you've committed together? For sins I was a part of. I killed him as much as you did when I encouraged his unhealthy obsession."

You fall silent for a while, considering her words. She’s right. What use is it dwelling on any of this and leaving him alone? You’re going to die soon so you might as well let go of your guilt. The gods will make you answer for your crimes whether you feel sorry about them or not.

"I want to be with him." You finally say and she nods. “He’d like that.”

__________________

They take you to him, laying you both down on your bed before leaving you alone with only a single candle burning on the bedside table. It’s good. Your souls need the peace.

You look up at your lover’s deathly visage and frown. He used to be so expressive, in happiness, in love, in anger, in madness… never was there such a lively spirit as his, but as you look at him now, you find nothing but emptiness that resounds in your very core. It chills you to the bone as you curl up tighter around him, chasing a warmth that isn’t there anymore.

You don't know what will become of the others now. Will the war really end? Is Wonyoung going to be a good queen? Will Taehyun get remarried? How will Beomgyu be remembered in a hundred years? Will you both be wiped out from the history books?

You hope so. The oblivion of death can’t come soon enough.

Mercifully, you can feel the drug Wonyoung had given you making its way from your faltering heart to your collapsing veins, pulling you into a slumber you know you won’t be waking from.

You smile at the thought, leaning up to kiss the corner of Beomgyu’s lips before whispering one last “I love you.”

And with that, you finally let go.

______________________

A/N: well, it's finally over. make sure to let me know what you thought of the end or i will cry. lol jk but i really really appreciate all the feedback. thank you all for coming on this journey with me. i definitely wouldn't have been able to finish this fic if it weren't for all your support ❤️

and now, click on this link to see the future fics i have in store and vote on your favorite one. the one you pick will be the one i write!

#txt smut #yandere smut #tomorrow x together smut

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writingquestionsanswered · 8 months ago

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So I'm writing historical fiction, set in Medieval Eastern Rome. My problem is that most characters share the same few names. Even family names and titles lack diversity. I can't really change them, since they are historical, so it gets very confusing when you have 5 characters named Alexios, 2 of which share a family name and title. How do I deal with this?

Characters with Same Name in Historical Fiction

So, here's where a few things are going to come in handy...

1 - The "Fiction" part of "historical fiction." - Since you're not writing non-fiction, you have the abilities to take liberties for the sake of the story you're trying to tell, which includes the purpose of clarity.

2 - Understanding naming conventions - Every language and culture have their own conventions surrounding given names, nicknames, clan names, diminutives, and patronymics... so it's important to understand how these worked in the time and setting of your historical fiction. Because even if we know a historical person as Phineas Smythe, that doesn't mean he was known that way back in the day. He might instead have been known as Phineas Smythson.

3 - Understanding Anglicization - This is another one that can play a big role, because (for example) Phineas is the Anglicized version of Phinehas, so maybe back in the day, he was known not as Phineas Smythe as we know him, but as Phinehas Smythson.

All of this is important to know because it can help you come up with ways of differentiating same-named characters without completely renaming them. So, let's say for example your story spans a century, and you have two Phineas Smythes... a grandfather and his grandson. If you dig into the naming conventions and find that the older Phineas Smythe actually went by Phinehas Smythson, that immediately differentiates the two characters. Alternatively, you might learn that a common diminutive in the older Phineas's time and place was to add the affix "-ian" to a male name. So he could have gone by Phinian Smythe while his grandson just goes by Phineas Smythe.

Nicknames in general can be a handy way of differentiating two same-named historical characters, even if you have to take liberties to get there. Maybe the older Phineas Smythe went by Finny. Or maybe he was called "Bear" because of his bear-like size. Or, maybe he didn't but you say he was for the sake of clarity.

When you're not dealing with different generations, another option is to combine people. For example, maybe you have two Phineas Smythes who are minor courtiers of the king, but one Phineas has a bigger role in the story. Can you just combine them into one person instead of having two? Again, because this is historical fiction, it doesn't have to be 100% accurate... it's not non-fiction. You want to be as accurate as possible, and make sure your changes don't change things too much or completely garble someone's understanding of an historical event. But, ultimately, you're writing fiction based on history so you need to prioritize clarity over fact.

I hope something here will help you clarify between these same named characters. ♥

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raayllum · 6 months ago

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I’m sorry how is arc 2 not about aaravos? Everything about the show leads back to aaravos. The whole lore of the show is centered around aaravos. And it is absolutely titled the mystery of aaravos because it does plan on dealing with the mystery of aaravos in every possible way, and that has infact been confirmed by the showrunners on multiple instances. Aaravos is just as, if not more of a main character than rayllum in the ways that count because everything going on revolves around him.

And since he’s an EXTREMELY important character, how is it not justified for fans of him to want more screen time of him?

I’m sorry but not everything about the show revolves around rayllum and you shouldn’t call people out just for wanting to see more of their favorite character.

God forbid something about aaravos is actually about aaravos and not rayllum for once 💀💀

Actually I can and do call people out for wanting to see more of their favourite character when it causes them to be entitled / unfair to the broader story they want to tell. If you haven't been doing those things, then that post wasn't about you, but given the way you put your best foot forward here, I might go out on a limb and guess this might be behaviour you display sometimes, and it may be worth reconsidering.

As a bit of background:

My favourite character in a TV show was once a side character who was in 1/4 seasons, and one episode in the final season, and then he never showed up again. which was Okay, because he was a Side Character and it would've been pretty silly for the show to bend over backwards to include him more. Granted, there were opportunities (him and another character were travelling together, then she showed up at a Plot Relevant location without him and it was never addressed) but the show wasn't bad or wrong for not including more. I wasn't owed more screen time just because he was my favourite character, and while any character can Technically be Levelled Up for more screen time and plot relevance, sometimes characters are just there to serve more minor specific purposes, and that's Okay. It's all about adjusting your own expectations and not being an asshole.

Furthermore, given that I posted my personal opinion on my personal blog and only used my personal tags for it, you had two options for finding this post:

It got sent to you, presumably meaning you had someone else to be salty with in a private manner that would've been far more appropriate

You follow(ed) me, in which case you are more than encouraged to unfollow or block me if I have a post/opinion you find annoying or uncouth. Please do so rather than doing whatever This Is in my inbox in the future, it'll likely save you not only time but also embarrassment

The fact you thought going into the inbox of a Virtual Stranger and getting upset about me not thinking your favourite character is the Most Important Character in TDP Ever — because he isn't — in one (1) post is truly baffling to me in terms of 1) curating your internet experience and 2) interacting appropriately with strangers directly online. I've seen a lot of shit opinions in my day, and I vent in private to my fandom friends about it 99.9% of the time, thank you very much, or post about it in my personal tags on my own blog rather than making it someone else's problem.

In the nature of analysis / debate, though, let me clear what I meant considering 4+ people got their trousers in a twist about the idea that Aaravos isn't a main character.

That said, a few quick disclaimers: Aaravos is a very interesting character to me, and I like him a lot. I've written a fair bit about him in regards to how he's a thematic opposite to Harrow, his view of children, what I think happened to his chest piece, speculation on his banishment, his parallels to Finnegrin, his mythic connections to aspects of the Fae + Egyptian and Greek mythology, his foil relationship to Rayla, his characterization and motifs/symbols. So it's not as though I don't enjoy him or don't think he's important to the story. He is, he's just not a main character nor the most important. Moving on:

Secondly: it seems maybe my meaning of macguffin is getting misconstrued. A story Macguffin is a plot device that drives the story forward. Sometimes it's a character (R2D2 in star wars has to be transported from one dangerous location to safety because he has blue print plans), sometimes it's an object (the one ring, fetch quests, etc). Either way, the story is centralized around 1) characters competing for ownership or safe guarding of said person/thing and 2) through that competition or competing needs, the characterization of the main cast is revealed.

In Arc 1, Zym is the plot Macguffin. He overall has very little personality even once hatched beyond being sweet, occasionally helpful, and scared. He is the titular character, and his existence matters, but mostly because he serves as a motivational point for the characters. Claudia, Soren, and Viren want to stop Zym from getting back to Xadia; Rayla, Callum, and Ezran, want to help him get back.

Zym himself does not drive episodes forward. He rarely makes decisions that impact the main group. His existence or fears cause them to make decisions (they go looking for help because they dropped his egg; Rayla and Callum have to go after Nyx because she stole him) but he is not likewise making decisions for the group. S4 definitely levelled Zym up into him making 1) more independent decisions and 2) having more of his own interior feelings, particularly about his father, but Callum is the one who decides to send him up into the trees; Ezran is the one calling the meeting for Zym to come to Katolis. A couple of exceptions (he has a mini arc about his mom for 2 eps, he has an arc in s2 with Ezran) do not suddenly make Zym a "I'm making decisions that heavily push the plot forward every episode" kind of character.

You'll also note, if you actually read said post you're referencing, that I specified "'the mystery of aaravos' (esp these past two seasons)" and that I never mentioned lore, either, even if I have likewise written about lore extensively (one of my more recent metas on it was about 4.8k words on lore alone, for example).

Aaravos' plot impact was a lot heavier in S2 and particularly S3 than it is in S4 or S5, as he influenced Viren's decisions more heavily and eventually came into more direct conflict with the core protagonists. This is likewise reflected in Aaravos in S2 and S3 being in multiple episodes (half the season in s2, and almost every episode at least a little in s3).

Meanwhile in Arc 2, Aaravos could effectively, unknown to his pawns drop dead after giving Claudia her final instructions pre-S4, and nothing would be affected plot wise, because Arc 2 thus far has mostly been characters fearing his impending release (the main cast) or dealing with the fallout of his actions from S3 (the Sunfire elf plot line). The only thing we'd lose on that level from a "Claudia believes Aaravos is alive and is trying to free him, but he's not actually" is Callum and Rayla's possession plot line, ironically enough given your apparent dislike of them, until the very very end of 5x09 in which he tries to goad Viren into killing SS.

I'm excited for and expecting that to change in S6 and S7, but that doesn't change what S4 and S5 currently are, either. Same thing for Amaya and Janai more so being main characters, Janai in particular, in S4 and S5, but they were not main characters in the first three seasons. That doesn't mean they're not good, meaningful, and important characters for the story, but I'd be a very poor meta writer / have very poor media literacy if I tried to claim that Janai is a main character in arc 1 over say, Callum.

For another example: everything in Avatar: The Last Airbender revolves around Team Avatar wanting to stop Ozai, but Ozai is not a main character in the show. He's there to be a minor character, an endgame big bad, and to affect his children / embody the conflict the characters are up against. The fact that TDP has so many antagonists that are also Main Characters throughout the whole show (Viren, Claudia) is actually pretty rare in media, particularly for children.

The Legend of Zelda games usually revolve around Link wanting to save or free Zelda, and while certain games flesh her out and make her more developed into a main character, the central character of the narrative is Link, because he's the character we follow the most.

Additionally, the Importance of a character in a narrative has no bearing on whether they're your favourite, or even necessarily whether they're a 'good' / 'well written' character. Rayla, for example, is my personal #1 favourite character in TDP. She is a main character; she is not The main character. That's not an insult to Rayla; she's there to be a foil, one hell of a narrative lancer, and our main elven character. But I can't (nor do I want to) magically change her role in the story to claim that it's something it isn't.

The central main character of TDP is Callum. It always has been, it always will be.

He is the character who shows up in every single episode, he's our central mage character in a show all about magic, he has the most developed relationships out of everyone, he is the POV character we follow the most. That doesn't mean he's your favourite, that doesn't mean he has to be your preference, you don't even have to like him. But he is The Main Character. The majority of the story revolves around him and the people in his life. No amount of liking another character more is going to change that, whether you're clamouring for Rayla, Aaravos, Sol Regem or anyone else.

While there are shows where I think the side lining of characters feels off (Gus and Willow in The Owl House come to mind) that's mostly because 1) that sort of side lining usually happens to characters of colour, as it did there and 2) there's no real reason for the story to sideline them considering everyone lives in close proximity and there's a s1 emphasis that the main character has never had friends before and that she desperately wants some. Therefore, she should be thrilled to have best friends for the first time, but we barely see them. See the disconnect?

Aaravos is a minor character and big bad who is well utilized in the overall minimal screentime he has, especially thus far in S4 and S5. That doesn't mean he's not important to the story, and that doesn't mean he can't or shouldn't be your favourite, but your assertion doesn't miraculously make him our main core protagonist of the entire show, because 1) he's not our central pov character and 2) that's about the only requirement a main protagonist has to have, and 3) that's just not how stories work.

I also have no clue why you brought up Rayllum as a ship, given that I didn't mention them in my OG post at all, but given that you seem to think "this character isn't a main character" is a moral or value statement, I'll assume you said it to ruffle my feathers — that doesn't really work, given that I agree with you that not everything in the show is about Callum or Rayla individually or as a relationship, because it Isn't. Even if I hated them as characters or as a dynamic, however, that wouldn't change the fact that they're two of the core 3 characters (alongside Ezran) and that their relationship has the most screentime out of anyone in the show.

And if the show decided to tone down their screen time to give other characters more time, I'd be okay with that — because I don't need my Personal Favourite to be the most important character in the source material / screen time ever in order to feel secure in liking them, thanks.

#fandom nonsense #aaravos-brainrot #thanks for asking #or not

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chance-lard · 2 years ago

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Book!Lucy & Lockwood vs Show!Lucy & Lockwood: A VERY LONG Deep Dive

So I finished the Netflix adaptation of Lockwood & Co.

Overall, I think it was a respectful adaptation, which, despite some plot changes, kept largely to the spirit of the books. At minimum, Joe Cornish actually seems to like L&Co, which is way more than can be said about most adaptations these days. Hooray!

But I wanted to write a bit about one of the bigger changes they made: namely the dynamic between Lucy and Lockwood.

I’ve seen people saying that the Locklyle adaptation to screen was very true to the books, just without Lucy’s close personal voice, and sped up a little in the romance department (“Stroud doesn’t mention what Lucy was doing with her hands! They could have been on Lockwood’s face in the books!” etc).

Respectfully, I disagree quite a bit with this. While some argument could be made about it having shades of their relationship from THB/TCS onwards, I actually think Show!Lucy’s attitude towards Lockwood is a 180 from the way she views him in TSS and TWS.

IDK, this might be a bit of a controversial opinion judging by what I’ve been seeing in the L&Co tag and general ways people have interpreted TSS and TWS in the years since their publication, but I’m going to try to back my argument as best as I can, focusing only on those books.

I’m using the original paperback UK editions of both the Screaming Staircase (2013) and The Whispering Skull (2014).

Spoilers for the show and VERY mild spoilers for books 3+ (literally just the name of a new character/type of ghost + stuff already shown in the show that wasn’t shown until later in the books)

Another warning: this analysis is 5500(!!!) words long, and mostly quotes from the book. If you’d like to just read the main bits, look at the intro/conclusion to each section and read the TLDR; at the end.

PART 1: THE NETFLIX SHOW

Before diving into differences, there are things I do think stayed the same between the show and the books:

Lucy and Lockwood banter, swap one-liners and occasionally squabble.

Lucy remains unimpressed with some of Lockwood’s more slapdash schemes.

During missions, they work equally and trust each other with their lives and the job.

They care about each other’s wellbeing.

Basically, when things are going well between them, or when they are in high-stakes circumstances and need to cooperate, there isn’t too much of a difference between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle.

But as Tolstoy (lmao) says, all happy families agents are alike, all unhappy families agents are unique in their own way. With that said, I think the differences between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle are best explored through the way conflicts are handled.

In the show, there are 5 major arguments between Lucy and Lockwood:

Episode 2: Lucy feels upset and hurt because she thinks Lockwood only views her as an “asset”.

Episode 4: Lucy is upset that Lockwood doesn’t believe/doesn’t want to admit that she is talented enough to talk to the Skull

Episode 5: Lucy gets mad at Lockwood being self-sacrificing/death-seeking after they escape from the Winkmans.

Episode 7: Lucy calls Lockwood a boy with a “cold dead heart of stone”, and is upset that he won’t let her and George in on his past.

Episode 8: Lucy is furious at Lockwood using dangerous methods at the auction, that “every relic hunter in London is out to kill us”, and that Lockwood is acting self-sacrificially again.

There are also the following minor squabbles:*

Episode 1: Lucy rolls her eyes at Lockwood for forgetting the chains at Mrs Hope’s house.

Episode 1: Lucy mad at Lockwood and George for the toothbrush cup initiation test.

Episode 2: Lockwood gets annoyed and brusque with Lucy for keeping Annabel’s source and trying to communicate with her ghost. After Lucy is nearly possessed, he flintily tells her he will burn the source, and that they have more important bills to pay.

*Note there might be some more minor squabbles, but they weren’t significant enough to make their way into my notes

The most important takeaway here is that Lucy is the one who initiates most of the arguments! We can also note Lockwood’s response to Lucy’s anger: mostly he mutely self-reflects as she shouts and storms away, then later he comes to her to apologise and promises to do better.

The one time Lockwood gets mad at Lucy (Ep 2) we are a) not shown the bulk of the argument (there’s a cutaway after the fight with the ghost to Lucy justifying herself), b) it’s anger born of worry, and c) Cameron’s delivery of the lines is quite measured and muted.

In essence, when it comes to conflict, Lucy is the one holding the cards in the relationship between the two of them.

We also know the show is set much earlier than the books (which take place over the span of a whole year). Show!Lucy isn’t acting this way out of concern for a Lockwood who she’s known and loved for ages. Rather, Lockwood is someone she is not impressed by at all from the outset. The show is setting up what makes Lucy special here: unlike the adults, the other agents, and maybe even George, she’s the only one who can see through his “prodigious entrepreneur” mythos to the hurting teenager beneath.

Within the logic of the show’s universe this makes sense. Unlike Book!Lucy who is a judgemental grump (and is why she has “no female friends”; TWS p80), Show!Lucy is a more confident girl coming right off the back of losing someone she loves dearly.

Having experienced an arguably greater loss than Book!Lucy at this stage in her life, Show!Lucy seems adamant to prevent anyone else she cares about going down the same path. For Book!Lucy, this is a realisation she only comes to near the end of THB.

So to summarise, in the show, Lucy is a hurting, no-nonsense girl, unimpressed with Lockwood’s antics and objective enough to act as his “chain to earth”. From the way Lockwood responds to Lucy’s upsets, we get the sense that he’s quite sincere and maybe more in touch with his emotions than he shows on the surface.

The show portrays two people gradually learning to trust each other and perhaps slowly, mutually discovering their feelings as they do.

PART 2: BOOK: ACTIONS

The show uses disagreements as watersheds for character development, but they don’t play as significant a role in the books. Still, I went through TSS and TWS and made notes of every time there’s conflict between Lucy and Lockwood because the differences are quite telling.

TSS:

Lucy is mildly irritated/snarky at Lockwood for the entirety of the Hope case in TSS, and is angry when he forgets to bring the chains.

Lucy is angry at Lockwood for talking about the Annabel case and getting her name in the papers (TSS, 231)

Lockwood gets angry and berates Lucy for keeping the Annabel source (TSS, 179-181)

Lockwood calls Lucy “too sensitive” and accuses her of getting too close to ghosts (TSS, 248-249)

Lockwood is furious at Lucy for trying to talk to Annabel again (TSS, 284)

TWS:

Lockwood angry at Lucy for talking about the door on the landing (TWS, 116)

Lucy angry at Lockwood (and George) for taking her Listening for granted (TWS, 258)

Lucy scolds Lockwood for brushing off/slapping down George (TWS, 398)

Purely by numbers, they get mad at each other fairly evenly (rather than it being one-sided from Lucy, a la the show).

But numbers themselves don’t tell a full story. In fact, after looking at the particulars, I was surprised to see just how unbalanced their relationship is in the first 2 books (TSS in particular), and how much Lucy sits under Lockwood’s thumb for the whole thing.

Let’s look:

THE SCREAMING STAIRCASE

The Hope House - Lockwood forgetting to bring the chains.

This is the argument that plays out most similarly to how it does in the books. Lockwood asserts that filings “will be fine” for a job like this. In both mediums Lucy lets him go, but in the show she rolls her eyes and tuts, while in the books she tells herself “now (isn’t) the time”, takes a deep breath and changes the subject. In my opinion, this difference is insignificant.

BUT: in the book, the chains get brought up again. On p39, Lockwood suggests they should leave the house because it’s too dangerous, it is Lucy disagrees and thinks they should stay (as an aside, compare this with Lockwood’s behaviour in the show, particularly when escaping Winkman at the auction!).

Lockwood “condescendingly” tells her that her head isn’t in the right place, and Lucy once again accuses him of making bad decisions by leaving the chains out. Lockwood in turn first blames George (as he does in the show), then goes on to blame Lucy!

How the argument resolves is also interesting. Lockwood smiles at Lucy, and ribs her:

‘How’s your anger management going, Luce?’ (p40).

This effectively defuses Lucy’s rage (she likens his smile to “the sun coming out”).

Only after she’s no longer at the peak of her anger does he admit fault:

“He clapped his gloved hands together briskly. ‘Alright, you win'” (about staying at the house). (p40).

Even in the very first pages, we see Lockwood comporting himself as Lucy’s superior. We get the sense he doesn’t take her anger very seriously. Lucy also doesn’t seem to be able to stay mad at him for long.

Now, I've seen readings of Lockwood smiling in this moment as him being simply unable to stay mad at Lucy. That's definitely one interpretation, but I personally don't agree with it. Lockwood has a patterned habit of using his smile to get out of trouble:

“Lockwood took a deep breath; perhaps he realized he had to explain himself to George and me, as well as to Barnes…(Explanation). He switched on his fullest, most radiant smile.

Barnes winced. ‘Put those teeth away’” (TSS, p426)

And:

“‘Papers that almost certainly don’t exist,’ I growled…I didn’t look at him; if I had, he would have given me the smile, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.” (TWS, p258)

Though as we can see, by TWS Lucy has definitely wised up haha

Lucy’s name in the article

On paper, this argument is similar to the one in the show. The major difference is at no point in the books does Lucy explicitly tell Lockwood to keep her name out of the papers.

In the show, this argument leads to one of its biggest disagreements (Ep 2):

Lucy: I told you to leave me out of it.

Lockwood: And I told you I'd handle it. What are you so worried about? It's all true.

Lucy: We haven't even solved the case yet. What if Hugo Blake sees that and comes after me?

Lockwood: Well, then, we'll look after you, Luce. You're our biggest asset.

Lucy: Asset? Is that all I am, then? Just something to make you money? You think that you do things so differently. But you're just like the rest of them. You're as bad as everyone back home.

In the books, Lucy does not get angry when the article comes out (p217). She only gets upset after she’s pulled in by DEPRAC to see Hugo Blake. When the argument erupts, George is also there and it plays out like this (p232):

Lucy: “Don’t touch me. Because of your article, I came face to face with a murderer tonight, and funnily enough, I didn’t enjoy the experience.”

Lockwood: “Blake is not going to come after us”.

George: “Or if he does, it’ll be very, very slowly, hobbling on a stick. He’s over seventy years old.”

After Lockwood and George’s further justifications about why Blake is not going to “get them” (p232-233) Lucy thinks:

“What (Lockwood) said made sense, as usual. It was good to be out in the night again, with my sword and my colleagues at my side. The distress of my brief encounter at Scotland Yard was slowly fading. I felt a little better.”

We know from this that Lucy’s anger was one borne from worry and fear of Blake. By successfully alleviating that fear, Lucy’s anger at Lockwood dissipates. At no point is she mad at being treated as a showpony or asset by Lockwood. In fact, going back to when the article comes out (p 217), we’re presented with the following:

Lucy: “I still don’t know why you mentioned me but not the necklace.”

Lockwood: “It doesn’t hurt to emphasise what a star you are. We want other clients to come running, eager for your services.”

He doesn’t use the word “asset” here, but you can easily replace the word “star” with the word “asset" to get the original lines that triggered the argument in the show. To this statement, Book!Lucy has no reaction at all (the topic changes).

[As an aside, Lockwood also obliquely calls Lucy and George “inessential” on p214, which they also don’t comment on. Also, at various points he calls George and Lucy “fishwives” (p 272) and Lucy “sensitive” because she’s a girl (p 353) (lmaooo what an ass).]

Lockwood, Lucy and Annabel

I’m lumping these three arguments together because they follow the same pattern: Lucy tries to talk to Annabel, Lockwood gets upset that she keeps trying. What is absolutely fascinating is just how he treats Lucy when he is upset, and how Lucy responds to his anger in turn.

The first argument begins the morning after the fight. Lockwood says:

“Why, Lucy? I just don’t understand! You know an agent has to report any artefact she finds. Particularly one so intimately connected with a Visitor. They must be properly contained.” (p179)

He continues berating her like this (with a lot more anger than he ever displays on the show).

Lucy tries to apologise:

“Yes. I said I’m sorry! I’ve never done that sort of thing before.” (p180)

But Lockwood is still angry:

“So why did you do it now?”

Lucy spends the next page trying to explain why she took Annabel’s source, but even after her apologies and justifications, Lockwood is still furious:

“You forgot? That’s it? That’s your excuse?” (p 181)

The three of them talk a bit more about the mechanics of how Annabel ended up in the house, then when Lucy is in the middle of talking, Lockwood cuts her off again, and they have this whopper of an exchange:

“I hope you’re not trying to change the subject, Lucy,” Lockwood said in a cold voice. “I’m in the middle of ticking you off here.”

I set the case down. “I know.”

“I’m not finished, either. Not by a long chalk. I’ve got a whole heap more to say.” (Lockwood loses his train of thought here). “The point is: don’t do it again. I’m disappointed in you.”

Lucy meekly takes Lockwood’s lecture:

“I nodded. I stared at the tablecloth. My face felt cold and hot at the same time”

Lockwood’s one-sided lecture of Lucy lasts a whole five pages!!!

But he’s not done. It comes up again on p248 where Lockwood accuses Lucy of being 'too sensitive’ (in both the psychic and emotional way), and of getting “too close to (the ghosts)”. Then, in a 180 from the dynamics of power in the show (remember, Lucy threatens to quit several times), Lockwood threatens to fire her!

“You need to be careful, Lucy,” Lockwood said, and his voice was flat and cold. “Wicked ghosts aren’t things to trifle with. You’re keeping secrets again, and any agent who does that is endangering the rest of us. I’m not having anyone on my team who can’t be trusted. You understand what I’m saying?”

Again, Lucy takes this lecture meekly and submissively:

I did understand. I looked away.

In the final argument about the matter (p284) we learn that Lucy is actually a bit scared of Lockwood.

“You deliberately let her free?” Lockwood said. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

When I looked at his face, my heart quailed. “Not free,” I said desperately. “Just…freer.” (emphasis mine)

On p285 Lucy starts crying/tearing up because she thinks Lockwood:

“...Would not forgive me…this was the end of my employment at the company”.

Ordinarily, you might be able to argue that her fears are misplaced and subjective (because of her narrow perspective). This rings a little hollow given Lockwood’s threat on p248.

Does Lockwood ever apologise to Lucy during the Annabel affair? Once, when at his suggestion, Lucy tries to talk to Anabel, and things go awry:

“I’m so sorry. I should have never asked you to do that. What happened? Are you OK?” (p192)

It’s a sign that Lockwood does care about her wellbeing, despite his general distance from Lucy and the way he carries himself, which is as a figure of authority, and more importantly, as Lucy’s employer.

Seriously. We like to joke in this fandom that Lucy is too wrapped up in her own head thinking that Lockwood is out of her league to notice that he actually likes her. But reading the books again with detailed notes, I think Lucy’s impression is actually accurate.

In fact, writing this up sparked a memory of reading TSS for the first time (prior to the release of TWS), I remember thinking there wasn’t going to be a romance between Lucy and Lockwood. I couldn’t articulate it fully at the time, but I imagine it was because of how much older Lockwood seemed and how much control her asserts over her behaviour, combined with the way early book Lucy (to borrow Holly’s words from THB) “can’t say no” to Lockwood.

It is only by the end of TSS, does Lockwood finally say to her:

“I trust your Talent and your judgement and I’m very proud to have you on my team. OK? So stop worrying about the past!” (p436)

It’s still a tad condescending (think: praise from kindergarten teacher) but it’s a momentous occasion because as shown, prior to the Combe Carey Hall case, Lockwood seems to respect and trust her very little. This bookend leads nicely into their growing dynamic in TWS.

THE WHISPERING SKULL

Lucy, Lockwood and the skull in Bickerstaff’s manor:

By The Whispering Skull, Lucy and Lockwood’s relationship has evolved (which would make sense given the 6 months between books 1 and 2) and consequently the way they conflict has too. However, they still don’t ever reach the level of direct conflict they do in the show. Take what I consider to be Lucy’s biggest upset at Lockwood in the first 2 books:

On page 258, Lucy says:

“Forget it! What happened to us treading carefully, Lockwood? I’ve a good mind to go back home!”

Lockwood begs her to reconsider. Lucy remains angry. She says:

“You’re taking me for granted. Me and this house.”

However, it should be noted that although she mentions Lockwood by name, she’s actually angry at both Lockwood and George (yup, he’s there too). She calls them “both mad” for expecting her to agree to their scheme. She then stalks away from them in a rage, leaving “the others” (not just Lockwood) to follow.

In short, her anger isn’t directed at any particular trait of Lockwood’s (such as recklessness or foolhardiness), but rather at having been duped by both George and him. Nevertheless, it shows that she’s become more comfortable at expressing her anger in general by this point.

Lockwood’s door on the landing

As in the show, after the skull tells Lucy about Lockwood’s door, she confronts him about it.

In the show, after Lucy brings it up, Lockwood responds by diverting the subject:

Lockwood: That is not just a nick. You need to get that looked at. Could be some toxins got into your blood.

Then:

Lockwood: You're not Marissa Fittes.

Lucy: Cause you can't handle being my Tom Rotwell? Second best?

(This response is OOFT and also VERY Show!Lucy imo)

Another difference: in the show, Lockwood clearly believes Lucy, but doesn’t want to admit that she might be talented, because he’s used to being the most powerful one.

In the books, Lockwood just flat-out doesn’t believe her:

Lockwood lowered his mug; he spoke flintily. “Yes, I know (the door). The one you can’t stop asking about.” (p116)

He also calls her a “prima donna” (lmao LOCKWOOD).

Here, again, Lucy responds a bit more huffily than she probably would have in TSS:

We stood there, glaring at each other. (p117)

Lucy defends George

I think this argument, from page 398, though minor, nicely summarises Lockwood’s general attitude in conflict.

“Lockwood, we’ve been so blind! He’s desperate to investigate it. He’s been obsessed with it all this time. And you just kept criticising him, slapping him down.”

Lockwood responds at first by doing what he typically does (justify, accuse):

“Yes of course I did! Because George is always like that!...It’s just how he is! We couldn’t possibly have known.”

But compared to the chains argument in TSS where he deflects until the end, moments later:

His shoulders slumped. “You really think he’s affected by the ghost?”

Perhaps it’s because of the imminent danger George is in, but this time he takes Lucy’s anger seriously. Unlike the chains argument from the beginning of TSS, he doesn’t put on airs or “give permission” to Lucy when he senses he’s in the wrong. This way, they work together to prepare to get George back.

PART 3: BOOKS: THOUGHTS

“Wait,” you say, “Doesn’t this just prove that the show is like the books? Sure, it might have skipped that weird employer/employee stage from TSS, but it at least follows their relationship in TWS well, right?”

To this I say, yes, but also no. We need to take into account the role the arguments play in both mediums.

In the books, since Lucy is a very personal narrator, the arguments are a good way of showing the Locklyle relationship unmarked by her own thoughts. Although Lucy is quite inaccurate at judging what people feel and think (see: Holly), she’s not the kind of unreliable narrator that makes up things people say or do.

In the show, since we don’t get to see Lucy’s internal monologue; the arguments are instead used to show how Lucy feels. To that end, I can understand why they made her more direct/in touch with her emotions during them – if she didn’t say anything, the audience probably wouldn’t know.

SO: to get a full picture of her relationship with Lockwood, we need to examine both her acts AND her internal feelings.

What does Lucy feel in the show?

In the show, although Lucy does like Lockwood, she hates (or at least is troubled by) the following: he’s reckless, he’s (over) confident, he’s arrogant and loves the spotlight. But her two primary issues with his character seem to be:

His death-seeking nature:

“What does any of it mean if we end up stabbed or dead at the bottom of the Thames with nobody left to care?“ / “To be honest, the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.”(Ep 8)

His distance/mystery:

“You might be able to turn your feelings on and off like a tap, but I am drowning here, Lockwood.” (Ep 2)

“At the centre of you is just a…” “A what? A cold, dead heart of stone?” “Yeah, maybe. But who knows, though? 'Cause you don't actually show anyone.” (Ep 7)

Is this the case in the books?

Nope. Not at all. This is the absolute biggest difference between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle.

Lucy has very little to say about Lockwood’s general recklessness because, well, she is reckless too (this is the case in the show as well – makes her look just a little bit like a hypocrite).

In regards to his death-seeking nature: Lucy doesn’t even pick up on it until the Skull of all people points it out, and that is definitely much further along than in TSS and TWS.

But why doesn’t she see these signs? It ties back to how Lucy feels about Lockwood’s distance/mystery in TSS and TWS which is, well: she loves it.

Show!Lucy can’t stand Lockwood hiding things from her and running off madly towards “any old mystery”, and that’s what makes her a good grounding force for Lockwood there.

Book!Lucy fully drinks the Lockwood kool-aid and buys into his grand myth.

From the very outset, Lucy immediately likes Lockwood. Unlike Show!Lucy who compares him negatively with the people “back home”, Book!Lucy thinks:

“Lockwood, I already liked. He seemed a world away from the remote and treacherous Agent Jacobs; his zest and personal commitment were clear. Here was someone I felt I could follow, someone perhaps to trust.” (TSS, p 112)

We also get Lucy’s opinion of Lockwood “throwing himself” into missions the very first full day she joins:

“Vigorous and energetic, eager to throw himself into each new mystery; a boy who was clearly never happier than when walking into a haunted room, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt…It already pleased me to think of walking into darkness with Lockwood at my side.” (TSS, p 127)

She starts buying the “Lockwood narrative” very quickly too. When Lockwood says:

‘This will be one of the three most successful agencies in London…And you can be a part of that, Lucy. I think you’re good, and I’m glad you’re here.’ (TSS 129)

Lucy thinks:

“You can bet my face was flushed right then – it was a special triple-combo of embarrassment at being found out, pleasure at his flattery and excitement at his spoken dreams.” (TSS 129)

We see her continued fall into Lockwood’s all-consuming orbit on the next page:

“For a moment, as he said this, it all made perfect sense��when he smiled like that it was hard not to agree with him.” (p 130)

Contrast this to the show, where instead she cooly responds, “Thank you,” then immediately asks: “How do I know you’re good enough for me?” (Ep 1)

Show!Lucy clearly isn’t buying it from the beginning, and continues to not buy it. We can see the difference after the Hope House case when Lucy is talking to George.

George: “Maybe if you'd been more interested before you went charging.”

Lucy: “That was Lockwood's decision. I've only just started. What am I supposed to say to him?” (Ep 2)

George: “You're meant to say no. You have to, or you'll make him worse.”

George is another character who works well to contextualise Lucy’s behaviour towards Lockwood. In the show, George sees Lucy as someone capable of reigning Lockwood in. Whereas in the books, he sees Lucy as equally at fault for being reckless.

“When is going to be the time? When you and Lockwood are both dead, maybe? When I open the door one night and see the two of you hovering beyond the iron line?...All you and Lockwood care about is going out and snuffing Sources, as quickly as you can! ” (TSS, p 139-140)

Rather than deflect blame onto Lockwood as she does in the show, she says:

“Because that’s what makes our money, George!...If you were less obsessed with it, we’d have done twice as many cases in the last few months…We waited all afternoon for you.” (TSS, p140)

The “makes our money” line sounds a lot like something that would come out of Lockwood’s mouth, and makes me wonder whether she’s parroting something he said at this stage. Conjecture aside, it shows the reader that Lucy is firmly on Lockwood’s side – as established, Lucy “never says no” to Lockwood, and everyone else knows it.

I suspect part of the reason this continues for so long is because Lockwood never is too approving of Lucy, which causes Lucy to scrabble for the rare moments of his approval.

“Moments before, he’d been promising to incinerate the locket. Now it was the key to all our troubles. Moments before, he’d been giving me a rollocking; now I was the apple of his eye. This was the way it was with Lockwood. His shifts were sometimes so sudden that they took your breath away, but his energy and enthusiasm were always impossible to resist.” (TSS, p 190)

“As usual, the full warmth of his approval made me feel a little flushed.“ (p TWS, 108)

Although by TWS Lucy is far more comfortable with Lockwood to his face, she can’t help but put him on a pedestal at the back of her mind, which marks the remaining difference between the show and the books.

“One full year after my arrival at the agency, the unrevealed details of my employer’s early life remained an important part of his mystery and fascination.” (TWS, p 40)

Even George calls her out on it:

“Oh, come on. You love all that mystery about him. Just like you love that pensive, far-off look he does sometimes.” (TWS, p 55)

Putting aside the “haha Lucy has an obvious crush on Lockwood” part, what’s interesting is that George specifically hones in on Lucy enjoying the “mystery” of Lockwood – although she does want to find out what’s behind the door, she also is drawn to, rather than repelled by (unlike Show!Lucy) the part of him that keeps things hidden. Her encounter with the Fetch in THB shows her precisely what is underneath that mysterious facade of Lockwood’s, and that (combined with Holly) is what, I think, finally scares her out of her idolatry.

As for Lockwood, we can only guess at his thoughts in the book, but we do know that he’s far less open than he is in the show. It is George who reveals to Lucy that Lockwood’s parents are probably dead (TSS, 114).

Lockwood only really brings up his parents (and quickly moves on to other matters) at the END of The Hollow Boy (p 391).

I think he makes a concerted effort to act as Lucy’s employer, to the extent that he hardly asks about or takes an interest in her personal life at all. Compare the line in the show where Lockwood says:

“Interesting outfit, Luce. Didn't have you down as a fan of unicorns. Or rainbows.”

To the book, where not only does Lockwood never comment on Lucy’s appearance, that line is a callback to a line said by George:

“Ooh, Lucy – I’ve never seen you wearing that.” (TSS, p175)

In fact, I’d maybe even go so far to say that the show has snatched bits from George’s relationship with Lockwood and Lucy respectively and repurposed into Locklyle dynamics [see: George worrying about Lockwood’s recklessness, George upset at being treated as an asset (TWS, p107)].

This isn't to say that he doesn't care about them: he very clearly does and it is most clear in moments of crisis. But Lockwood is such a unique character, plus a known Stepford Smiler, and so "typical" signs of feelings of happiness (smiling at Lucy etc) shouldn't be taken at face value when trying to ascertain how he feels – and this is true until THB.

I don’t want people to think I’m cherry picking moments of tension between Lucy and Lockwood to make a point here. Once again, Lockwood does care about Lucy. When Lucy isn’t caught up in her Lockwood-filter, and when Lockwood isn’t preoccupied with his role as THE Anthony Lockwood, they share plenty of moments where they joke, laugh and generally act like teens, which the show captured just fine.

But those moments of cheeriness belie a narrative backbone that is very different. Lucy in the books is just 14 years old, and she’s looking for a (metaphorical!!!) “grown up” mentor after losing her father and being betrayed by Jacobs. Meanwhile, Lockwood is trying his best to shut the door on his childhood and act wiser than his years.

Thus when they meet, Lockwood just happens to be playing that authority figure Lucy thinks she needs (but we know she doesn’t!), and is only happy to oblige by continuing to play that role until slowly Lucy (and George) start breaking down his guard.

TLDR;

Show!Locklyle has a far more balanced dynamic than Book!Locklyle, which is objectively pretty “boss and employee”. Perhaps controversially, I don’t think Lockwood felt anything other than general workplace fondness/friendship for Lucy for most of TSS (at least until Combe Carey Hall).

Most importantly: Lucy in the show hates and is hurt by Lockwood’s secrecy, but Book!Lucy fawns over the very shadow consuming his soul – that is, until her rather rude awakening at the end of THB.

The ramifications of these changes have also spilled onto the characters. Lucy in the show comes off as more strong-minded, practical and confident, whereas book Lucy seems tougher, more of a tsundere (ye) and more love-starved. Lockwood in the show is the same attention-hungry “politician”, but more sincere, troubled and subdued. Whereas Lockwood in the books is crueller (remember that time he threatened to shut a kid in a coffin?), flashier, more competent and a huge brat (affectionate).

Which Locklyle is better is a matter of personal taste. In the show there’s arguably more dramatic tension, and the relationship is more tender/romantic and caring overall. But I think there’s something to be said for how unique Lucy and Lockwood’s dynamic is in the books, and the very carefully written unfurling that takes them to the end of TEG.

Either way, I hope I’ve convinced any readers of this giant word vomit that the show and book dynamics are two very separate beasts.

Agree? Disagree? Found it interesting? Hate my guts? Let me know what you think!!!

Till next time!

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #this thing is absolutely massive i hope it doesn't wreck the app #if i see a typo or factual error after i post i will perish #locklyle #i guess

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