#but not so noble afterall

[fangirljas]

OMG....this made me think of a small Sirius, learning the art of cutting remarks from portraits at his home, when he is left to study some rather bore stuff, for eg., financial transactions of family, or the whole ancestors tree.

Just imagine... Sirius, a bubbly child, made to sit and learn ...asking the portraits, don't they get bored just sitting?

And portraits who are ordered to keep an 'eye' on him...find an amazing outlet for teaching someone something....Ah! The minefield of headcannons featuring: 'playground insults' they would play. 🤣

Phineas Nigellus and Sirius’s similarities

Re-reading the camping scene, I noticed a parallel between Sirius and Phineas Nigellus. Both of them are cutting and contemptuous when they perceive someone to either be stupid or having said something stupid. 

During the tent scene, Phineas chides both Harry and Hermione in a very dismissive manner: 

“...Goblin-made armor does not require cleaning, simple girl….” DH

“.....Phineas Nigellus turned his face in the direction of Harry’s voice.

“Evidently it is not only Muggle-borns who are ignorant, Potter” “  DH

These echo Sirius’s comments about both Bertha Jorkins and his insults towards Peter: 

“And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It’s not a good combination…” GoF

“would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you” PoA

I’ve also noticed that they both seem bored/feign boredom. 

Cornelius Fudge describes visiting Sirius in Azkaban and how he seemed bored. In the SWM flashback, Sirius is described by Harry as: 

“…Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored..”  OoTP

This is similar to the descriptions of Phineas Nigellus, 

“.. Idly examining his silk gloves.”  OoTP

And Phineas is frequently seen pretending to be asleep and speaking in a bored voice: 

“He says he’ll be delighted,” said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. “My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests...” OoTP

Also the always had odd taste in houseguests, clearly has a backstory because Sirius has only been back at Grimmauld for less than a year. 

Furthermore, both Sirius and Phineas use insults related to cleanliness (so does Walburga’s portrait).

“That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?” said Phineas Nigellus, incensed” DH

Which is similar to: 

“There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” said Black.” PoA

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai slowly moving you in without you knowing ~

"Osamu, can I borrow a comb or something? I can't seem to find my hairbrush..."

You call out as you rummage through your duffle bag you brought to spend the weekend at his place. you do this as much as you can, it's lovely to spend time with the one you love... And also because he loses all sanity and rationality if he goes a few days without seeing you. You've been there before, and it's a nightmare for both you and anyone interacting with him. Poor baby!

He perks up, staring at you from across the room, chin resting on his palm and his eyes half-lidded. He's thinking about the day he hid that from you, along with a few other garments. He calls back, sounding scattered.

"Mm? Oh, you can borrow anything you want! Mine's behind the bathroom mirror."

"Okay!"

You open the mirror, and the shelf has not only your hairbrush, but one of your hair clips too. You tilt your head, calling back out.

"Nevermind! Found some of my stuff. Guess I left them here last time, heh."

He jumps at your new finding, quietly cursing himself for not hiding that before you came over. Dazai sighs deeply and immediately hops off the stool, beelining it to you. He clears his throat, playing dumb like the demon he is.

"Well, I think you should still use mine. Please, yours looks all old and yucky. If you keep using it all of your hair will fall out and you'll be bald and hate yourself for the rest of your life and nobody will want you! Except for me, of course~"

"... Um, I don't think so?"

"Well I do! Now, come on, let's get these silky locks in check."

He spins you around and immediately starts combing out your hair, humming a little tune to himself as he does so. He makes a mental note to hide the shirt and pajama shorts he kept last weekend too, that's for when he's alone at night. He also needs to make sure you willingly start leaving things, otherwise you'll freak if you're missing half your stuff. He's so gentle with you and having the time of his life, lightly dusting his fingers against the nape of your neck. He stifles a giggle behind that little smirk plastered on his face when you squirm a bit. He'll make sure you do it plenty of more times before you leave later. Maybe you'll finally beg like he's been wanting you to!

"There. All done."

He presses a soft kiss at the top of your head and you flash him a sweet smile. He could honestly pass out right there. And if he fell down, he'd be at your feet, and then he could be at your knees. Oh! And then you'd fuss over him and never leave his sight. And then... So so so cute...

You get a thoughtful look on your face, and turn to face him fully, popping his delusional little bubble.

"... Come to think of it, I feel like I always lose stuff at your place. You'll gather it for me if you find it, Osamu?"

At the mention of his name, he feels his entire body heat up. He blinks twice and tilts his head innocently. God, you look breathtaking when you're confused. He'll have to take a photo sometime for his album. You love posing for those, and he loves looking at you.

"Sure, but why don't you just... Leave things here from now on? You're here alllll the time, might as well just keep stuff here for safe keeping. I'll be the noble keeper of your things!"

You raise a brow, huffing into a laugh.

"Yeah? Is that what you want to be?"

His voice then becomes softer, needier, and dead serious. He stares right into your beautiful eyes, drowning himself in them. He mutters.

"For you, I'll be anything you want me to be. Afterall, I'm nothing more than a boy made of clay~"

You blush at that. Really hard. Amazing! he thinks. He reaches for your soft face that feels hot to the touch, cupping it inbetween his bandaged hands as he delicately rubs circles on your temples with the pad of his thumb. You wish you could look anywhere else right now because you're falling apart under him and he knows it.

"When you move in, you can do anything you want with the place. Especially with me."

"... Shouldn't we talk more about this another time?"

"Mmm no, not really."

He replies, his Hazelnut eyes go a little darker as he looks down at you.

"Hm, I think we should, cause you're too fast for me. You're like a Hare." You giggle as you say that, eyes twinkling.

"I like bunnies. I like you..."

He mumbles, going straight for your lips before you can say anything else.

Needless to say, you didn't get very far into the discussion after that. He wouldn't let that happen. And that's okay! He can adapt! He thinks he IS being a little pushy and a little too fast for your taste. He's sooo sorry, he'll take it slower next time. In between the sloppy kisses and the very indecent ways he uses his hands to toy with you, he desperately whispers in your ear one last time before he devours you fully.

"... We're staying together forever and ever, yeah?"

"Mmphhhmm..."

[tragedybunny]

Time for another one of my hot takes. Fresh and warm, like pancakes. Sorry, I'm kinda hungry this morning. I don't like the narrative the Astarion will NEVER be romantic with his partner.

I will say, he is not going to be Mr. Over The Top Fairy Tale Prince. That is definitely Wyll. Especially at first after everything. But I think it greatly depends on what his partner places value on. Because more than anything, he's shown he adores them. So, if you really want more of those traditional gestures, I think he could take upon himself to adopt them. And maybe hold Wyll hostage for a day while he forces him to teach him the ways of romance. And would they invariably come with his weird little Astarion spin on them? Yes. Like he finds out some flowers make great poisons! Now they look pretty and you can defend yourself with them. Oh you've got your eye on something from that fancy jewelry store? It's yours, stolen right off the idiot noble who bought it. This is the man who restarted his sex life on his own grave. But you're not with him if you don't expect that to be part of the package.

Some of talk going around makes it seem like he'd just tell you to bugger off if you wanted anything approaching romance. Which I disagree with. Afterall, you are his leaking bloodbag.

[sulumuns-dootah]

hear me out(possible fic idea but also just something I need to get off my mind…) female reader on their period with the sorest breasts know to man, but thankfully we have big handed demon to the rescue for a nice lil massage 🙂‍↕️(Beleth and Mammon were the first two that came to mind, same with Morax, his hands looked HUGE in that Lucifer card.)

WHB demons w/ fem!reader who has sore breasts

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Decided to add some more boys and put it into HC format bc i rarely get to do those for the nobles ^^

Characters: Amy, Mammon, Glaysalabolas, Beleth, Ronove, Morax, Marbas

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Amy, being the good boy he is, will gladly do anything for you to make you feel better

Just give him the word and he'll be eagerly all over your chest

Silently hopes that you also get cramps bc it's a known fact that orgasms help relieve those

The thought of you forcing him to eat you out is enough to make his horn-fluid start dripping from the tips of his horns

Maybe if the massage doesn't help, he could try sucking on your tits instead?

       ༺☆༻

Mammon on the other hand...

No funny or alterior motives here

You ask for a massage and he hapily delivers

But if you also need a massage somewhere else, make sure to let him know ;)

Henestly, he's the top pick to go to

His hands are perfect for this

He's a gentle giant through and through which translates amazingly into his touches

       ༺☆༻

When you ask Glasya to massage your breasts, he'll have to think about it, btu say yes in the end

But under one condition:

You lay as still as possible... or he can give you his special kiss (H-scene reference)

But knowing him, there's no guarantee he'll keep his word

Though, I do feel like once he's done with you, your painful boobs will be the last of your concern

       ༺☆༻

Ooh just sitting in Beleth's lap while his free hand takes turns on each of your tits while the other one is busy with bringing the cigarette to his lips

And if you're smoker too, occasionally he'll let you take a drag too while you're bouncing on his lap

What? Don't look at him like that! You really thought he'd do it for free?

       ༺☆༻

Asking Ronove is potentially even more riskier than asking Glasyalabolas, but(!) this man definitelly knows what he's doing with his hands

And there's something about seeing the hands that usually rip angels apart making you feel good instead

I can imagine him whispering sweet praises or filthy remarks as he does so

       ༺☆༻

Morax is actually a little bit shy when you ask him, but he's obviously down for the job

Making others feel better is his main job description afterall

He'll even offer to take on your pain so you don't suffer that much

I think Morax is the only demon to actually make the pain fully go away

       ༺☆༻

Somewhere between Ronove and Morax

The risk of asking Marbas is great, given his constant urges, but the payout is even greater

He may not get rid of the pain fully, but instead he'll turn it into a pleasurable pain

And yes, it is really ahard for him to restrain himself from just turning you into his fleshlight

Especially when you start letting out the sweetest moans of relief

[timetravellibrarian]

He was intriguing. That was a word you could describe Trafalgar Law as. With his expression hidden behind that hat and his seemingly elaborate plans, there's no question he is.

At first when you had met him in the bustling groves of the Sabaody Archipelago you wouldnt have guessed he would become an ally.

The crew had split up, exploring the place known to be a stop for both pirates and nobles alike. You had ended up exploring the market for something new to wear, this time with your own money instead of borrowed money from Nami that lead to a perilous amount of interest.

Little did you know that you were as famous as your bounty poster suggested, bumping into crews that not only knew your friends but also you too.

First impressions matter, no matter where you are and who you're dealing with and the first thing you said when your gaze fell on him there was certainly a lasting impression.

The dark circles, the goatee, the large hat and especially the jeans.

The Surgeon of Death

"You look like a backalley doctor."

Not only did he look shocked, but also offended. Mainly because his own crew were hiding their guffaws horribly, seeing the vision of what you meant.

This was before everything had gone haywire and crews were forced to claw their way out of the doors of death from which Admiral Kizaru and the Pacifistas had the keys to.

Now sitting on the chair beside Luffy in the hospital room aboard the Polar Tang, having flashes of the war playing through your mind left you unaware of the footsteps approaching. The so called "Surgeon of death" had become part of your usual routine, mainly checking on your wounds and informing you on your captain's condition.

You watched as he checked Luffy's vitals. You never left your friend's side since that day, not trusting anyone. Afterall, he was the only one in the crew who's state of being you were sure of.

"Are you going to keep glaring at me the whole time?" His voice broke through your thoughts as you absentmindedly watched him take out bandages he would use to redress Luffy's wounds

"Hm?"

He rolled up his sleeves, allowing more of those tattoos to be visible as he washed his hands. Your eyes fell on those inked hands that both saved lives as a doctor and the cause of unknown terrors as a pirate.

"You're worried about Strawhat-ya?" He stated, lifting Luffy's body as carefully as he could under your harsh gaze.

"Partly," You began, crossing your arms, " I'm curious. Why?"

Law felt something invisible wrap around his neck as soon as his hands had gone off of your captain. He had heard about one of the strawhats having a mysterious devil fruit. One that didn't need the beholder to even lift a finger.

He smirked, feeling your power pressing harder on his neck and allowing little air to flow through his body,"Why?"

Somehow he kept a somewhat confused expression despite the dire consequences of your actions.

"I'm not playing around, Trafalgar."

"I know you're not."

He had a chance to just throw you and Luffy out into sea. You were both anchors afterall. Turn you in for your bounties. Tortured us for treasure. Cut your organs up for whatever sick operations landed him the title he held.

So many questions in your vigilant mind .

"I felt like it," Law said, not being fully honest but also not lying. His eyes didn't leave your face, gauging out your reaction.

"Sounds like something a backalley doctor would say." You let go of him, watching as he took deep breaths to control the panic that he has hidden behind his calm facade.

"DINNERS READY!" a yell from somewhere aboard the ship had called out.

"Sorry for that." You said, no longer looking at him and instead focusing on your unconscious captain. Your fingers had intertwined with his, feeling his pulse at the wrist with your fingers to remind you that he was still alive, even after all the death and destruction of the war

Law hummed in thought, hands lingering on his neck before letting go of the initial threat to his life." I'll have dinner sent to you."

He walked out of the room to join his crew, leaving you to your thoughts as you guarded Luffy.

Two things were decided. One. You wouldn't leave your captain's side until he would wake up.

Two. Trafalgar Law found you just as intriguing.

[deus-sema]

My two cents on Shogun finale with spoilers:

I think the way this finale was handled can be used as a fine example of how to subvert expectations in the *right* manner. This is not the kind of ending that would make us go WTF after momentary shock value only to disappoint us terribly but an ending which might not be what I - as a show only fan had predicted - but one which makes sense in the longer run like all the pieces of a puzzle falling into place to make a beautiful picture.

The actual event of the battle matters not as much as the actions of the people involved who contributed to its occurrence and affected its results. The wheels of fate are already in motion. We know that, come what may, Toranaga shall prevail. But that is a tale for another day. The one which we have been following until now was about Toranaga fighting against all odds and carefully setting the stage in order to achieve his dream, about Blackthorne who started his journey as an outsider in a foreign and hostile land with less than noble intentions finding a home in that place and about Mariko who patiently strived to fulfill her destined purpose and add meaning to her existence. And so she did. For even after her death, her presence was imbued in almost every scene leaving an everlasting impact on them.

The misleading opening of the episode with an aged Blackthorne who seemed to be back in England reminiscing about his days at Osaka clinging onto Mariko's crucifix was done in a clever manner. I was momentarily led to believe that Blackthorne might get to sail home afterall and I failed to understand why they would do that. But the lines between what was a fleeting dream and reality became abundantly clear when I witnessed Blackthorne letting go of Mariko's crucifix into the oceans. Mariko had become one with her homeland and by living there forever, Blackthorne had become one with her.

The writing of Shogun also shows us how one can make significant changes to certain characters and their relationships that differ from the source material and handle them wisely while adapting a story which is linked to the actions of its key players. Mariko's friendship with Ochiba and Ochiba's regard for her paid off because her death led Ochiba to withdraw her support for Ishido, even if she wasn't going to ally with Toranaga. This particular change from the books affected the plot and in a meaningful way. It's an achievement which certain other adaptations that introduce drastic changes without any regard for the overarching plot cannot boast of.

As a MariThorne shipper, I was left satisfied albeit in a bittersweet sense because while John had lost Mariko, his love for her still persisted. It was heartbreaking but this is a tragedy well done. One that I would remember forever. The last scene was oddly satisfying because, even if he doesn't know it yet, Blackthorne is exactly where he belongs now.

The acting was stellar as usual. Cosmo Jarvis and Tadanobu Asano deserve a special mention for this episode while Hiroyuki Sanada never disappoints. I'm grateful to the entire team of Shogun for delivering a show that I enjoyed wholeheartedly until the very end. And off I go to read the book next.

[angellekookie]

IN THE NAME OF LOVE & OTHER THINGS | MYG - Royalty AU [oneshot]

Summary: In which you really tried not to fall for him, but some things are inevitable, and you're ready to give u everything to be with him.

Genre: Romance (and maybe a little agnst? bro idk this was an accident

WC: 1.6 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, if I'm being honest.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Note: Yall this drabble was naawt supposed to happen but since it did, let's call it either a prelude or a spoiler for another project I have in the works. It has not been beta read or checked for errors any at all. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading it nontheless, it was a fun distraction ^^

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @strangergraphics

You two were never to meet. Afterall, you were both from two different worlds that only ever intertwined in the shadows. You lived in ballgowns and politics, delicate hands never even having to feed yourself if you lack any such desire on a given day. He lived in stone and clay and plaster, calloused hands rumoured to be tinged with gold or magic because of how he could bring any material to life. 

You were the daughter of a Duke, and while he was indeed a prodigy, the most sought after artist in all the four kingdoms, that didn’t mean the public would take too kindly to a relationship or marriage between you. It would never work.

It’s what you’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell him that whatever it was between you two had to end. There was no future for it, nothing to look forward to.

So why did you fall in love with him? Just when did you manage to fall for the Hands of Midas himself?

You wondered if it was between the silences you’ve shared, as he was a man of few words. Or maybe it was the dedication and focus he had when he was working. Perhaps, one too many instances of you watching him work on the sculptures your father commissioned for the parlour. Nights where you hoped, prayed, wished and even went as far as risking your dignity to beg and plead with the skies if they could make you marble or clay or anything just once. How his hands moved creating lines and shadows, bringing new life to every area he touched - it made you wonder if he could bring a new life to you too. 

You heard him laugh exactly once, but you vividly remember every smile and you secretly wished they were all for you.

If only you knew that Min Yoongi had saved every smile for you. 

He never wanted to be sponsored by the Duke. He didn’t want anything to do with any of the nobles. He’d wanted to stay home, with his family. All he knew for his entire life was art. His mother’s singing, his father’s painting and his own love for sculpting. He was always quiet, observing the world around him and seeing every flaw. But Yoongi thought they were beautiful, so he used his hands to create the world that he sees, the one he loves. He didn’t need anything else. But going to stay with a wealthy family would be good for his own family. He’d get a great education, a place to stay and of course, he could sculpt whenever his heart desired- that’s what his mother told him as she sent him off on the carriage when he was younger.

Of course he missed his mother, cried for the first and last time the day he left. He was sure nothing could ever make leaving home worth it, wanted to curse the Duke and everything he stood for ripping him away from his recently widowed mother. Oh how that quickly changed when a girl with the kindest eyes and the biggest and brightest eyes ran out just as he was getting out of the carriage at the duchy. He noticed the dirt on her cheeks, how she seemed unbothered; happy. How she dragged along who he would correctly assume was a younger sibling- though she expressed more discomfort at whatever she was unwillingly being volunteered into. 

Being sponsored by the Duke had its perks, though. Yoongi would get to spend his days learning whatever they thought he needed academically, and as soon as that was done he’d get to bask in the glow of his art and his loyal audience of exactly one. Just as he would trace the lines on his current project, you would be tracing him. Of course, he couldn’t help the smiles he desperately tried to suppress whenever you were around. That was the only thing that could happen between you two, he knew that. You and him could never happen, surely such a pairing would be doomed from the start. He could only ever dare to reach out to you in his most wretched dreams. That was as far as he would go.

That was how far he thought he would have gone until that day between the marble and the roses things went just a bit too far. Spilled wine, whispered confessions and shared desire broke years of silence and tension. Suddenly, the spectator was the centre of attention. Though Yoongi didn't miss the opportunity that you had always been the star in his eyes. A star he never thought he’d ever get to hold in his hands, despite the risk of being burnt.

The risk was great. He knew it and so did you. 

And yet you would find yourself wrapped up in Yoongi always, somehow. You loved him, you were sure. So what if the risk was drowning? Whatever great thing that you were born to accomplish in this life couldn’t compare to loving him, being loved by him. 

Your mother, ever the noble lady she tried to raise you to be, asked you if you were sure that this was what you wanted to do. Left without a word to speak to your father, you presumed. You knew what it would come down to at the end of the day, knew that surely you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. 

Your father was always the kind of man to talk about duty and honour. Never failing to tell you and your sister the importance of the roles you were born in. He’d always encouraged you both that being a leader in any sense of the word, was to be wise both in mind and the heart. You were in his office with your sister when he told you that knowledge was just a blade without the handle of wisdom. You were also in his office whenever he scolded you for something like missing lessons with the governess (again) or whenever he praised you for a beautiful painting you made.

This time, you sat stood before him, too scared, too nervous for the outcome. Hoping the ‘But father, I love him’ you were holding on your tongue would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping that you didn’t break down and cry and beg and plead for him to let you go. That you really tried not to fall for him, but some things were inevitable. You had so much to say in your defense. All ready to run away should they decide to lock you up in the duchy forever or marry you off to some old widower. You weren’t prepared for when your father took your own hand in his, and looked at you with something that you truly did not have the words to describe. “Are you truly serious about this? Do you love him, ___?”

“With everything,” The tears you planned to use and beg were now threatening to make an appearance for a whole different reason. “I don’t want to have to live a life knowing I gave up the chance to love him.” You sat at his feet like you used to when you were much smaller. “I know you’re disappointed in me and that I’ve let you down but father, I’m-” 

You never got to apologise. Not when your father told you you had nothing to apologise for, that he knows this must have meant a lot to you since you actually wanted to apologise for breaking the rules this time. He hugged you and told you he’d already spoken to Yoongi, that you both shouldn’t just run away, that he’d take care of everything- that he could make sure you were safe one last time. What could you have possibly done, except cry while your father held you for the first time in a long time, for the last time in a long time. 

It’s how you found yourself still crying in the arms of your younger sister. You had come to tell her that you had made your mind up, you came to tell her goodbye.

Evening came, stealing away the daylight, but also bringing the time you were to leave everything familiar and dear to you behind. You were still in your sister’s room, head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked her fingers through your hair. It was almost as if she was the older one today, but then again- she was always the more composed of the two of you. You were leaving her with a heavy burden, a great responsibility. But you knew that she could handle it much better than you ever would, with much more grace than you could even think to imagine.

“What is love, that you’re so willing to give everything up like this?” You took some time before answering your sister’s question, only to put your thoughts together. 

“Love is something that knocks on your door at odd hours in the night. It warms your cheeks when you're out during the day, it chases you through meadows- it’s an adventure that comes to find you when it knows you're ready to sacrifice everything to chase it. Eventually, you’ll find yourself where love  rests.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me even more confused than I was three minutes ago…” She looked at you, the sad smile not reaching her eyes.

“One day, you will find love, and find yourself, and find your answer.” That’s what you told her as you embraced her for the last time for a long time.

You yourself often wondered what love was. But in the carriage your father arranged for you the night you left home, in the place you now live with a man you were convinced was born from your dreams, in the letters you exchange with your sister ever so often… You can safely say you found it.

AN: Thanks again for reading everyone, feedback is always appreciated 😘.

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @peoniesnro

[pachu09]

Isekai, Historical, Magical AU

Tobirama wanted to bash his head onto the nearest hard object his eye could spy. But! He didn't want to furthermore traumatized the child that was contently sitting in his arms.

He was so sure this didn't happened in the manga. The Emperor should have arrived after he successfully rescued Kagami!. So why did the bastard arrived way too early than the plot stated?!. Did he do something wrong?. So far nothing noteworthy happened when he transported in this world. Other than of course he had to learn how to use his Chakra. Which is pretty amazing in itself....

Tobirama cuts off his wandering thoughts and eyed suspiciously the Emperor and his entourage behind him. He better act like he's ignorant of the man's identity. Who knows what the Emperor would do to him if he revealed he knew who he is?.

" I don't really trust a man with a small army at his back not to kill me the moment I handed this child to you. "

The Emperor laugh loudly made Tobirama tensed in fear. " Fair enough, stranger.  Would you mind telling me what is your name so I could properly thank you for singlehandedly rescuing my nephew?. "

Tobirama pursed his lips. He decided to not tell his real name in case the Emperor tried to seek him out. " Call me Bito. " The Emperor face smoothing blankly made Tobirama warily eyed him. He carefully avoided the man's eyes when it seems his carefree attitude had suddenly vanished and then he turn to Kagami again.

" Little one. Your Uncle is here. Don't you want to go Home?. "

Kagami looked up to him with wide eyes. " But Bito!. You promised you'll go Home with me. "

Tobirama twitch. " I didn't promise anything little one. Go on. Your Uncle is waiting. Its rude to make him wait for you. "

Kagami suddenly clutches his neck and kisses his cheek affectionately had made Tobirama nearly drop the child.

" Okay Bito. But promise me you'll come visit me!. "

Tobirama deadpan and just went along in twining his pinky finger to that of the whining child. He then carefully handed a sleepy Kagami back to his Uncle who still had that emotionless look on his face.

He really need to skedaddle out of the Uchiha Kingdom if he doesn't want to end up beheaded like the original owner of this body. Nevermind in breaking his promise to Kagami but his life is on the line here!. Time is ticking and the sooner he's far away from this murderous Emperor the better it is.

Oh!. And he should probably find a noble Husband ( on paper only! He's straight as fuck thank you very much ). Just in case he needed a political backup. He heard the Water Clans like their spouses with Water Affinity. Surely, with how powerful he is he could easily snag a rich Noble there?.

" Thank you again, Bito–san " Tobirama ignored the strange intonation of the Emperor uttering his false name. " I hope we'll meet again soon. "

Tobirama felt chills running down his spine at that innocent remark.

" I don't think so. Since I'm just a passerby in this City. "

The Emperor's dark eyes pinning him on where he stood made Tobirama tensed up again. He's ready to teleport out of there in case the Emperor went nuts.

" Is that so?. And pray tell why you're visiting this...specific City?.

Tobirama scratches his cheek in embarrassment. " Ah. I was hoping I could find a suitable Husband but sadly I find none appealing. So I'm on my way to the next country. "

The Emperor blink and tilted his head at him. " That's strange. No sane City folk would dare to release you if you proposed to be their Spouse. "

Tobirama carefully back away. " Well thank the Gods they don't find me appealing. Goodbye good Sir and take good care of Kagami. That boy is quite a handful at times. " he quickly climb up on his horse and directed it to start walking. He never even look back at the small army behind his back. He's quite afraid to trigger the mad Emperor. He must make sure he can even journey out of the Fire country without any further incident.

Afterall, the original owner of the body he was occupying was unfairly beheaded by that insane Emperor and Tobirama who had read the manga several times had felt pity and sadness at the person who triggered Kagami’s slow descent to insanity. The manga Tobirama ( he's unnerved that he shared the man's name and even physical looks aside from the long hair, which he will surely chop off as soon as he had the chance ) had died because of a wrongful accusation.

Manga Tobirama had paid the false accusation with his reputation and life. And it started as a Catalyst for one Kagami to bear a hateful grudge to his whole Clan and most of all to his once beloved Uncle. The little child that he just met had grew up hating with every fiber of his being the people who made his Sensei suffer needlessly and in the end he managed to rebel against his Uncle but he also lost his own life in the process of trying to kill his own kin.

At the time when he read that particular scene he felt so sad at Kagami’s fate. The boy shouldn't have gone down the path of his hateful revenge. Because he knew one hundred percent that the Tobirama in the manga would have sacrifice his own life again and again just to make sure Kagami would live a happy life.

Tobirama sigh loudly, at least at this time he wouldn't be too close with Kagami and the boy will never go down his dark journey again. As long as he wasn't in the picture. It probably is for the best since he himself need to make sure he wouldn't die in this world.

He tap his horse on its side so that it could gallop faster. He suddenly felt unnerved when he activated his Sensing and it told him the Emperor and his entourage hasn't move from where he left them.

Tobirama decided he better not turn off his Sensing. He feared that there's a tail behind him. Unless he's finally near the Water Country then and only then will he turn it off even though the price of using such Chakra draining technique is tremendous. Ah, he'll makes sure he'll spend a week in Water Country recovering from overusing his Sensing.

With that clear plan, Tobirama gladly proceeds to rode his horse to the nearest small settlement.

~●~●~

A week later.

Tobirama stared at the expensive scroll the innkeeper had handed to him. He nearly drop the thing when he saw the Royal seal of the Uchiha. He decided he had to feign ignorance. Because he didn't really want to read whatever in it.

" I think this letter isn't really for me is it?. "

He donned his serious facial expression. The innkeeper stared confusedly at him.

" The Uchiha General outside the Inn told me to give it specifically to you. "

Tobirama instantly tensed up. The Uchiha General?. Why did he track him down? Shouldn't the Emperor had lost interest in him the moment he crossed over the Water Country?. What did he want from him?. Its not like he'll go back to the Fire Country in his own volition. He likes living and with his head intact. Thank you very much. He then glared at the damning scroll, sighed deeply and unrolled it.

He twitches on his place as he read the Emperor's message. The man is asking if he arrived unscathed to the Water Country. So far so good. Until the next paragraph made him want to scream in frustration.

Apparently, the Emperor is formally inviting him to be Kagami's personal Sensei. He shuddered in fear. No thanks. He better write up his reply quickly and give it to the General outside. His eyes then quickly scan the P.S beneath the Emperor's signature and stamped seal. He felt his Soul literally leaving his body as the message rang across inside his skull painfully.

P.S. If you try to deny my request. I will personally hunt you down and dragged you to my palace. There is no place in this world you can hide from me, Senju Tobirama.

Tobirama thinks it's time to implement his drastic plans. If the Emperor thinks he'll just roll over and do his biddings. He'll prove him wrong by making sure he won't ever catch him!.

~●~●~

A month later, Tobirama was unaware as he was carried back by the Emperor of the Fire Country back to his palace. He was left heavily unconscious as he tried to fight one on one the most powerful man in the Elemental Countries. He was also unaware as he was given a seal on the back of his neck. Stating that he was the Emperor's most prized treasure or that he was installed in the Empress Chambers.

Come morning, Tobirama will wake up to a joyous Kagami jumping on him and the Emperor's Brother personally telling him that the entire Fire Country court was in a political meltdown because the Emperor had gotten rid of his dozens of Concubines because of him.

[axelsagewrites]

I hope you feel a bit better now :)

If it's okay I'd like to request Roose Bolton with a new wife who can keep up with his cunning and teases him. If that's too vague let me know.

Roose Bolton*Not Yet

Pairing: roose bolton x f!reader

Word count: 1157

Warnings: roose being a cynic but nothing else I can think of

Masterlist Here

a/n: thanks anon! i do and sorry this took so long :)

Roose Bolton thought love was a lie. Or at the very least completely stupid. When his last wife died, he didn’t care if his knew one was well read or charming or interesting. Just that she was from a good house and ideally wasn’t too ugly. He left everything else up to politics.

After negotiating with his new bride’s uncle, he sat and waited at the dread fort for your arrival. He needed an heir not a love affair. If he wanted that he’d turn to one of the nearby whore houses. However, he was pleasantly surprised when you stepped out of the carriage.

Your house was known for their money in the north, nothing to be mentioned about looks but even beneath the warm grey cloak you wore he could still tell he would be pleased. Even the passerby stopped to take an extra long glance at the mysterious woman climbing out her carriage. Roose didn’t know why it made him puff out his chest or stride over so quickly to meet you, but he didn’t like the feeling it created in him.

“My lady,” he greeted, extending his arm to help you down the final step.

“My lord,” you curtsied to him, but he could see your eyes scanning the courtyard, “I’m afraid we will have to start our meetings discussing business. You see my uncle brought your terms back to my father and them seems to be some confusion,”

“Straight to it then,” I like it, he thought to himself, “Tell me what was so wrong with my terms?” he hadn’t expected the chuckle that left your throat or how you gently shook your head at him.

“I’m afraid we have much to discuss lord Bolton. Perhaps somewhere more private than here?” you said, glancing to where the servants had tried to eavesdrop before quickly scattering.

He nodded and extended his arm for you to take, “Follow me my lady,”

-

Roose left the council room more confused than when he went in. he wasn’t even fully sure what it all was he had just agreed to just that you seemed pleased and that was weirdly enough, “I hope you enjoy your stay with us my lady,” he said as he walked you to your new room, “I’ve had the servants take extra care when preparing for your arrival,” he said and once more you chuckled, “Is something funny?” he asked in the tone that usually made everyone avert their eyes but you instead turned to look into his.

“My stay. As if I shall be leaving at some point. Don’t worry I’m sure this room will suffice,” you said as you opened the door yourself, something he’d planned on doing to act the proper gentleman, “Afterall I won’t be in it for too long I imagine,” you said with a teasing glint in your eye.

Roose cleared his throat as he tried to keep his composer. Never not once had someone spoke to him like this. Well, the whores in the brothels would try and tease but his glares would usually silence them quickly. They only seemed to spur you on however, “You do plan on sharing my bed when we will be wed?” you asked, your lip quirked up into a smirk.

“Of course, my lady,” he stuttered out before sighing to compose himself, “I plan on performing all my husbandly duties and I expect the same from you in return,”

“I’ve been practicing being a wife but alright I suppose,” you quipped before reaching for the door handle as you slipped further into the room, “Goodbye Lord Bolton,”

“Good- “he tried to say however you’d already shut the door, “Bye,”

-

Over the next week he watched you. he watched as your face would light up into a warm smile when talking to his nobles then soon drop as soon as they turned their backs. He saw how you handled servants as if he’d already wed you and how you would gossip with the women then roll your eyes as they walked away.

One day he was sat at lunch in the hall when one of his more troublesome nobles approached him. You were sat on the opposite side of the hall, glancing over at the two before turning back to the other women. “My lord, a moment if you will,”

“Of course,” he said, dragging his eyes from you, “How can I assist you today?” he said through half gritted teeth.

“Well, I considered your proposal over my land,” he started and suddenly Roose was interesting again. He’d been trying to secure some of his land or rather his harvest since the dread fort was not the best place to grow crops, yet this idiot always seemed to have plenty to spare. “I must say your new offer is very tempting,”

“My new offer?”

“The one your lady wife delivered to me. She said you requested it,”

Roose forced a smile on his face as he nodded, “Oh yes of course. and you have considered it?”

He nodded, “Yes I have, and I think you will be very happy to know my answer,”

-

Roose Bolton wasn’t sure if he was impressed, angry, annoyed, or jealous at the fact you had secured a deal in less than a week he’d been working on for almost a year. And worst of all? You weren’t even asking for credit.

“How?” was the only thing he asked when he snuck up behind you in the corridors.

“Do I keep my skin so youthful? You see I- “you started with a smirk on those pretty lips, but he cut you off.

“The deal,”

You rolled your eyes at him but laughed as you did, “It was easy enough I just cut out the middleman,” you said making him tilt his head in confusion, “I went to his wife. Very pragmatic woman even if a bit dull,”

“You know we’re not married yet,” he said, pausing his walk and expecting you to copy but you kept on going forcing him to chase up to catch up with you, “You can’t just make decisions behind my back,”

“I’m sorry was me getting you a bargain an inconvenience?” you asked with a fake pout, “Perhaps if I found out the deal from you and not from idle gossip then I could’ve asked you first,”

“You’ve been here a week,”

“Nine days actually,” you grinned, “only seventeen till we are wed. I count them down you know?” you said as you arrived at your chamber door.

Roose tightened his jaw as your hand reached to unlock the door, “Why is that?”

You laughed lightly, your eyes scanning up and down his body in a way that made his cheeks heat up, “Goodnight Roose. Have the sweetest dreams. I know I will,” you said, shutting the door and leaving someone most in the north considered terrifying to be speechless.

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics

Game of thrones taglist: @mysunflowerspace  @xyinparadise  @nyotamalfoy @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Taglist Sign Up Here

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do Malleus x Yuu or reader, it is in the future when they are married and have a son named (ironically) Tsunotaro. It is the celebration of either Yuus/ reader and Malleus wedding anniversary or their sons birthday. Everyone in the realm is invited/ their old school friends. Their ages normally at first due to his mothers human side and has her hair but the rest they have from their father. (Cute horns and all) Rollo (secret Yandere for them) is in attendance with his son Neige (snow in French) his mother died in childbirth and views Yuu/ reader as a mother figure since they are over at the kingdom quite a lot and play with the young prince. Leona’s son Sonbaai (sun bathe) is starting his first year at Night Raven College is in attendance reluctantly. (Doesn’t share his father’s laziness) the event is sabotaged and chaos ensues. Malleus and his family separated. Rollo set it all up, not giving up his goal from the masquerade event and offers them a place with him if they leave Malleus and their son behind. They refuse and he uses the chaos to trap the two and burn them alive. The reader is clutching Tsunotaro telling them it’s going to be okay as the fire they are trapped in worsens (maybe they are in a room or stuck) Tsunotaro and his mother are saved by either Sebek or Silver. the Queen is in severe condition, but Tsunotaro is unharmed as he is fire proof. They are helped by their Allie’s but the Queen is put into a coma for healing and Malleus wants vengeance and gathers his friends from their school days.

Jealousy Burns |  Yandere Rollo Flamm

Rollo would never hurt you

Or attempt to mortally wound you without guaranteeing your safety

Nor would he jeopardize his appearance in your eyes

Since you’ve met he’s already have the image of someone untrustworthy

But he’s grown and kept in touch with you to build something new

Slowly and quietly biding his time

“Congratulations on your…engagement.”

He’ll stifle it

Shove his anger down to fester and boil as he brews a plan

A plan that will leave you coming to him in the end

But he has to be careful

His enemy is wiser, older, and plenty protective of his spouse more than ever

But he’ll find a way

Find some easily manipulated pawns and begin an orchestra of a kingdom’s demise

It is his passion, afterall

The fire flower now cultivated into another blossom

A different color, a more volatile effect, and a more durable network of roots

He doesn’t plan them 

He has nothing to do with them

…but his followers on the otherhand…

His followers know better than to let his name even leave their lips, magicing themselves dead before they can even be tortured

So when the King and their spawn are rendered nearly comatose by the outbreak it’s easy for those nobles to push the human away

And its so easy for Rollo to open his doors and his aide…in your separate research

“I fear this new plant was a cross breed, with the one I used all those years ago….I am…so sorry.”

“Oh Rollo it’s okay. It’s not your fault!” 

Yes, it’s not his fault at all

So your guard is let down while you have his shoulder to cry on

A drop of mere suggestion as you share a spot of tea

“I’d hate to have your mind full of something so despairing….so how about I help distract you.”

[lazyalani]

| Ciel Phantomhive × [F!Reader]

| Well, it burned

| written from lizzy's point of view, well kind of, still from third person but focuses on lizzy, no twins au, angst, so much angst with happy ending, swearing, it gets worse before it gets better, ciel and reader end up together, lizzy watched their love die, she watches as ciel falls inlove with reader, tried to keep it as short as possible cuz making it long would make it a full blown lizzy fic, not accurate but this is the best i can do without ruining my own writing style and ideas >_< sorry for the long wait, this fucking broke me as a hard cielizzy shipper

A request from: @imhereiguess420

| Summary: In which Lady Elizabeth gets too close to the fire. And what happens when you get too close? You get burned.

| Kuroshitsuji Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

sometimes, i wake up by the door

It was supposed to be just a mission. She were supposed to be just a mission.

Perhaps she was too naive.

Or perhaps she was too ignorant.

Or maybe both. Lizzy thinks, no, she knows.

After the events of Campania she was sure Ciel and her had become closer. They were. Until she came along.

Stupid. Stupid. This is all your fault. She tells herself. You were the one who insisted to take care of her, you were the one who agreed to let Ciel help. She scolds herself again and again. So why are you complaining now?

She can feel her tears rimming on her eyes. She can feel her mind going in a haze. She can feel her emotions rampaging, uncontrollable. She can feel her brother's pity filled stare.

When the Queen had gathered the knights of the kingdom to protect a noble lady being targeted by a country they were in tension with, Elizabeth had volunteered herself to directly take care of them as she were near her age, and let the others take care of dealing with other forces of the mission. She figured she would also be more comfortable with someone her age.

She was a kind person. But as she lays out her suggestions towards the plan for the mission, she can't help but think about someone else. She reminded her of someone. Ciel. She smiled, oh, she just had a great idea.

Who would've thought it would take things for the worst?

She remembered how she barged in to the Phantomhive Estate to ask Ciel for help.

"I'm sure you'd get along with them! She's really really smart like you, and you both speak in riddles sometimes!"

He sighs, "Do I need to?"

"No, but pleaseeee? It would really make me happy to make her comfortable and safe!" She pouts and gives him the best puppy eyes she could muster.

The Earl shakes his head with slight red cheeks and sighs again. "Alright, I'll see what I can do." He looks away, but she could still see his red cheeks. And she smiles, feeling a lot more giddy.

Who knew those were one of their last moments?

that heart you caught must be waiting for you

She crumples another paper and throws it away, picking up another and began writing again. What was she writing about again? Fuck, the ink got smudged by water. Oh, it wasn't water.

Her face scrunches with the pain she feels on her chest as she hold her forehead, trying to control her breathing. She can still feel her brother's hesitant and concerned stare from the opened door of her room.

She shifted in her seat a little. She didn't want her brother to see her like this.

So pathetic.

"[Name]! This is Ciel, my lovely fiance!" She, jolly as ever, gestures to the Earl who sighs again and lifts up his hand.

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive, it's uhh, nice to meet you..." He awkwardly says as he glances at her expecting expression.

She smiles and giggles. He might sigh a lot around her, but she knows he feels just the same as she did. She's happy to see him try to be nicer for her.

She nodded and took his hand to shake, introducing herself as well, "... the pleasure is mine."

Ciel and her gazes were both calculating, observing each other, almost wary. But Lizzy didn't mind, it was their first meeting afterall, she was sure they would get along just fine. They were alike, afterall.

Oh my, fair lady, too alike.

She wanted to shout when another paper gets smudged by her tears, crumpling it and throwing it away again.

"My lady...." She hears Paula's worried voice from beside her brother.

She ignores it and picks up another paper, her grip on the pen almost breaking it from the force.

God, she was close to breaking. But she couldn't let her brother and Paula see more of her disgraceful side. She writes and writes. She didn't even know what she was writing anymore. Those words, those phrases, every sentence had different words all over. But they all have the same meaning.

Please don't do this.

Please don't leave me. She silently begs.

even now when we're already over,

Oh, fair lady, how low had you fallen?

I don't know, I don't care! She wanted to scream. Getoutgetoutgetoutofmyhead...

Ciel. Ciel. Ciel, please.

All those wandering gazes, stolen glances, secret conversations. Reading someone from their eyes was something she was also good at. But reading her fiance's was a different story. And so was hers.

Or is my fair lady just ignorant?

i can't help myself from lookin for you

Shutupshutupshutup! She screams into her head, her nails digging in to her desk.

"My lady! You'll hurt yourself, please!"

"Ciel! Do you want to go to the new park with me? Father said it was really pretty!" She holds his hands with a happy mood.

"Ah, uhhh," he glances at her with a subtle hesitant look, "we can't leave her alone, Elizabeth. Maybe another time?" He offers instead.

Lizzy can see through that unbothered facade in his glance.

But she ignored it.

i set fire to the rain

"Brother said he could look after them this time! Can we go to the park, pleaaaase?" She pleads at him with her usual puppy gaze that would always make him red.

He sighs and nods, seemingly giving up. "Alright, then."

He wasn't flustered like he always was. She ignores all the voices in her head and smiles, taking his hand in hers and lifting them together.

"Yay! Ciel is really the best!" No reaction again.

watched it pour as i touched your face

"Sebastian, have Snake stay here." He turns to her. "Let's go, Elizabeth." He offers his hand for her to take.

She ignores how her name is back to Elizabeth.

She smiles again and takes his hand. "I'm excited!" But the bad feeling in her stomach says otherwise.

And she ignores the alarms in her head when he looks back at her before entering the carriage.

well, it burned while i cry

How could have she missed those? She ruffles her hair agressively, messing her pigtails slightly.

"Lizzy...." She hears her brother.

Oh, fair lady, you didn't miss them...

Shutup! She screams in her head again.

... you chose to ignore them.

Get the fuck out of my head!

Why?

Getoutgetoutgetout!

Why is that?

You're not real!

Why the ignorance, my fair lady?

Stop putting things to my head! She writes more aggressively, the paper is starting to tear.

"My lady, the paper is already..."

"Lizzy, that's enough..."

Are you trying to turn that paper into you?

Shut the fuck up. She ignores everyone and continues writing.

To my Ciel,

Torn?

'cause i heard it screaming out your name

Everyone but that voice.

Ofcourse you do, fair lady, afterall....

Her Ciel is really a danger magnet. A moment, they were just walking, and then another, they're suddenly solving a case.

"Murdered for revenge, then." He concludes. "Let's wrap this up---" He was cut off by her.

"It's not over yet, Earl." She said, staring at the corpse with an observant look.

"Are you saying I'm wrong?" Ciel didn't look offended nor insulted, infact, he looked.... interested and amused.

She ignored it. She worried that he might get offended with whatever she would say.

Oh, fucking stupid could she be?

She smiled to the eye, "Oh, not at all, my lord, by not over yet, I meant," when she opened her eyes, there was something to it. There was something that changed with her smile, her eyes. "there's someone else behind the scenes."

She shivered.

She felt chills on her spine. This was the kind of face her Ciel made when he perfectly solves a puzzle or wins their games.

Ciel raised a brow. "Oh, a third party?"

The look on his face made her want to vomit.

Ciel, why are you looking at them like that? Stop making that face, stop looking at them like that. Stop looking like that if it isn't for me. Stop looking at them. Stop... Just stopstopstopstop

But she ignored it.

i set fire to the rain

"Elizabeth, let's go."

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?"

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?"

"Ah, this is Elizabeth, my... betrothed."

"Elizabeth, where is she?"

"Elizabeth...."

"Elizabeth...."

NO STOP CALLING ME THAT! IT'S LIZZY! LIZZY! WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME LIKE THAT AGAIN?!

When did it start going back to how it used to be? When did it start to fade? When did it start to fall? When did he stop loving her? When did he stat loving her?

Oh god, save my sanity..... She begged anyone above.

...I'm the only reality you have left.

and i threw us into the flames

She had tried everything. She had tried to convince him not to break their engagement, disguising it as for the sake of their family's convenience. For the sake of their reputations. For the sake of his parents. For the sake of their titles. For the sake of her sanity.

He hadn't lied to her. But he hadn't told her everything either.

He had told her he doesn't reciprocate her feelings anymore. He had told her that his desire for his goal was stronger.

He had told her every shared feelings they had were back when they were kids.

Now that, was a fucking lie. She almost smiled bitterly, she did in her head.

She had seen his tolerance of her become fondess. She had seen his frowns turn to genuine smiles. She had seen his lifeless actions turn to sincere efforts.

But then again, it had all changed when she came, didn't it?

when it fell,

Elizabeth wanted to curse her. To swear her name to every possible creature there is. She wanted to scream at her. To shout. To yell. To accuse. To beg her.

To beg them not to take away her Ciel again.

But she can't do that to her friend, can she?

She doesn't want to lose him again.

Not again, please. Not again. I just got him back. She cries.

She feels her brother begin rubbing her back. "Lizzy...."

She had done everything.

Yet why had he still sent a letter breaking off everything they had?

"Elizabeth, this is for the best."

You're cruel, Ciel.

"Lizzy, I'm sorry."

You're so fucking cruel.

something died

Something inside her snapped as she screamed and stood up, throwing everything off her desk, crying.

"Elizabeth!" Her brother exclaimed, trying to stop her.

"Milady!"

"No! Stop calling me that! Stop calling me that!" She screams again, struggling in her brother's grip.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, alright, alright, I'm sorry... I'm sorry." Her brother's voice cracked. It hurt him to see his beloved sister like this.

She cried and cried, now sitting on the floor, a hand on her forehead. Her pigtails were ruined, her face was red.

"Why? Why?!"

Edward stayed silent, sitting beside her and pulling her into his embrace and letting her vent.

"Why, brother? I had done everything. I would do anything and everything. All he needs to do is to ask. I had done everything to make him— us happy. And I would do everything all over again to make us happy. BUT WHY?!"

Edward burried her head on his shoulder, letting her cry against it. Tears were rimming his eyes, how had his sweet, jolly sister come to this? He wished he had an answer for her, but even he did not know.

He had witnessed everything his sister planned just to make her fiance smile again. He had witnessed everything she had done just to make him reciprocate her actions, her feelings.

He had witnessed how broken she was when the Phantomhive Manor burned down. He had witnessed her go back to her jolly self when Ciel had come back. He had witnessed her force herself to be optimistic despite Ciel's subtle rejections. He had witnessed her telling herself not to give up. He had witnessed her cry everynight. He had witnessed her cry herself to sleep when she's tired. And he had witnessed her come back again when she finished resting.

And no one knows how heartbroken he was when he realized his sister's rest was crying.

Everything she worked so hard for, the things she poured her whole heart and soul for, vanished in just a blink of an eye.

And now it's back to square one again. Except,

The other steps are now ashes.

'cause i knew that that was the last time

The voice in her head had faded.

Was it because she's broken her delusions now?

But the price to pay was her broken self.

"Brother, I don't know what to anymore..." She cried and cried again. But what could she do? Everything is gone now.

Everything fell into ashes.

"Please..... help me..."

He didn't want to see her burn with the remains of his cousin's old self.

Please, save my sister...

So he begs with her.

the last time

And now, she stands with everyone as they witness the becoming of the new Countess of the Phantomhive Household.

Now, she stands with so many people as she witnesses the union of the people that broke her before.

But now, she stands with her healing self, witnessing the wedding of the two people she hold dear in heart.

Now, she looks at them without breaking.

oh, oh, no

She smiles as she remembers how she reacted when she received an invitation to their wedding in France.

After the events in her room years ago, her brother took her to France as an attempt to calm her nerves.

It was hard, so hard, to not think about everything that had happened. Whenever she sees herself, or anything that remind her of herself, she remembers everything. But he had grown to love France, and had decided to stay there. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than being in London.

For several years, she had studied and had let herself heal there. She trained and trained, venting out her sadness, anger, her frustration inti the force of her sword. She let herself become someone new.

Sometimes, she thought about what she would do if she ever comes face to face with them again. Would she scream? Would she cry? Would she curse? Would she just smile?

So when she received an invitation, she didn't know what to feel.

And so it brought her comfort when she came to a realization that she didn't feel anything.

It wasn't what she really wanted. She wanted to heal and be able to feel happy for them. But it was something.

It was better than nothing.

And so she stares at them with nothing a but smile. She stares at them with a smile that has nothing.

She felt a little guilty that she couldn't feel happy for them. But she felt happy for herself.

She felt happy that she doesn't hold any bad feelings against them anymore.

She couldn't be happy for them, but she isn't mad either. And it was enough for her. Baby steps, she thinks, and smiled again.

She feels nothing as she was introduced as her maid of honor. She feels nothing even when she tells her Elizabeth was her one true friend, as she didn't have a life of an extrovert. She feels nothing when Ciel greets her. She feels nothing when both of them come to hug her. She feels nothing as she walks through to church. She feels nothing as she greets everyone with a smile that held nothing but happiness for herself.

She feels nothing as she gives her speech as the maid of honor.

And she feels happy as she only thinks of herself now. She feels happy as she lets herself feel nothing to heal. She feels happy as she only cares for herself now.

She feels happy because she gets to do what she couldn't do for herself before.

She placed ointments and medicines to her burns herself, and she wasn't going to let herself go through that painful fire anymore.

And now, she stands before everyone as Lady Knight Cordelia.

So let her feelings burn along with her old self.

let it burn

[lovezbrownies]

Protective. (Yandere Chief of Military x Reader.)

Masterlist

Synopsis: Someone tries to threaten you and Gen doesn't take kindly to that.

Gen Ludenhart x Reader

Warnings: Honestly kinda tame, threats, Gen controlling you, using term ''doll'' but overall Gender neutral reader, bullying, harassment, possessive behaviour, mentions of physical torture to reader.

word count: 1,877

Gen was invited to a gathering by some aristocrat she’s buddy-buddy with. Which meant by extension you were also invited, even if you didn’t know anyone at these gatherings Gen loved to show off her decorated show pony, so whether you liked it or not you will end up going with her. Gen’s favorite part is playing dress-up with you, choosing what you wear and coordinating it all so well. At every event you’ve attended with your wife you’ve somehow managed to outdo the host and entire venue– even with the simplest outfits you looked ethereal. You and Gen were known for being a very attractive pair with an attractive sense of style.

If you ever showed interest in makeup Gen will put some on you. She’s been an avid makeup lover since her youth. Gen knows all the latest trends, newest products, and what will or won’t work on your skin texture. This obsession with makeup never really translated into skincare since she’s been blessed with clear skin since birth. But nonetheless this girl loves it when you let her put makeup on you– not to make you look better, but to enhance your features and play around with new styles of makeup. You best know she will straddle you while doing your makeup.

Moving on to hair. This will vary depending on what you have now. If you’re bald she will draw intricate patterns on your scalp if you allow her to. If you have short tomboyish hair, Gen will gel it up and style it in many different ways. If you have a bob, Gen will be a little stuck on what to do at first but after searching for cute bob styles in magazines she would absolutely have fun with your bob. If you have shoulder-length hair, the hair ties start to make their appearance as well as curling rollers and other traditional methods of changing hair texture. If you have waist-length hair, this woman would go wild with different types of buns, a lot of bobby pins, and a lot of hair accessories.

If you suggest doing anything for Gen, she would actually laugh. Loudly, like a hyena. Cute, but no way. She will definitely mention this comment to her brother and friends. Gen loves you, and has the confidence that you might have some taste in fashion, but she knows she’s better at this than you, plus she enjoys dressing up her little housespouse like a little doll. But most important of all she’s set a standard at this point, if Gen allowed you to dress her up it would humiliate her! No one, afterall, can match her fashion taste. Not even you. That is the harsh truth of it all.

All that aside, even if she controlled every aspect of your life, to the very fabric and material you wear, you had to admit you always looked fabulous when you were allowed to go out. Like today’s event, you and Gen were dressed to the nines outshining all who attended. Of course, being so glamorous came with its downsides. Like Anna for example, who’s an extremely rich viscountess. She hosts a great deal of the events you two attend. 

Anna used to love Gen, of course before Gen’s sudden engagement announcement and her introduction to you. Gen and Anna didn’t have a romantic history, but a sexual one. Gen didn’t want to be in a relationship and Anna was okay with that. Until Gen completely iced Anna out. The poor girl would go to Gen’s estate, begging to see Gen– Yet she was never allowed. Well, safe to say Anna found out the hard way why. Months had passed, and Anna was still hung up on Gen, that was until she got a letter that explained it all. Actually everyone of noble descent had got one. An invitation letter to Gen Ludenhart’s engagement party. To a random person no one’s ever heard of. Anna was heartbroken.

You may ask ‘Well can’t she just not invite Chief Gen and her arm candy?’ No. Anna could only wish to do so. You two were quite popular for being the sexy romantic couple with an enchanting love story. (Made up by Gen.) If she were to uninvite the hottest couple of nobility it would be a complete faux pas, not a soul would ever attend whatever event she’d hold. So Anna tries her best to hold it in. The snide remarks against Gen and you, the glares at you, and the hateful expression that comes across her face whenever you two are mentioned.

This gathering, like many others, was nothing special. You think it was to formally introduce each other to this new noble or something, you weren’t sure and you didn’t care. You barely liked to talk with these people to begin with, always asking personal questions and making you uncomfortable. Gen liked to talk, so you let her, maybe the only advantage of having her as your wife. Thankfully, Gen was more lenient when it came to social gatherings like these, everyone knew you were hers so she felt it safe enough to let you do as you please. Which leads you to where you currently are.

Peacefully watching the night sky in one of Anna’s gardens, sitting on a stone bench. It was incredibly overwhelming inside that mansion, many many nobles are attending tonight, so with Gen’s permission you walked off with a drink and a plate of some food you got from the buffet stand. Although you hated these gatherings, you loved this garden. You almost envy how carefree and rich Lady Anna is, with a big mansion, complete freedom to do as she liked, and no Gen in her life. That’s what you always dreamt of. But alas it’s just a dream.

The sound of footsteps broke your train of thought, looking over you see Lady Anna herself. Well, speak of the devil. She smiled stiffly at you, “Ah, I always can find you here can’t I? It’s quite ironic really,” You cocked your head to the side, confused on what she’s trying to say. “You use Chief Gen’s status to weasel your way into noble society yet you won’t even try to get along with the rest of us. I always knew you were using poor Gennie.” You furrowed your brows, what the fuck is she talking about. If anything, Gen's is the one using you. You barely even want her!

You got up, not wanting to listen to her ramblings any longer. “I don’t know what you are talking about, my Lady, but I must return before Gen worries, excuse me.” You kept it civil, just as Gen taught you. You tried to walk past Anna but she grabbed your arm faster than you can process. “You listen to me, you gold digger. I don’t want you here. Never ever come back to my estate ever again, but do not mention any of this to little Gennie or else I will make you pay. You got that?” You nodded quickly, just wanting to get away from her and return to your wife. You definitely were going to tell Gen, while the offer was tempting, Gen would find out one way or another and she would become upset at you for not telling her sooner.

The rest of the night you stuck to Gen, never ever leaving her side. It wasn’t that you’re fearful of Anna, but you just wanted to avoid her. Eventually once you got home you didn’t yet mention what happened, you and Gen were quite tired and went to sleep. But the next day during breakfast. “Gen?” Gen looked up from the newspaper she was reading, “Yes, my love.” You twiddled with your thumbs, unsure how to put together the words. “How do you feel about Lady Anna?” Gen froze up a little, did you find out about her fling with that woman? That was way before your relationship so why would you be upset? 

Gen sighed, “Why do you ask? Did she say anything to you?”

You locked eyes with her finally. “Actually… Yeah.”

You then told her the gist of what Anna had said to you, but Gen demanded to be told evey tiny detail, which led to a long discussion which ended with Gen saying, “I’ll take care of it, dear, don’t worry your little head over it.” After that she went off to work, her return however was much later than usual. She’d usually be home by 6 PM, today Gen came home at 9 PM, a bright smile on her face 

You were lying in bed, sleep escaped you, worry filling every corner of your mind, not in relation to what happened to Gen, but more to if she went to Anna’s residence and… took her life away. Your myriad of thoughts were interrupted by your wife’s voice “Honey!~ I missed you!!” Just as you were about to sit up to look at her, she had fully tackled you, wrapping her arms around your midsection. “Whew what a long day! Wish I came home sooner~ Think it’s too late for any extra activities?~”  Gen sported a devious smirk on her face, you were absolutely baffled at how carefree she acted.

“I- Did you kill her?”

“Who?”

“Anna! Did you kill Lady Anna!” Your outburst surprised Gen, she’d trained you enough not to yell at her like that anymore. Looks like this situation seriously frazzled her darling. Oh you sweet thing. Gen tightened her hold on you, feeling slightly overprotective of your emotions. “How cute you are, angel. But no, unfortunately I can't because she's a very important woman. I only taught her a lesson using my words.” She snuggled deeper into you, covering the both of you with the blanket she looked up at you seductively. “Now, sleep or do you want to have se-’’ You closed your eyes shut. “I’m asleep! I’m asleep!” 

Strangely enough, Lady Anna hasn’t hosted a party for two months, no one knows why she’s been so quiet and isolated for so long! Well except for you and Gen. But today was Lady Anna’s long awaited birthday ball. Lady Anna looked extravagant, but it looks like she hasn’t been sleeping much. Maybe that’s why, maybe she’s sick, maybe she’s dying, maybe a night time lover. People all around whispering rumors about the viscountess. Yet when the favorite romantic couple entered, all went silent.

Gen knew everyone was watching you two, her hand tightening its hold on your hips, pulling you as close as possible to her. This time Gen went all out with your outfits. You were wearing matching elegant navy blue clothes. You and your wife were sparkling in jewelry and elegance. Completely outdoing the birthday girl on her own birthday. When anyone would ask Gen would just say that Lady Anna had paid for the entirety of your outfits, which she did, forcibly by Gen. That Anna had asked them to wear such extravagant clothes while she herself was wearing the blandest of pinks.

People marvel at the pair's beauty, Gen holding onto you like you’re her lifeline, as Anna stares at the two, being forgotten about on her own birthday.

[yanderefarm]

.......war lord orc reader and stolen elf bride Nephite, Nephite not even being able to fully process whats happened, before he's thrown onto a bed of furs with a strange potion forced down his throat, and suddenly he feels so hot and wet, he doesnt even fully realize that all the whimpers and whines he's hearing are coming from him, and of course when he finally catches readers scent he's immediately spreading his legs for the large alpha looming over him, and when reader finally starts pushing his cock in Nephite screams and whines from already feeling like he's being split in two, babbling about how he cant take anymore, reader ignoring him of course, afterall thats whats the potion was for, to turn the small little elf breeding bitch into the perfect hole for orc cock, and he will take readers cock, he doesnt have a choice, he's readers perfect toy now, just the perfect size and shape for ready to grab and bounce up and down on his cock after or even before battle, Nephite might as well be a doll to reader, simply tossing him onto the bed when theyre done with him, not even bothering to clean him up, after all he's just going to get dirty all over again the next time reader sees him, Nephite cant even try to escape barely even being to move much less walk after reader is done with him, and well if he ever does try, Reader can just take those pesky limbs, a fuck hole doesnt need limbs now does it :)

-🥔

i literally can't stop thinking about this i want to make a full fic out of it but here's a little blurb

cw;; nsft, slavery, noncon, abuse, dead dove

he was one of your many spoils of war, a cute prissy little elf who spent his day thinking about flowers and animals. a week ago he'd been decorated in beautiful silks and golden threads and dainty flowers, now he was naked and his legs caked in mud with scratches from tree branches along his skin. it seemed like the long trek was finally over though as you brought him and the other elves into your base camp. why nephite assumed that meant things would get easier could only be the foolishness of a sheltered elf.

your men were rough with the elves, manhandling their naked bodies as they cleaned off the muk and grime from the travels. you watched in amusement as the high and noble elves were humiliated and bruised by your over eager men's roughhousing. one of your eager young studs tried to grope the one you laid claim to so you had to step in and give him a wallop. you grabbed a fistful of nephite's beautiful long hair and dragged him upwards for the rest of your men to see.

"mine." you shook his pathetically frail body. "mine." one of your large hands slapped over his stomach. "mine." finally your rough hand groped between his legs.

after your display no one touched him inappropriately again. instead once his body was clean he was forced to sit on the ground next to your thick legs while he watched in horror. your fellow orcs were excitedly sheering the other stuck up elves of their treasured hair, leaving many of them sobbing. you reached down and pet his long hair.

"i like your hair." was the only reassurance he got that he wasn't going to meet that same cruelty. atleast not today.

but your camp's cruelty didn't end there. once again all he could do was watch as his neighbors and friends were divided up among you. the unwanted elves were going to be sold to other villages or worse in black market auctions. while some were picked to become work mules, the more effeminate and dainty the elf the more likely they were going to be humiliated with the work of oxen. some were chosen to be used as furniture or decoration even. but arguably the unluckiest of all were the ones chosen to become "wives".

a bastardization of a term meant for love and endearment. it meant they were going to be degraded even further. a strange liquid was forced on them and then they would perform a mocking version of an elven wedding. the elf in question would be forced to swear commitment to the orc's thick cock in front of everyone. some of the orcs forced their wives to kiss their cocks to seal the ceremony while still others would force the elves to lick their assholes to humiliate them further.

eventually the liquid is brought to you and you take the whole bottle and shove the neck into nephite's mouth until he gags. you grab his nose so he has no choice but to swallow down all of the shockingly sweet liquid.

"we'll hold a proper ceremony for my little wife later."

he's dizzy, he can barely stand when you make it to your bed. he's tossed onto the bed without much care and you let him stew a little longer. it's not until you notice him touching himself that you take action. you force his hands behind his back as you push his face into your pillow. you let him enjoy the feeling of your thick cock rutting against his tiny body and it earns you the smallest moan.

"you know why I'm not making you get married to me yet?" you pull some of his hair back as your heavy breath hits his neck. "I'm gonna give you a choice. when im done with you im gonna ask if you want to marry my cock or you want to go home. if you can stay stubborn and determined you'll get to go back to being a pretty prissy little bitch. but me? .... i think you're gonna be begging to marry my cock like the whore you really are."

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 6: Through Life and After Death

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)―missionary, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not endorse), loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, sir kink if you squint, "fucked dumb" (lol), language ❧ Word Count: 15k (I am so sorry.)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: With the threat of Negan and the Saviors' imminent return heavy on your mind, you find solace in one last excursion outside the castle walls, with your knight. A chance discovery, and the knowledge that this may be your last moment alone with him, leads you to the logical conclusion of your longing.

❧ A/N: Babe, wake up. The knight and the princess are about to boink. Btw I wrote most of this while I’m on my period so that might explain a lot.

The night before last had haunted you, tormented you, until you saw Sir Negan’s arrogant face in every shadow in your bedroom, every darkened corner of the castle, and even every forlorn hollow amongst the foliage in the courtyard where you took your afternoon strolls. 

Your own home became a house of horrors, and now, you could not stand to be there another minute. 

Before that night, the castle was only a place of sadness for you, but now, it was a looming threat, with each rising and setting of the sun marking another day closer to the day he would come back. You couldn’t even bear to speak his name, so you didn’t. You couldn’t, as though somehow even using your voice to acknowledge his existence was giving him more power. And yet, it was impossible to avoid the plague of unease that the man had infected you with. 

Afterall, your situation was dire, no matter what transpired in the coming days leading up to his return. If your father decided to appease Negan, the best option for the survival of the kingdom, it would mean you’d be given to him willingly, taken to the Sanctuary to be his wife. If your father refused to give you to him, you’d be taken by force, and there was no way that Alexandria’s now weakened defenses could fight the Saviors from taking you―they were going to take you, no matter what. There was no outcome that would be in your favor. You were going to be Negan’s now, and you had to accept it.

But you didn’t. 

Late last night, the king had left Alexandria in the hopes of making alliances with neighboring kingdoms against the Saviors in a last ditch effort to fight them. It was a noble pursuit, but worthless. Even with the help of the other provinces, the Saviors had weakened those kingdoms as well. Their armories were ransacked, and their numbers were increasingly dwindling. Still, you took advantage of your father’s absence―for one last excursion outside the walls before you’d surely be ripped away from your home in a matter of days. 

It was the easiest breakout yet, given the lack of guards roaming the corridors of the castle. The journey through the tunnel was quiet, none of the usual talk of knighthood or herbalism or the knight’s stories of his adventures in exotic, faraway lands. It wasn’t until the meadow when you asked Sir Daryl to treat this day just the same as the others―as if nothing had changed, and this wasn’t your last journey with him. 

And so, the knight being simply unable to refuse your wishes, he buried his sorrows to speak of things that pleased you, and you continued regaling him with quotes from your favorite tales and poems, all of which he listened to attentively, pulling Phantom’s reins as you both approached the familiar little cottage, its new outer walls now the first thing you saw.

It was only recently that Sir Daryl had commissioned a mason to build the protective border round the little house, an additional safety precaution to keep the walkers out, he said. Sometimes, you wondered if he’d had that built just for you to be safe, but perhaps that was a self-centered thought. The notion still produced a fluttering feeling in your abdomen, one that you became accustomed to since you first felt them with him. It was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever had, and no matter how you experimented to see if any other source of happiness could replicate that feeling, you always failed. 

The sun was setting now, the usual ending to the usual day out, only now, the knight had offered to prepare you a real supper, not just the usual loaves of bread and rosemary butter. This eve, he was set on something special―venison he’d hunted himself just days prior, accompanied by vegetables you’d collected from the cottage garden, many of which you’d never even tried before. “Peasants’ grub” the nobles called them, but they were simple potatoes, onions, cabbages, leeks, carrots… Everything you’d need for a good stew. 

But Daryl would not let you lift a finger, relegating you to sitting upon one of the straw-filled pillows strewn about on the floor, just a handful of feet from the warm lit hearth, where Daryl stood laboring over a steaming pot. 

“Are you sure you do not need any help?” you peeped, though you and he both knew that you had less skill in cooking than him. In fact, you’d never even cut a vegetable before today. That was simply not your responsibility.

He looked at you through curling smoke, his eyebrow raised at the notion. “Told ya I’d do it. Isn’t much left to do, anyway… Just gotta let it cook a bit more.”

With your posture as straight and perfect as ever, you nodded and wrapped the blanket he always gave you tighter around your body. At this point, it smelled distinctly of your sweet perfume. “Thank you again, Daryl. I know… I know this is not the most ideal time to leave the castle, but I could not stand to be there another second. I swear I can still smell that man’s stench.”

Daryl swallowed hard before clearing his throat, disturbed by the very thought of him, the man who he knew he could not stop from taking you, but he’d do anything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He’d thought of many things, in fact. He hadn’t slept in two nights, the time spent instead thinking of ways to stop Negan, but they all had their weaknesses. Of course, his first thought was to hide you, to take you away from the castle and keep you somewhere else, but that wouldn’t stop the Saviors from pillaging Alexandria, from killing more people. The one thing keeping Negan from destroying the kingdom was you, and even then, it was still uncertain. 

And killing Negan and enough of the Saviors to render them powerless was next to impossible. Alexandria was a small kingdom anyway, and now it had dwindled down to almost the size of a large village, with hardly any defenses or military-trained citizens to even stand a chance against an army of the Saviors’ size. The situation was hopeless, and he hated that all he could do was wait. 

“But it’s nice to be here,” you said. “I like it here… With you.”

He met your sweet smile with a boyishly lopsided one. The man was quite a bit older than you, but he had a youthfulness about him you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was in his eyes, which glimmered just as brightly as you’d imagined they had when he was closer to your own age. His face was weathered, but mostly, he was very handsome to you, with a softness to his features that mesmerized you at times. 

Particularly, you’d developed a fascination with his lips, the way they moved. He had a habit of folding in his lower lip and chewing on it, especially when deep in thought. Sometimes he’d purse them to the side when he was frustrated, or the top lip would snarl a bit when he killed a walker. You’d become attuned to the patterns of his smiles, grins, and smirks. Your favorites were the ones like this, uneven and slightly bashful, as though you’d said something that flattered him. 

You’d been flattering him a lot more lately, you realized. Perhaps your attraction to him was becoming more and more difficult to hide. Strangely, you did not feel the usual urge to combat it. Maybe it was the particular kind of heat from the hearth that evening or the way his hair was pinned behind his ears to keep it out of his way as he cooked, but the fluttery feeling in your abdomen was more persistent than usual, more continuous. At some point, you knew it would be impossible to hold back, but you had to. 

“I like being with you, too,” he replied, sprinkling some freshly ground herbs into the cast iron pot. “I wish I could…” He trailed off, stopping his train of thought before he spoke improperly in front of you. 

“Could what?”

Gut Negan ‘fore he lays another finger on you. “Nothin’.”

You huffed in amusement at his shyness. “Keeping secrets from your princess,” you teased with a wiggling brow and a squint of faux offense. “That is not very knightly behavior, sir.”

My princess, he thought. Mine.

He shook his head with a huff, ridding himself of his intrusive thoughts. “Wish I could… do somethin’ for you, s’all.” 

“Oh, Daryl,” you said. “You’ve already done so much for me. There’s nothing you could do… It is in my father’s hands. Well, it is in Negan’s hands, really.”

“But it shouldn’t be like that.”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it’s how it is, no matter what. Even if Sir Negan had no interest in me, my father would expect me to marry a noble, or a prince or king from some other kingdom. He’s a good father, but he is still a king. Really, I am quite lucky he has not married me off yet. Many princesses marry men they do not love. My mother, her marriage to my father was arranged. Somehow, it worked. They grew to love each other very much. I do not believe I could ever love Sir Negan, though… Not ever. He is evil.”

I won’t let him take you, he wanted to say, but he knew that would be an empty promise. Tonight, for all he knew, could’ve been one of the last nights he’d ever see you again. One thing was certain, this was going to be the last time he took you outside the castle. The last time he could truly be alone with you. And yet, he could not work up the courage to tell you how he felt, how he cherished you much more than he should’ve, how he believed he loved you. 

“Wish I could take you away from here,” he said, his lips moving faster than his brain could process his words. “Wish you could stay here, and Negan would never find you.” When his rationality caught up with him, he cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to take back what he just said, even though he meant every word. 

“I do, too,” you said, surprising him a bit. “I wish I could, but then what would Negan do? He’d destroy Alexandria. He’d kill my people… He might even kill my father. I couldn’t let that happen. No, I have to face it. There’s nothing anyone can do, Daryl, though I appreciate how much you care about my safety.”

I love you.

Instead of voicing his thought, he eyed the weakening fire of the hearth, its flame no longer adequately heating the bottom of the pot. “I’m sworn to protect you,” he said. “As your knight.” He felt your soft gaze caressing his face like an invisible hand, though he tried to remain nonchalant as he poked at the fire. “If I let you get taken against your will, I’m not protecting you.”

That was almost amusing to you, as Daryl seemed to rarely care about performing his official knightly duties. When it came to you, though, he took his job quite seriously. In fact, you began to wonder if he cared more about protecting you than his own lord to whom he owed fealty. What he owed to you meant much more than mere feudalism, though. What he owed to you was his mind, body, and soul. 

“And I am sworn to protect my kingdom. If I run away, I am endangering my kingdom.”

That all being said, the idea of Daryl taking you far away from all your troubles was dangerously tempting, to the point that you forgot to breathe for a moment, until it came back to you in the form of a heavy swallowing of air.

“I do not want anyone else to die,” you continued. “I… certainly do not want you to die fighting for me, Daryl, though I am so very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. In truth, I don’t think I have ever felt as close to someone as I feel with you.”

There was more you wished to say, and it seemed as though Daryl had something on the tip of his tongue, but once again, he held himself back, despite every cell in his body screaming out to you professions of love and adoration that had only grown stronger with each passing moment he’d known you. With every way he’d begun to see you for who you were, he fell harder in love. With every angle of you he feasted upon with starving eyes that tore themselves away despite their hunger, he grew more desperate, more bereft of your warm, soft, supple body that he dreamed of cherishing and worshipping every waking moment of everyday. 

God, he couldn’t keep you from his mind, your presence overwhelming and intoxicating and mesmerizing, even in this moment when your voice spoke so innocently and with the dignity and poise of a princess. That’s what you were, he had to remember—a princess. He was a knight. He needed to know his place… Though it was becoming increasingly harder to do so.

With the heady air of silence meandering between you in the tiny hovel, Daryl concentrated on rousing the flame of the hearth, but there was nothing he could do to build it up again without collecting more firewood to fuel it. It was the perfect moment to excuse himself and go out to gather tinder while he collected himself, before he did or said something… improper. 

In fact, he swore that if he opened his mouth now, he’d wax poetic about all the sinful thoughts he’d tried to keep at bay. Only your voice stopped him from heading out without an explanation.

“Where are you going, knight?”

He palmed at his forehead with a huff, remembering that he was in a social situation, with a sacred woman he cared for too tenderly. He couldn’t just leave you without saying what he was doing, after all. 

“Hearth needs more tinder,” he spoke over his shoulder as he donned his black wool cloak. “I won’t be far, just at the splitting log right outside.”

“I shall stir the stew,” you said dutifully, rising elegantly from your seat, with delicate handfuls of your dress to lift it as you crossed to the hearth. 

“Don’t poison it,” the knight replied, to which you flashed him a smirk. 

“Why ever would I do such a thing? That would be foolish, anyway. I am going to eat the stew, too.” He turned to look your way. It was a mistake. He got lost in your face, your cheeks high and full with your smile, and your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dying fire. “Hurry along, now,” you said, your voice low now, almost husky. “You mustn’t keep me waiting.”

You did not intend the phrase to sound… suggestive, but perhaps your emotions were beginning to cloud your better judgment, and now every word you spoke betrayed you. 

“I won’t,” he replied, a barely audible crack in his voice, though you chalked it up to his already raspy way of speaking. “Be right back.”

Before leaving, he took up the splitting maul he kept beside the door, a burst of cold from the spring night air chilling you for a moment as the door swung shut. Absent-mindedly, you found yourself studying the stew as you stirred it. You tilted your head in amused curiosity at the simple, yet appetizing, concoction. Whatever mix of herbs Daryl had thrown together had created a pleasant kind of aroma that filled the small one-room cottage with a comforting warmth.

A mischievous grin spread across your face as you thought to taste a bit of the stew before Daryl came back. Afterall, it couldn’t hurt to get a small sampling. Careful to get a little bit of everything in your spoonful, you purposefully sought out a large chunk of perfectly cooked-through venison. Raising the large wooden spoon to your pursed lips, you tasted the warm soup, letting it sit on your tongue for a few thoughtful moments as you attempted to study every flavor and texture. 

Though the stew was undoubtedly delicious, it was still missing something. You’d seen Daryl sprinkle several different herbs and spices, but it lacked the savory, peppery taste of one of your favorite herbs: sage. 

There was a tall wooden pantry across the room, where Daryl had stored most of his dry ingredients. You quickly crossed to the cabinet, your eyes looking back every few moments to keep an eye on the rolling boil of the stew. The pantry doors opened with a creak, you biting your lip and furrowing your brow as you scanned the dim shelves for the dried herb you sought. Daryl had an impressive selection of both culinary and medicinal ingredients, each jarred in their own glasses with a label of faded paper glued to its side, indicating the ingredients’ names. You’d pushed back several jars, all of which weren’t the dried sage you were looking for. 

He had everything—rosemary, saffron, ginger, grains of paradise, cloves, parsley, cinnamon, spikenard, alecost, thyme, southernwood… Everything but sage. “Good heavens, sage cannot be that difficult to come by, can it?” you spoke to yourself. “Sage… Sage…” You began to impatiently rearrange the jars, rereading each one a few times to ensure you weren’t going mad, though it began to feel like it. “How could he not have—”

You’d reached the back of the dusty old shelf, where no more pesky jars of spices and herbs could taunt you. Instead, a lone small chest of plain cedarwood sat undisturbed against the back wall of the cupboard. It wouldn’t have fazed you, as you’d most logically assume it was just another container for some special exotic spice, but what had silenced you and your mumbled self-ramblings was the chain of iridescent white pearls that poured out from the little chest, rendering the lid slightly ajar, but just open enough for your to catch a brief sparkle twinkling in the darkness. 

And those pearls… You recognized them.

They weren’t cheap freshwater pearls, the kind you could get from any silver-tongued peddler on the street in Alexandria’s market district. No, they were distinctive… Their luster and nearly perfect roundness betraying their expensive nature. Akoya pearls, you recalled the explorer saying. It was not long before the Scourge broke out, when you were just fifteen. The only jewels you had kept now were those inherited from your mother or family heirlooms. The pearls were beautiful, and they were important to you, but they were sacrifices you had made in the name of gratitude for the knight’s kindness.

You gave them to him, but under the impression that he’d sell them.

Why would he keep this?

But it wasn’t just one necklace, no. The faint glimmer of light from deep within the box enticed you, leading you to lift the lid, despite your high-society etiquette telling you that snooping around in other people’s things was hardly becoming behavior. You believed, though, that you had a right to see. That was once your necklace, after all.

There was more, just as you’d suspected. The box was brimming with a colorful assortment of precious jewels from your collection, all of which you’d had distinct memories of gifting to the knight after each excursion he’d accompanied you on. Pulling the box forward, you stared wide-eyed as you rummaged through, recognizing each and every piece—the pair of pearl and amethyst earrings, the ruby and silver brooch, the gilded ring of jade with an intricate claw setting, the red coral rosary given to you at your first Holy Communion, the repoussé chaplet set with refined diamonds and sapphires… Each trinket was unique, and undeniably yours. 

There were a few possible explanations you could think of. The first explanation, and the most logical, was that Sir Daryl was saving your jewels for a rainy day, intent on selling them all together for a larger sum. The second, and the most amusing to you, was that he was wearing the jewelry himself, and he was hiding them to spare himself the embarrassment. The third, and the most worrisome, was that there was a lady he was intent upon giving your jewelry to, or at least that he was keeping the jewels in the event that he would find a lady to woo. This thought made your heart race, but not in the way it usually did when the knight crossed your mind. 

But all these explanations were useless to you. There was no way of knowing now exactly why he kept your jewelry. Perhaps it meant nothing at all, but you couldn’t let it go. You needed to know, otherwise you’d never think clearly again. Without your sage, you replaced the chest and its contents to close the cupboard and return to the boiling pot, though not without a nervous pitter patter in your chest.

You were startled from your thoughts with a jump and a gasp when the knight kicked open the front door, a pile of freshly cut logs in his arms. He cursed himself for his lack of grace. 

“Y’all right?” he asked, keeping a concerned eye on you as he crossed to the hearth to prepare the fire. 

“Fine,” you replied with a nod. “Stew’s ready, I think.”

He furrowed his brow at that statement, then responded with a slight chuckle to his voice. “How do you know?”

“I tasted it,” you said. “It’s ready.”

“Yes, your highness,” he replied with a huff, amused by your certainty. 

At length, he procured two wooden bowls and two silver spoons, the both of you settling for casual seating in front of the hearth, sitting upon the floor cushions with criss-crossed legs and a strange silence between you. Silences like this were uncommon. Of course, whenever it was quiet between you, there was always this presence of heaviness, as though something needed to be said by one of you, or both, but right now, there was no comfort to it. Now, the weight had become so unbearable that there would be no comfort to this usually pleasant silence until one of you spoke. 

And it had to be you. You were the one who had seen the chest, who knew now that Daryl kept all those payments for whatever reason instead of cashing them in. You had to know why, there was no other way around it. 

You only hoped he wouldn’t resent you for it.

“Daryl?” You let your spoon clink against the side of the wooden bowl as you relished the recent aftertaste of the savory soup. “May I ask you something?”

He was hoping you would. He’d spent enough time with you, had known all your habits and quirks and idiosyncrasies, that he knew when there was something on your mind. Given the weight of this silence, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his off-white chemise. You took extra care not to become distracted by the crop of pale brown, wiry chest hairs just barely visible at his loosely laced up collar.

Without even noticing, you licked your lips as you thought of what to say, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. Afterall, you’d gone snooping about in his pantry. Still, you believed you had a right to know.

To focus on your words, you set your near-empty bowl on the stone edge of the hearth. You straightened to sit up taller, your hands carefully folded in your lap. You looked like the picture of a princess, except in your eyes. They were downturned, as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye in case your actions were misconstrued as mischief. “When you were out chopping wood,” you began with a small nervous croak in your voice, “I… Well, I tried the stew, as I said, but I thought it could use some sage, you see, and so I—I looked in your pantry.”

It was then that the knight began to choke on a chunk of venison, having swallowed it too soon with the realization that you could’ve seen his jewelry box, the one he hid because of his embarrassment to admit that he kept those jewels because they were yours. No practical reason at all, just the thought of you, something part of you belonging to him. It was silly, he knew that, but to him, there was a comfort in having those trinkets. If he’d sold them, all he’d have would be measly bits of dirty metal that had been in thousands of different hands and would be in a thousand more. Those jewels were worth more than that. They were once yours. As far as he was concerned, they were still yours. 

The man turned away from you, covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow as he coughed to help the meat pass down his throat. You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled between his coughs. “Just… just…”

“Here,” you said, scooting closer to hand him a tankard of water. He waved you off, but he was still hunched over to the side and refusing to face you, both as a result of his embarrassment and his coughing fit. You huffed and spoke more harshly now. “Daryl.”

He knew that voice well enough now to know you were serious. He turned towards you slowly, taking the cup from your hands as he still sputtered our grunts between coughs. “Th—thanks.”

He choked a bit more on the water now, but only because he felt your hand soothing his back in slow, languid, yet careful, movements. “There…” Your voice was smooth and velvety, like sweet whipped cream. With each pass of your hand, you felt the silk fabric of his shirt pucker against your palm. The heat of his body drew you closer subconsciously, til you felt his strong, hard shoulder nearly digging into your chest. Despite your attempt to pull away, it felt too good to rid yourself of his closeness. “Better?”

With the delicate pressure of your hand caressing him, of course he felt better. He grunted in acknowledgement as he nodded, setting the tankard on the floor beside him. “Yeah… Please forgive me.”

You shook your head and laughed at that. “For what? Swallowing your food too fast?”

He felt like a blubbering fool, wiping his lips and chuckling under his breath to match your contagious giggles. But then, with a diminuendo of laughter, he realized he’d interrupted you, and he needed to know now what you were going to say, just in case you did see his hidden treasure. Well, your hidden treasure. 

“For interrupting you,” he said. “You were sayin’ something… D’ya find the sage?”

He knew full well there was no sage in that pantry. He’d run out just a few days prior.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Well, no, I…” 

You’d made the grave mistake of lifting your wide eyes to meet his, though the both of you were trying to hide your gaze from one another. It was inevitable that they would meet at some point this evening, but now that they had, you could not bear to look away, neither could he. For several moments, you could not even blink for fear of missing him and his deep, almost dark blue eyes, filled with the mystery of something nearly inscrutable, but not impossible to figure out. In fact, the more you looked, you swore you got closer to finding the answers to all the questions in his eyes. 

“Daryl,” you started again, this time holding his gaze with a nervous, fluttering blink of your curled eyelashes. “Why… Why have you not sold the jewelry I paid you with?”

There were many replies he could have made, but the only one that was remotely coherent was the one with the fewest number of words: Because I love you. 

Several heavy moments passed in silence, with only the crackling of the now roaring hearthfire filling the space where words might’ve existed if only he had the courage to speak without thinking first in this moment. This, however, was a delicate situation, and he could not face it with the usual impulsivity and carelessness that he might’ve had in other situations. 

There was a contradictory sense of both a need to profess his love to you and a need to brush it off with some lie, but how could he lie to you, his sweet princess? You were worth so much more than that to him, so much more than a paltry lie, but you were also worth more than every jewel in that box. 

“You, uh… You saw that?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you smiled bashfully. Daryl’s cheeks seemed to heat up, too. “I did. I know I had no right to look, but with the gold those jewels are worth, you could purchase your own manor and petition to become a lord. My father would happily grant you that position, I’m sure. You would not have to be a vassal. Of course, it is your property to do with as you wish, but I cannot help but wonder why.”

Titles and property were of no consequence to Daryl. They never meant much. He grew up with next to nothing, raised by poor merchants who struggled to buy a single loaf of bread. Perhaps one would think that growing up so poor would make him value money, but it was quite the opposite. It made him hate it, how it could make or break a man. No, what you gave to him was worth so much more.

“I—” He paused to think more thoroughly about what he was to say, but there was no way around it. He had to say it. “I couldn’t get rid of them. Couldn’t just give ‘em to somebody else.”

Though his words seemed sentimental, his eyes still strayed from you. Leaning forward, your heart aching with a desperate hope, you tried to coerce his eyes to meet yours. Your hand still traced invisible shapes across the broad expanse of his back. 

“Why?” You wondered if perhaps your secret fourth explanation had been correct. The more he stalled, you began to realize that it was. “Daryl…” Your other hand lifted cautiously, its movements foreign to you as your fingers delicately cradled his chin, then brought his head up until those soft, deep blue eyes greeted you. Perhaps you were torturing him, begging him to admit his feelings despite his fear, but you needed his words. That was all you’d need. You smiled to comfort him as you spoke. “Why could you not bear to sell my jewels?”

Your touch was in two places now—his back and his chin. Both points of contact were burning, a fire that spread through him and touched him in places he didn’t dare even think of at this moment. Your touch was innocent, it had to be. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise. His task was to keep you safe, to never let harm come your way. Indulging in his desires, no matter how much he wanted to, would only take advantage of the trust you and your father had in him. But, oh… The way your chest heaved against his shoulder. You were so close. So incredibly close. Almost as close as he’d imagined, in his darkened bedroom where his sordid thoughts took root. Even his dreams were full of visions of you, hazy and ethereal, like you were made of clouds. So soft, so warm.

“Daryl?” you pressed again. “Won’t you answer me, please?”

“It’s wrong,” he said quickly. “It’s all wrong.”

“No, it is not.”

“I just couldn’t… Couldn’t give part of you away.”

“Part of me?”

“Part of you,” he repeated. “Someone else, with a part of you… I can’t let anyone else have you. Those things belonged to you, so they’re precious to me. You’re precious to me.”

There. That was enough. Enough for you to know the truth, enough for you to lean even closer, your eyes nearly closed despite a sliver of vision focused on his lips, slightly agape and quivering. With your hand still holding his chin, you pulled him closer, too, his body and mind paralyzed for a moment, rendered helpless by you. 

But for a moment, when your lips were just an inch or two from his, you fluttered your eyes open to meet his. “My knight,” you whispered, the soft wind of your breath tickling his aching lips. “Kiss me.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can…” Just like that, you spoke in your most regal tone of authority, the same you’d used to threaten to have Negan executed, though this time, a little more sultry. “I am your princess, and you will do as I say, knight.”

Yes, your highness. 

With a burst of desperation rising up in his abdomen, he leaned forward to close the gap between you, not just at your lips, but at every part of you. His hands grasped hard at your waist, pulling you nearly onto his lap. Your chest was pressed so tight against his that you gasped for breath from his mouth as he kissed you, heavy breaths exhaling from his nostrils like a wild animal just freed from its cage. 

You felt one hand wildly rise up your back and tangle in your hair, loosening the lone braid at the back of your head, until cascades of hair hung freely over your shoulders and back. Your hands had no choice but to cling tight to his shoulders as his hands explored you to the extent he would allow himself, though it felt so wonderful that you wished he’d unrestrain himself even more. Just when you started to think he was becoming more unhindered, his hand slowly melting down your lower back and inching closer to your bottom, he stopped himself.

His mouth tore away from you, the cold of the night air stinging your moistened lips as they trembled, and you felt your throat already begin to swallow back a lump. “What is it?”

His hands were still on you, but he panted as he looked worryingly at you, his head shaking as if to reprimand himself, though he couldn’t hide his blown out pupils and the increasingly noticeable hardness of his lap. Still, you feared he’d deny you. 

“I can’t control myself,” he said. “If we… kept goin’…”

“I want to keep going,” you said. Your hands moved to grasp at his shirt collar, where your fingers began to undo his lace. “I want whatever you would do.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he said. “You don’t want me, princess.”

“I do want you, knight.”

“You can’t. I can’t. If your father—”

“I love you.”

He fell silent. Scared. Not of your words, but of himself, of what hearing those words in your voice did to him. They ignited a deeper, inextinguishable fire. 

“Don’t say what ya don’t mean, milady.”

A single shiny tear glimmered as it rolled down your soft rouged cheek, settling into the corner of your mouth. You weren’t sure exactly why you began to cry. Perhaps it was the idea of rejection, or the thought of Sir Negan taking you away before promising yourself to the only man you’d ever cared for, but one thing was certain: your love for him was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“I do not say things I do not mean, Sir Daryl. When I say I love you, I am speaking from my heart, and my heart would not lead me astray. I love you, and that is the truth.”

And it was his truth, too. Now, your words were enough to convince him.

He lowered his eyes, his lips turned stern. It was an earnest, serious gaze. He said what he’d been thinking for months, what he would never stop thinking no matter what. He would always love you. He would always do anything for you. It was time he made it known. “I love you.”

It was simple when he said it, but you knew it to be true by the way his hands clung tighter to your waist. Hesitantly, he raised his right hand, allowing the back of it to caress your cheek. His touch was rough, but only because of his worn skin. The way he moved was soft, gentle, sweet. Even in his evident lust, he still touched you with the innocence of a white daisy’s petals brushing against your skin. 

Hesitantly, he let his lips ghost your other cheek as you exhaled a heavy breath against his neck. “Daryl,” you whispered. He kissed your skin, his lips spread open and tongue just barely stretching out to tickle you. As he moved his mouth lower, dragging sloppy kisses along your jawline, his arms wrapped fully around you, tugging you against him. Your hands held tight to his shoulder blades, and you felt them flex and jolt with each movement he made as his lips met yours again. This time, his tongue breached the entrance to your mouth, finding yours and almost attacking it. In your inexperience, you only gasped against his lips, then jutted out your own tongue in an attempt to keep up with him. 

“Daryl,” you panted between his kisses. He grunted under his breath, still indulging in your taste. With your fingers on his cheeks, you pulled back for a moment, looking into his darkened eyes. You’d never seen his eyes like that before. It almost frightened you, but mostly, it only made you realize exactly what you wanted. “I want you to take my maidenhead.”

Of course, he wanted to. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he wanted to, it was a question of whether or not he should, and he knew he shouldn’t. He knew such a thing was against his code, perhaps the most egregious way to break it. The law of chivalry held all knights to a certain standard, a law that governed their every action. Sleeping with the daughter of the king he served, much less taking her virginity, would certainly be cause for execution.

“I can’t,” he said, though his eyes portrayed another answer. “You know I can’t.” You shook your head, opening your mouth to latch onto his jawline, kissing him as he’d kissed you. He muttered your name, though he could not tear you away, your sweet lips wetting his skin as your hand combed through his hair. “It would…” 

Your hand lowered to his chest, grasping at his bare skin underneath his chemise. Your fingers seemed to tremble, your body not knowing what to do without his guidance. He grasped at your hand, though he did not push you away. He kept it there, keeping it steady. He turned to face your lips, and they trembled, too. To steady them, he raised his thumb to your plump bottom lip, moving it gently side to side. It felt like sacrilege to touch you like this, but it also felt like the most holy, sacred kind of worship. 

“It would be wrong. I’m not your husband. It would be against… Against my code of chivalry.” 

It nearly made you laugh. “You’ve already disobeyed my father and taken me outside the castle walls into walker-infested woods. You’ve done a hundred things that broke your code.” 

Leaning ever closer, you pressed your soft chest against his firm one, the heat rising between your bodies almost as strong as the roaring hearthfire that painted his face in rich, warm burnt oranges and browns. The smile on your face curled delicately as you brushed aside the curtains of his hair till they were pinned behind his ears. In this light, his face was both worn yet youthful, like an old painting of a young man. 

In a hushed, honeyed voice, you whispered against his cheek, “What’s one more?” Innocent lips coated with that floral musky balm grazed his stubbly cheek. It was not scratchy, though, it was soft and ticklish, like how your fingers felt on his chest.

For a long, torturous moment, he only held you close, his grip still tight on your waist. He leaned into your kiss, though he still was trying to cling to the last thread of chivalrous honor he had within him. That rope was threadbare, though, with only a fiber or two to hold on to, and the more your lips grazed his skin, trailing to his neck in clumsy, inexperienced movements, you felt his hand return to your hair to tangle itself in your now tousled locks. 

The low, dulcet moan escaping your lips marked the moment the tether snapped, and no longer could he say he had any respect for a code of conduct that left him bereft of your body and the pleasure he could give you, as your servant, your escort, your knight. 

With a throaty grunt, he took your mouth in his, devouring it much more deeply than he had before. There was no cautiousness now in his embrace, his hands lowering to cup both sides of your bottom as he lifted you more fully to his lap, with his legs outstretched underneath you. 

Both of you became engulfed in a tangle of limbs, furiously clawing at each other like you were both tearing at your own flesh to escape from its confines. Yourself now made taller than him as you sat upon his lap, you parted from his lips for a moment to look down at him, panting and lips shiny from your saliva, and made plump and red by his impassioned kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking up at you with hazy, dark eyes. Indeed, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever had the chance to behold. Sometimes, he did not even think himself worthy to utter your name, or to have his name uttered by you… You in your sweetness and kindness and sensitivity and grace and—

Your small laugh reawakened him. How dare he even begin to wax poetic about you in his own head when you were in his arms now, your hands on his shoulders and your chest heaving with each beautiful breath. To know you were so alive, warm and trembling in his strong arms, safe and protected… That was the greatest pleasure of all.

And yet, the carnal desire for you was quick to overwhelm him. He squeezed you tighter before leaning forward, taking you with him. “Mm!” you laughed against his lips as he kissed you. 

How he could be so gentle and yet so strong you did not know. With your back arched and your head cradled by his hands, you felt the support of your floor pillow underneath you, your legs now wrapped around his waist. 

Propping himself up by his arms to look at you, he gazed in awe, your hair sprawled out from your head in every which way like an angel’s halo made from a sunburst. Where your gown of sage green silk brocade met your breasts, he let his gaze linger. Finally. Without the worries of being improper, he could admire the gentle, supple curves of your décolletage. 

And now your gown sank down to your upper thighs, exposing much more skin than he’d ever seen—or felt. He sat up straight, his hand gently petting your soft bare calf, then moving down slowly, torturously, to touch your thigh. 

Never had you been touched like this. Not even by yourself. In fact, you felt rather foolish, stiffening a bit as your eyes widened the more he moved his hand, now lifting up the rest of your skirt.

“Daryl…” you all but whined, a moan somewhere between a begging lust and a nervous embarrassment. “I know nothing,” you said simply. “I—I—”

Your own gasp cut short your stuttering admission. “Oh.”

All you could feel was his hand cupping your mound, now completely exposed without the cover of your gown. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, each fold and crevice and speckling of your dainty hairs that matched perfectly the locks on your head. In fact, he ran his fingers through the little forest above your womanhood. It was soft, warm, untouched until now.

“You’re beautiful,” he spoke again. “Very… royal.”

“Royal?”

He laughed under his breath, biting his lip as he trailed his pointer finger around your lips, tickling you as you writhed a little. “Everything about you,” he said. “Even this… So perfect and clean and royal.”

Flushed with rose-tinted clouds of excitement and shyness, you rolled your shoulders as you watched him lick his pretty pink lips, over and over. “Have you seen many women like this, sir?”

He returned his gaze to yours with a raised, mischievous brow. Sir had never sounded so intoxicating as it did now. “None as sweet and virtuous as you.”

Indeed, he slightly feared his first movements towards intercourse. Never before had he taken a maiden’s virginity, and he was sure he’d hurt you if he was too hasty. He would have to tread carefully, though the subtle glisten of your entrance beckoned him, and those soft, intricate folds of supple flesh sparked a fire in him he’d never felt before. This was the image he’d dreamed of—your untouched womanhood naked before him, just waiting for him to release you from the bonds of chastity forevermore. 

And, oh, that moan, of which he had only gotten a sampling of. He needed more, he needed to be drowned in that sound. He needed to be the one who showed you the carnal pleasure of love, and to experience it himself, too. It would be the most potent kind of intimacy, and he wanted the both of you to be consumed by it. Together.

All he could think of, all he wanted to do, was get a mouthful of you. Drink from the fountain that was your body. 

“Can I… taste you?”

A genuine expression of innocent confusion spread across your face. “Kiss me?” Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips gently pursed, prepared to receive his sweet kiss.

“Nah, not like that,” he said, a subtle laugh under his low, gruff voice. Two calloused fingertips grazed the top junction of your lips, where an almost overwhelming tingle spread through you. Then, his fingers moved apart as they descended slowly, spreading you open. The reddish, taught flesh seemed to pulse on its own accord as your breath shuddered and your eyes widened at the strange feeling. “Here. I wanna taste you here.”

Finally understanding, and yet not understanding at all, you looked up at him with a furrowed look of concern. “Why? Is that not… unsanitary?”

An amused grin spread across his face. “Looks clean to me… They bathe you good, my princess.”

His princess. Oh, that sent an entirely new shiver through you.

But only with your permission would he do such a thing. Only with your word would he let his common tongue invade your royal maidenhead. 

So he’d beg for it, like he knew he should.

“Please,” he said, voice sweeter and softer than you’d ever heard. He even lowered himself, his lips hovering above your navel as he looked up at you with those crystal clear eyes. “Please, your highness… I will be gentle.” His hands held firm to your thighs, rubbing them softly, up and down. When his lips met your abdomen, just below your navel, you sighed unexpectedly, and he could feel your heat.

“I’ll beg for it.” The reverberations of his rough voice tickled your lower stomach. He dragged his lips progressively lower, to where the hairs upon your mound began. A trail of kisses began to form between each mumbled plea. 

“I’ll beg to taste you…” Kiss. “Lick you…” Kiss. “I’m beggin’…” Kiss. “Let me taste how perfect my sweet princess is.”

Though you were still puzzled by his desire to kiss you there, you decided to oblige, especially as the strange tickly feeling became more and more intense with each kiss he bestowed upon your mound. Somehow, his begging even excited you. 

“Yes,” you sighed. Blindly, you reached for him, your hands tangling in his chestnut colored hair, strands messy and wild. The ends of those locks tickled your skin as they hung around his face, dragging with each movement of his mouth downwards. “You may taste me… Though I do not understand why you want to, sir.” You laughed as you looked down at him, kissing the soft little hairs you always found to be unsightly, but it was not in vogue to shave, of course. At least, not for a lady of your status. He seemed to like it, though. “You are rather strange,” you teased. “Do you think I will taste nice?”

“Know you will,” he said, and you watched as he wetted his fingers with his tongue, then circled them over your now puffy lips. 

With a little gasp, you giggled girlishly at his touch. It was all so strange to you, but it felt nice. You’d had no idea this part of you was so sensitive, as you’d never bothered to touch it besides your daily baths. Even then, you hardly touched yourself only to clean, and when you felt an unfamiliar tingle as you’d slide your wet hand between those little folds of sensitive skin, you’d quickly pull away. All you knew of that part of you was that it was for your future husband, and you’d never cared much for trying to find one, especially since the world was the way it was. 

Now, you could only dream of a husband like him, the knight who lowered himself once more, slotting his head between your bare thighs. His hands holding them, he coerced your legs to spread wider, allowing that crevice to widen and open the small fleshy hole. He could already tell you’d never even touched yourself, your entrance half-obstructed by a small stretch of skin-colored tissue—your maidenhead.

He’d not touch that for now, instead only focused on slowly licking a stripe up your open slit, marking his first taste of you. 

There was a strong reverberation that jolted through you, causing your legs to flinch closed, Daryl’s head now sandwiched between the fat of your thighs. “Oh!” you cried out, back involuntarily arched against the cushion and hands tangled further in his hair until your fingernails clawed at his scalp. There was a muffled growl between your legs in response. At first, you assumed you’d hurt him. “Oh, I—I am sorry, my love…” you sputtered, almost with a nervous laugh at your sensitivity, and massaging his scalp more gently now. “Did I hurt you?”

On the contrary, your scratching and pulling and squeezing only excited him. He did not answer your question, only pressing his face harder against you, smothering his nose and mouth between your folds, wettened by his saliva. If he suffocated between your legs, he’d die happy, as the taste was intoxicating, sweeter than the finest honey wine he’d ever had, and the feeling a more lovely warmth than the hearth that illuminated the dim cottage with that dreamy glow. 

With a renewed lust, he moved his head wildly, licking up and down and swirling in tight circles round the bundle of nerves above the entrance. It seemed to elicit the most beautiful moans and gasps and sighs from your pretty mouth, of which he often took a glimpse when he raised his eyes to admire your innocent beauty. 

And though he could lick you like this for hours on end, he’d grown desperate to taste you deeper, just a little. So he parted your legs with a jolt. “Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice more hoarse and throaty and deep than before. His desire was becoming more urgent, more primitive as the very last of his decency was chiseled away by his need. “I want more of this pretty cunt.”

You nearly gasped at the vulgar word, having only heard it once or twice in your presence—both times from a slightly inebriated Lady Margaret, who used it to pejoratively refer to Lady Caroline behind her back, but now you knew where it came from. It sounded devilishly dulcet on his low, panting voice. 

Legs spread further apart, he caught another glimpse of that hole, coated in a sparkling sheen that was damp to the touch. The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he spoke. “You’re gettin’ wet,” he said, much to your confusion. “D’ya like what I’m doin’ to you, princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. His fingertip traced the rim of your wet entrance. 

Before he dove down once more, he couldn’t help but just admire the beauty of your womanhood with his eyes. He felt a sudden wave of unworthiness well up in him. After all, this sight was never for him. It was forbidden, and yet, you’d decided he was worthy to have you. 

You, his lady, his mistress, his princess, his queen. In every sense of the word, you ruled him, and he had no choice but to bask in the glory of your trembling body, every inch perfect and unique and, soon, his. 

He’d make you his, but first he had to make him yours. 

“Oh!” His lips spread open wide to envelope the hole, where his tongue flattened out to lick at the source of your arousal. All you could feel was his long tongue poking inside you, wiggling to adjust to how small the entrance was. 

Meanwhile, the tip of his soft button nose pressed up against your most sensitive spot, where a fresh tingle surged through you. To get a better angle, he slid both hands underneath your bare rump, pulling your body closer and angling your core upwards as your legs found their home upon his shoulders, just the perfect width to accommodate your thighs.

“That’s it,” he spoke against your inner thigh, where he left a series of frantic, desperate little kisses. They weren’t just lustful, but affectionate, as though he was bestowing these kisses to reward you for your obedience. “Sweet royal cunt.”

That word again made you flinch, or perhaps it was the suction of his lips around that bundle of nerves that pleased you so.

“Y-you’re so vulgar,” you sighed with a gentle laugh rolling under your voice. “Where… is my gallant knight?” 

“Between your pretty legs, milady.”

His tongue wiggled in spastic movements between his lips, reddening and engorging the sensitive spot as a strange tightening feeling formed in your lower belly. Unbeknownst to you, the walls of your passage squeezed involuntarily around the empty space inside you. In this moment, you never felt more empty, in fact. All you wanted, the longer his mouth devoured you, was to somehow feel whole. 

“Please!” you cried out, voice strained and high-pitched with a desperate plea for him to satisfy you, somehow. You did not know how, but you needed it, whatever it was. “Oh, I…”

The knight knew what you needed, and he needed it, too, but you were so close to ultimate pleasure. The wetter you became, the more of his saliva that soaked into your crevices and your increasingly gaping entrance, the more your body would accept his. That much he knew.

But the feeling was so powerful, so overwhelming. Each burst of pleasure erupted within you, like a volcano that had lain dormant for a millenia or two, and only now was that red hot magma spewing forth, until one final eruption would leave you satisfied. It terrified you. Was this normal? Surely a woman should not feel such euphoria. All you’d known of your womb was the pain and shame of that period in which blood would flow from you. You’d been told it was divine punishment for women. Eve’s betrayal, the fall of Eden… Why should you pay for that? Now, there was only pleasure, no pain. 

The pleasure, though, was so intense, so frightful, that you panicked, your thighs clenching tight round his head once more as your back arched in agonizing bliss, his tongue now thrusting into you again. “Oh!” you cried out. “I… Wh-what… Daryl, I’m frightened!”

His eyes flashed up to look at you. “What is it?” he asked. He tore himself away from you, while his hand reached up to cradle your trembling cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I…” Gasping for air, you writhed and wriggled underneath him, squeezing your thighs together as if to provide some relief. “I do not know… I feel so strange.”

Tears trickled down your cheek, and the knight’s brows furrowed in concern. He brushed a few away with his fingers. “Why’re ya cryin’, girl?”

And you knew now why, as your hips gyrated and bucked up towards him, as if demanding for him to return to you. The sensation was just so strong, but so lovely. “Please,” you whimpered. “Do not stop.”

Now he knew, too. A laugh forced his mouth into a wide grin. “Oh, I see,” he said, hands moving achingly slowly back down to your thighs. He spread them apart again, a feeling which made your breath hitch for a moment. “Feels good, doesn’t it? My tongue…”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, more.”

And so he gave you more, his mouth quickly returning to that puffy, reddened flesh between your thighs, eliciting from you a visceral moan as your head fell back against the cushion. “Ah!” you cried out.

After the brief period in which he’d separated from you, you now felt the sensation returning, this time even more intense. Sounds of wet flesh being licked and sucked and kissed surrounded you, accompanied by soft, muffled groans from your knight. 

How he’d wanted this for so long, to have your taste and to feel your restless, writhing body involuntarily grinding against his tongue. For a moment, he pulled your outer lips further apart, allowing more direct exposure to the now throbbing, swollen protrusion that gave you so much pleasure. He sucked at that flesh again, this time bringing his finger to the hole that begged to be filled. 

“Oh, oh!” His finger breached the entrance, just a few centimeters, but enough to stretch you more than you’d been stretched open ever before. “My god!”

“Come,” his voice murmured between furious sucking. “Come, my princess. I want you to come.”

“C-come… Where?”

“On my face,” he laughed. 

“Wh-what… are you… talking about?”

The vibration of his laughter tickled your flesh. “You’re too innocent,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean.”

He knew you must be close, so it did not take much more effort to get you to the brink of orgasm. All he needed to do was curl his finger upwards inside you as he swirled his tongue with more pressure, practically digging a brand new hole with the tip of his tongue. 

And, with your hands shooting out to claw at his shoulders, the tingling and tightening and tickling finally reached its peak as the feeling of the final, strongest eruption came forth, exploding from the pit of your abdomen and spreading throughout every cell in your hot, squirming body. 

Moans of his name were falling softly, repeatedly from your lips, where bite marks had embedded themselves after several minutes of your teeth digging into the skin. He’d never heard his name being spoken so much, so sweetly and with so much bliss. After all, it was the name of the person who’d given you the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced. 

You were left jolting, your body gently rocking up against his face, which was still buried between your lips as his tongue gathered every drop of the arousal that slowly dripped from you. His own arousal caught up with him, too, a noticeable feeling of a strain, and a tightening in his chausses. 

Panting and moaning under your labored breaths, you felt the pleasure begin to die down as his lips praised you with small kisses all over the outside of your pulsing entrance. Deviously, he stuck his tongue out to deliver short, sweet licks to your still throbbing bundle of nerves. 

A soft, delirious giggle erupted from your lips as your fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. All you could see was his head bobbing between your legs, and all you could hear was the crackle of the hearthfire and the sounds of his pursed lips kissing your wet folds. Feeling his finger curling at the shallow part of you, you squeezed on purpose, much to his amusement. 

“I feel ya,” he mumbled. “You feel so good.”

“Daryl.” Your hands grasped both sides of his head with some pressure, as if to pull him up. “Come here.”

He let you guide his head until his lips met yours and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, weighing him down. His body weight covered you completely, a sensation which excited him even more. 

On your lips, you tasted yourself, his tongue and lips now coated with your arousal. “What did you do to me?” you asked between his kiss. “Your tongue is magical… Some kind of wicked sorcery.”

His laughter tickled your cheek as he kissed you there. “I jus’ made ya come,” he said simply. “S’why you’re so wet down there now. Got you all ready.” His hands raised up to tug on the collar of your dress, as if trying to yank it off you.

“Ready for what?” you laughed, though you had a few ideas of what he could be referring to, as innocent as you were, but you hadn’t heard the word he’d said next before. 

“For my cock.”

In genuine confusion, you furrowed your brow. “You have a rooster?”

“Yeah.” The mischievous, lop-sided smirk on his face as his finger traced your jawline told you he was messing with you. “I’ve got a big, red rooster.”

“Oh?” you said, playing along with him despite your ignorance. “Well, won’t you introduce me to your rooster?”

By now, you knew what he meant.

When he dragged your hand down to his clothed erection, a deep blush bloomed upon your cheeks. “Oh,” you sighed. “Hello, rooster.”

To say you hadn’t thought of it before would be a lie. Of course you had. While you did not know much about sex, or that part of the male anatomy, you knew that part of a man was meant for that complimentary part of a woman. You knew that was the part of him that would put a child in your womb, though you knew not the exact details of the whole ordeal. 

Interrupting your thoughts of his “rooster,” you were suddenly lifted from the ground and tangled in his arms, with your feet dangling off the ground as he dragged you towards the hay-stuffed mattress you’d rested upon a few times before. You exclaimed a laughing, “Daryl!” before being laid gently, yet almost impatiently, upon the bed. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows to see him at the foot of the bed, lifting his shirt above his head as he panted. 

Eyes wide, you felt your heart thump in your chest when his broad frame was bare before you, his chest just as bulky and strong and wide as you’d imagined. Your eyes were drawn to the charming smattering of little hairs, and the small pink nipples that hardened against the air. 

You couldn’t help but follow the trail of those same hairs that began at his navel and led down to the waistband of his pants, which he began to untie frantically. Meanwhile, your mouth fell agape at the shape of his… cock, you supposed it was called—so big it looked like it could rip through the cotton of his chausses at any second. 

Involuntarily, your thighs rubbed themselves together, where you could now feel your own wetness seeping from you. Seeing the size of his cock, now you knew why you’d need to be wet.

Just like that, he was naked, his cock springing up as soon as he pulled his pants down enough. It nearly startled you, almost eliciting a gasp. Never had you seen something so… odd. You couldn’t even wrap your head around the testicles just yet. 

But he left you hardly any time to think about the new body parts you were faced with. Instead, he laid himself down on his side next to you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. The motion soothed you, though his dark, lusty stare made you shiver.

“Sit up for me,” he said. You did as he told you, as an unspoken dynamic had appeared: he would lead you, as you were much too inexperienced to know your way around this territory.

And yet, he was not forceful, nor domineering. Indeed, he knew you were still his princess, his ruler. He knew that you held the utmost power over him, and that whatever you’d say, he would have to do it. There was no mistake of who was ultimately in charge, whose body he was compelled to worship and please. Still, he’d lead you physically. 

Now sitting up, he scooted back to unlace the back of your gown, each silk knot coming undone with a beautiful cascade of fabric, until your back was nude, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine.

He pulled on your sleeves gently, but with a noticeable waning of his patience. “Lay back now,” he said. Like a mindless servant, you obeyed him. 

Your surcoat was loose enough to pull off you now, so he did, letting the expensive garment sink to the floor. Now, your kirtle, which he pulled over your head, manipulating your body like a rag doll. With each movement he made, another sweaty, glistening muscle flexed under that tan, workworn skin, stretching across which were many faded scars from battles and jousts and God only knew what else. 

Lastly, your chemise kept him from your supple nude body, so he pulled it off with a slight growl under his breath. Now, you laid back fully, your completely divested skin meeting the thick, buttery soft pelt of the fur blanket beneath you. 

Your body was a sight to behold, so marvelous that he stood up again, stepping back to let his eyes roam all over you. 

It was enough to bring him to knees, literally. He sunk to the floor, where he attached his lips to your ankle, which had caused him some trouble in the past. The many times he’d caught sight of your ankle, he felt perverted, sinful. Then your calf, soft and smooth against his lips. He covered as much skin as he could in his kisses, then he reached your knee, and your thighs, where he spread apart your legs to leave more kisses at your womanhood.

“You’re insatiable,” you laughed, watching as his lips trailed through the hairs on your mound. “You cannot kiss every part of my body, sir.”

“I can try.”

His tongue circled around your navel, then he continued his kisses to the slope of your left breast, where he quickly latched to your nipple, causing you to flinch at the new feeling. 

His other hand found your other breast, squeezing it just enough to make you gasp a little. After all, with his lips and hands worshiping your entire body, you weren’t sure how else to react. 

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled against the pillowy surface of your breast. “I’d die for you.”

Even the thought made you shiver and cling to his flexing shoulder blades. “N-no, my love… Do not say such a thing. My… my heart c-could not bear to even think of it.”

“I’d kill for you,” he said now. “I’ll do anythin’ you ask of me… I belong to you.”

As you processed his pledge, you hadn’t even noticed two of his fingers digging into your entrance, spreading you open, little by little. His sweet, raspy voice soothed the pain. 

Now, his lips trailed to your collarbones, where he left dozens of kisses and licks across your skin. 

“I live to serve you,” he whispered. You gasped, not at his words, but at his two thick fingers going deeper, a sound of flesh upon wet flesh. “Only you… My sweet princess.”

“Oh, my sweet knight… Ah…”

A slight tearing feeling at your entrance made you wince in pain, but the knight paused for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek to get your attention. 

“Am I hurtin’ ya?”

“No, no.” If he stopped, you might die of emptiness. The stretching hurt, but you could not go much longer without him filling the emptiness within you. Once he started, you wouldn’t be able to be without him. 

“Need to stretch your cunt a little,” he said. “My cock’s gonna hurt ya more if I don’t.”

Judging by the size, you believed him. Your eyes were transfixed on the thing as you wondered how in the world he’d get it in your tight hole, but you trusted him to take care of you. 

And you wanted it. You couldn’t explain it, but your need for that big length of flesh, with engorged veins and a droplet or two of clear liquid beading at its reddened tip, was greater than any pain you might’ve felt. 

“I want it, sir,” you practically purred. “Your…”

He smiled against the cheek he was busy kissing. “My rooster?”

“Your cock.” 

He tore his lips away to give you a wide-eyed stare as he tried to fake a serious look of shock, but the upturned corner of his snickering lips betrayed him. 

“Your highness,” he scolded in jest. “Where’d ya learn such a dirty word?” His fingers inched deeper, so deep that your back arched as you laughed a visceral moan. 

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Your hand delivered a very weak slap to his chest.

Pulling his fingers out, he laughed as his hands gripped both of your wrists. His face turned serious, yet still soft. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes, but… I mustn’t have your child now.”

You weren’t totally unaware of the true purpose of sex. In fact, it had been drilled into your head by archbishop Gabriel, whose responsibility seemed to be deterring you and all other maidens at court from engaging in premarital sex that was not for the express purpose of procreation, as such an act would brand one “a whore in the eyes of God.” Conveniently, the archbishop’s sermon had overlooked any consequences for men.

“You won’t,” he assured you. Indeed, he had intimate knowledge of one of the world’s most time-honored methods of contraception: coitus interruptus. “I’ll be careful.”

Removing his fingers from you, he rubbed his palm up and down your slit, spreading the wetness of your arousal all over you. He leaned back for a moment, looking down to spread apart your lips and see your hole, which opened quite a bit wider now for him. Redness pooled around the opening, but you couldn’t notice the dull pain, not when his eyes held yours so intently. “Think you’re ready,” he said. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Don’t stop. “All right, my love.”

The hard, spongy surface of his tip grazed over your clit, and slid with his body as he rolled forward over you. “You ready?”

At this point, the suspense was killing you. Each drag of his length through your sodden flesh was agonizing. Your body grew restless, arching your back up to meet his chest and pull him down. “Yes,” you sighed, then ghosted your lips over his. “Make me yours now. I want to be yours.”

He eased himself in as your mouth latched to his, your whimpers of combined pain and pleasure melting into his kiss. The tip was inside you now, just beginning to stretch you further to meet the wide girth of his thick cock. The slow, tearing feeling was enough to make you bite down on his tongue, nearly drawing blood. He only growled into your mouth, digging his cock deeper.

Your suffocating tightness tested his willpower, his ability to keep himself from moving so fast that he’d lose control of his cock, but it felt so good, so warm and snug. As he sank further into you, he tore his lips free to whisper against your ear, “How ya feel?”

With a deep swallow, you held back your tears. “Fine,” you said. “Just… it hurts a little. Does it fit?”

He looked between your bodies, where half his length was inside you, the other half twitching with bulging veins and redness only darkening. He stayed still, brushing back your tears as you sniffled. “Yeah, it’ll fit. You just need stretched, s’all.”

He pushed himself in a little further as his lips caught another tear. Clawing at his back, you let out a sharp gasp. “Oh! Daryl! It’s too big, you’re too big… I can’t…”

His hand reached down to tickle his fingers against your clit, attempting to ease your pain by giving you more pleasure. He knew his cock would hurt you before it felt good. “Sh… sh… D’ya want me to stop, princess?”

“No, no!” you cried out, nearly startling him. He felt your arms tighten round his back, as if to keep him exactly where he was. “Please don’t stop. I—I…” Tears trickled down more now, like a torrential rain over your cheek. 

He stopped again, this time pulling himself out a little to prop himself up and look at you with the utmost earnestness. “Why are ya cryin’ now? I don’t wanna make you cry. Am I hurtin’ you too much?”

In truth, the physical pain of being stretched by him was not strong enough to elicit these tears. What made you cry, in fact, was the simple truth that tonight, you’d give yourself to your true love, but in a matter of days, Sir Negan would take you away from him, and you might never see him, or your father, or anyone else you loved, ever again. 

To think you may never be here, like this, with him again… It broke your heart, though every cell in your body was demanding for another burst of euphoria. It was all too much emotion, too much stimulation. And yet, you’d never want him to stop. You’d like to be this way forever, if you could. If only you could.

“It’s just… Promise me…”

Furrowed brows contorted his face. He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek. “Promise ya what?” He wasn’t sure of the point of asking, as he knew that he would promise you, his lady, anything anyway. A knight’s ultimate test of chivalry, afterall, was his undying, unyielding, uncompromising devotion to his lady. 

“Promise you won’t forget me.” When Negan takes me, you wanted to say, but you hesitated to even mention him at this moment, when the only man who really mattered to you was looking at you with his own tears beginning to well in his cunning blue eyes.

“I could never, ever forget you, milady.”

And he knew now what you meant. He knew the fear in your eyes, the same fear from the other night. He could feel this fear inside him, too. The fear of never seeing you again, of you being trapped in a place you could not escape from, not unlike how you’d been trapped in your own castle. Yet, this would be so much worse, for you’d be chained to that wretched, evil man, who would do God knows what to you. 

But those thoughts were poisonous. “Don’t think about that now… Just feel me.” So he came into you again, just as far as he’d gotten before. “That’s it… Can you take more?”

That was all you wanted, actually. More. All you needed was him, filling you as deep as possible, taking you over and marking you as his. You’d never be Negan’s now, and that gave you a sense of power, a relief in knowing that there was at least one thing Negan could never take from you—your chastity. 

“More, Daryl. Please.”

By now, he was almost all the way inside you, but he could go no further, for his own fear of hurting you too much. He pulled out a bit then, to which you grasped at his shoulders and pulled him back against you. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he laughed. “I’m just movin’. Calm down, you’re all rigid. Ease up.” Taking his words to heart, you let out a deep breath and relaxed your muscles, allowing you to settle more comfortably into the plush fur underneath you. Slowly, he pushed himself back in, your body welcoming him in with the hug of your slick tightness. “There ya go… Look, your cunt’s already gettin’ used to me. You’re takin’ it good.”

So good, in fact, that you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling—the warmth, the hardness, the fullness… The feeling of his cock sliding back and forth, but never completely leaving you. The sensation was beautiful, far more intimate than anything you’d ever imagined. When he lowered himself down again, his chest laid snug against yours, the feeling of his nipples rubbing yours hard and slow the more he thrusted. As if on their own accord, your legs loosened to lift and wrap around his lower back, taking him in just a little further. There was pain again, but not enough to hurt you. It only felt good.

He had to be careful not to move too fast, though the involuntary squeezing of your walls drew him closer to his breaking point. He could feel both your arousal and his, surrounding him inside you. But he had to make you come again, he thought. He needed to know that his cock had pleased his princess just as much as his tongue. 

Your soft, whimpering moans made it clear that he was, indeed, pleasing you, your tearing pain having given way to that tingling feeling again, making your writhe and shiver underneath him.

“Daryl,” you panted. Spurred on by your pulsing body, his movements became faster, more sloppy, more passionate. Now you could really feel his size, his length digging into a particular spot that made you roll your head back against his pillow, your lips trembling and gasping for air as you spoke. “Oh, it feels so… Yes, my love, my knight… You’re so big.”

“Princess… I feel your cunt squeezing me.”

“Oh, I—I am s-sorry.”

He huffed a laugh against your cheek. “Feels good,” he said. “Keep squeezin’ me.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your cheek as his hips thrusted non-stop, now molding you to fit his cock perfectly, forever. Well, for however long you had left together. 

“God, you’re soakin’ me,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of wet skin on skin. 

Your well-trained manners urged you to apologize again, but the sensation of his cock hitting into you was enough to render you speechless, except for the breathless sighs and sultry moans escaping your lips as you clawed at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his scarred flesh to nearly break open new wounds. 

He continued on for a while now, though you could not tell how long he’d been thrusting, you only knew you were drowned by his mouth, his lips finding every part of your skin that he could reach in this position and leaving sloppy trails of open-mouthed kisses. That tightening and tingling within you strengthened with each movement he made, each thrust reminding you of how deep inside you he was, and how strong he was, his body weight driving the force of each hard, deep stroke. 

Only when your moans had faded into heaving breaths and your body had loosened into jelly did he speak to you again, though not stopping his thrusts, as he couldn’t bring himself to even think about stopping now. 

“Hey, sweetheart? You all right?”

You were hardly responsive, only opening half-lidded eyes to gape at his reddened, sweat-dripping face. His chestnut hair hung wildly, tickling your cheeks, though all you could feel was the pounding, the swelling of his cock inside you, the growing sensation of that volcano about to erupt again. 

“H-hey.” You felt his hand cup your cheek as he said your name, his own voice shaky and stuttering as he began to lose his ability to keep himself in control. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, only now, they were those same tears of overwhelming, astounding satisfaction. 

Stimulated to the point of near-catatonia, you were released by a sudden wave of vibrations that surged through you like electricity, bringing you back to life. Your legs clenched tight around his waist as your head shot back, exposing your strained neck. His lips did not spare you in your moaning, crying state. They attacked your neck as you pulsed all around his cock and grinded up against his pelvis by instinct. He held his hips still now, though, letting you ride the multiple waves of your intense orgasm until you shook like a leaf in a cool autumn wind beneath his strong, stabilizing body which your hands clung to desperately.

“Oh, Jesus!” was all you muster. You’d never said the Lord’s name in vain as many times as you had that night. Granted, you had never said the Lord’s name in vain before. “Christ!” Surely, you would be going to Hell. 

“Shit,” the knight muttered into the crook of your neck. “I—I’m…”

Ears pounding with the sound of your heart, you could not process a word he said. You could only allow your glassy eyes to roll back as your lips formed a delirious, open-mouthed smile. “Oh, Daryl.” 

He propped himself up on his bulky arms, dripping with sweat and bulging with flexed, aching muscles. As if to soothe them, you ran your hands up towards his biceps, holding onto them for dear life as he began thrusting again, almost completely inside of you. 

All you could do now was smile up at him, murmuring his name, interspersed with declarations of your love and breathy moans that tortured him the closer he came to releasing himself. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Yes, yours. Forever.”

“Mine.”

With an almost helpless groan, he pulled himself completely from you, sinking down on his arms to press against you, but with his cock angled to release on your heavy stomach. Though you missed the feeling of him inside you, you moaned at the feeling of warmth near your navel, where he spilled himself onto you. 

Curiosity overcame you as you looked between your bodies, watching his strange… attachment release a silky, cloudy white liquid in spurts. For a moment, your eyes widened in slight fear. Truly, you had absolutely no idea what was happening. For all you knew, he’d suddenly contracted some strange disease that caused his cock to leak a new humor.

“Wh-what is… Daryl, are you all right?”

Once again, he laughed at your innocence. “I’m just fine… Better than fine,” he said, sinking down into a deep kiss. He only parted from them for a moment to say, “That’s s’posed to happen. Did they not teach you anythin’ about sex?”

“Th-they said…” You laughed at your lack of breath. “They said my husband would show me.”

He sighed as he lifted himself off you, then rolled over onto his side. With a huff, he yanked the fur-lined blanket from underneath you, then draped it over himself and you, much to your relief, as it was cold without his naked body on top of yours. 

“Your father,” he began to say, wrapping an arm around your rather limp, flimsy body to pull you close, “he wanted ya to marry my lord, didn’t he?”

A puzzled look contorted your face. “How did you know?”

“He tells me everythin’.” The touch of his calloused fingers tickled your hairline as he brushed back your bangs. “Told me the king brought us here because he thought Richard would make a good husband for you… Why didn’t you want him?”

Duke Richard hadn’t crossed your mind much since that night he first arrived, though you never thought too much about why exactly he did not attract you as much as Sir Daryl did. Now, it was quite clear. 

“Because he isn’t you, my love.” A laugh escaped your lips as you settled your hand upon his chest, twisting your fingers between the hairs that intrigued you so. “The duke is… He is a good man, but you are better. That is all.”

A rosy blush blossomed on his cheeks as his mouth curled with a lopsided smile. You admired the lines in his face, the crows feet and tired bags around his adoring eyes. “He would’ve made a good husband for you.”

“Mm, perhaps.” Your pointer finger traced lines over his sharp collarbone. “Lady Michonne is rather fond of him, though. I think they make a lovely couple. Besides, my heart does not belong to him. It belongs to you.”

Shaking his head, he offered you a somber smile. “You know you can’t marry me, even if Negan didn’t want you. I’d be killed.”

“My father would not kill you.”

“You don’t know that for sure. If he… if he knew that I took you outside the walls, let alone that we—”

“We could go somewhere, someday.”

Your name fell on his lips, but you interrupted him again. “Negan will take me, I know I cannot escape that, but someday, when Alexandria is strong enough, you can find me, and we’ll go away, somewhere you’ve been on your travels. My father would understand. We could be together, we could marry. Someday.”

But you knew it was a pipe dream. You knew that, if it could ever happen, it would happen so long from now, and you could not leave your father without him knowing you were all right. It seemed as though there was nothing to stop the world from caving in. For someone who had so much power by birth, you felt so powerless, the most powerless you’d ever felt in your whole life. That was saying something, as you never truly felt in control of your own destiny. You never thought it could get worse, until now.

“You know I won’t let him take you,” he said. “Maybe we can be together like that someday, but right now, all I care about is you, not me and you.”

“But… I care about you.”

And for the first time in his life, he believed those words.

“I know you do.” Upon your forehead, he placed a chaste kiss. “Ya know, once a knight gives his heart to a lady, he can never give it to anyone else, and he’s bound to her forever.”

Of course you knew that. There wasn’t much about knights you didn’t know. If only you had as much knowledge of human sexuality as you did of knighthood, but alas. 

“Does that mean you will marry me one day?”

His eyes narrowed in playful suspicion as he pretended to think it over, mumbling a pensive, “Hm…”

“Sir Daryl,” you teased, “if you do not agree to marry me, I will send you to the stocks.” 

“Your highness,” he said, his arms pulling you in closer to his chest, “I promise myself to you.”

“And I, you… My sweet, brave knight.”

That evening, you did not return to the castle until the sun began to rise again. Sleeping on a straw-stuffed bed was quite the adjustment from your feather-stuffed one, but he did not let go of you, not even in his sleep, and that made all the difference to you.

Despite the uncertainty that loomed in the air all around you, the fear that settled in your heart from the moment you realized you might never see Daryl again, you had a strange, persistent sense that, someday, every night could be like this one.

Someday, you repeated in your head, lulling yourself to sleep in his arms. 

But that was the future, and this was now. Now, you knew only one thing to be perfectly, virtuously true: you were his, just as he was yours.

Through life, and after death.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[sulumuns-dootah]

would u ever do nsfw alphabet for the nobles? i’d love to see one for juno, if u have the time! :3

A/N: Hi! I'm definitely gonna do nobles! I just wanna get the kings out of my way first. Luckily though, I had a day off work, so here :) Hope you like it ^^

NSFW Alphabet - Juno P.

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

   ༺☆༻

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Juno's definitely a giver, so he'll make sure you're okay and do his best. You've never had a better aftercare. He'll even share his Ferere with you.

   ༺☆༻

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Absolute fan of your hands. Just thinking about all the things you could do with them is enough to make his dick twitch.

   ༺☆༻

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When it comes to his dick cum, I'd say he's pretty normal. Now when it comes to his horn cum, his horns release way much than their size should allow them. It does get annoying though, when he doesn't clean it up before it dries and becomes impossible to get out of his hair.

   ༺☆༻

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to have a threesome with you and Minhyeok. He's the no.1 shipper of the two of you afterall, and seeing his ship finally become true is his ultimate goal.

   ༺☆༻

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

As Juno, barely anything - April fools' day was his first time. As Ppyong though? Oh boy. He is the most attractive Red lump and has the experience to go with it. Sadly it's only with other demons his size/shape and not really applicable to human shaped partners.

   ༺☆༻

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything his partner wants. As long as they both experience pleasure, he's down.

   ༺☆༻

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

I can imagine him on the funny side, but not because he intends to. Maybe he just says something something hilariously wrong like that time he wanted to be our dildo.

   ༺☆༻

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

I don't think any of the demons in hell are hairy unless they deliberately want to be themselves. So no hair on this lil guy either.

   ༺☆༻

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If he's trying to pursue a relationship with you, then he'd definitely allow himself to be more romantic. Otherwise he'd be just casual and not really as emotionally involved.

   ༺☆༻

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In his lump body, I don't really see him having fun with himself, but in his human body? Anytime he's not around someone is body exploration time. There's so much things he's finding out about human anatomy and he can't wait to share them with you.

   ༺☆༻

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

So his bio/information post says touching and since he's from Gehenna he obviously has to also be into pain. From my personal headcanons, I like to think that he's also into voyeurism and praising. I'll talk about this more in Motivation, but he's a pleasure switch and whatever you're into, he will indulge you. Even if that means getting fucked by someone else. Just make sure to let him know how happy you are and how good he made you feel.

   ༺☆༻

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

There's no shame in this bad boy.(I mean, think of some of the things he's said to Minhyeok during the main campaign) He'll take you anywhere. If you're uncomfortable however, feel free to let him know and he'll take you somewhere more private or summon a room for the two of you.

   ༺☆༻

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Since I already mentioned this, let's go over it: He's clearly into bringing pleasure to his partner no matter what it takes. Doesn't matter to him if you think of someone else or just use him to get off. He'll deliver and make you wish for another chance so you can actually appreciate that it's him you're being with.

   ༺☆༻

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Go past your limits. This goes hand in hand with him bringing pleasure. If you're not happy, he's not happy.

   ༺☆༻

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Maybe the only thing he will be selfish in, but still not to the point where you're struggling for air on his dick. In giving he's generous though, and will make you see stars just from making out with your pussy.

   ༺☆༻

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

The most comfortable for him is going fast and rough. He's enjoying his newfound strength and enjoys drawing out all those pretty sounds and facial expressions from you.

   ༺☆༻

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really a fan. Juno wants to savour every moment with his partner. Unless you're getting attacked, there's no reason to rush.

   ༺☆༻

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Sure, if you're up for experimentation, he's down too, but he would never deliberately put you in harms way.

   ༺☆༻

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh, he can go a lot. And he will, even if he has to make you. His new strength is so exciting he wants to see how far he himself can go. Usually, he does hit your hard limit though and will grumble a bit, but ultimately stop.

   ༺☆༻

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Being touchy feely like Juno, one doesn't really need toys. Imagination and your own hands are simply enough.

   ༺☆༻

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all. Exactly the opposite, actually. If he's giving, he's going all out and overstimulate his partner.

   ༺☆༻

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If you have this man's card, you know this already, but our boy Juno has the prettiest moans in this game. His little gasps are super adorable too. <3

   ༺☆༻

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Something a little bit more sad: While he's in his lump state, he kinda wishes demons with human body would also make advances on him, but he knows that it's kinda impossible given his form. Some days he really misses burying his fat cock into someone.

   ༺☆༻

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like I hinted above, his cock is fat, but hey, we already know that thx to @ shyanimeboy on twitter (bless their soul for being a lifesaver for us f2p players!) Also, give this man max of few days in Abyssos and he's coming home with at least one dick piercing.

   ༺☆༻

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, generally, but if he has a partner, he'd match them so he can be ready for them anytime.

   ༺☆༻

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Who needs sleep? Definitely not him, even though he just fucked out your soul. Being a winged creature in his lump state translates well in terms of pacing his strength and never using too much of it and tiring himself.

[depravitymoon]

I love the thought of yandere bruno and yandere melone setting aside their differences and unite because of their huge breeding kink. Can you write something around something like that? Thanks, sorry if this is confusing

Context: Everyone Lives AU. Through the power of GER’s BS, Bruno got revived and so did La Squadra. La Squadra got paid a better income and Bruno became Giorno’s Sottocapo (2nd in command). 

I dont see them cooperating over the same darling, because I think there would be too much bad blood between them.  While they wouldn’t share a darling, their darlings would be similar in that they’re motherly. Bruno and Melone would totally help each other out so their future babies have childhood friends. After all, friends AND family are so important for a child’s development…..but not a willing mother, apparently!

Melone would be able to stalk their darlings when Bruno is too busy being Sottocapo. Meanwhile, Bruno actually has the manpower to kidnap the darlings and/or blackmail them. Bruno will tell Melone to keep the creepiness down.

Yan!Melone x Reader:

Bruno has a talk with Melone about his obsession. Bruno didn’t like it. He already had to have your brother assassinated. However, you were innocent of all his wrongdoings. You were already grieving over the loss, even if it was good riddance, you didn’t deserve to be more involved with mafia things.

Yan!Bruno x Reader:

Unfortunately, Bruno is a hypocrite. When he sees you caring for the local kids, especially those from broken homes, you had captured his heart right there. It would scare him when you would bravely go into dangerous neighborhoods for these kids. While it is noble, you’re gonna get yourself hurt and it causes him anxiety.

Melone saw this as an opportunity. Bruno didn’t want you hurt, but as Sottocapo he’s busy and can’t always stalk like you he wants to…. But Melone can. Besides, who better to protect you from danger than a hitman ready to kill at a moment’s notice. There’s plenty of vile women in that neighborhood you frequent he can use for baby face.

Darlings unite!:

Perhaps the two darlings become friends or were friends, finds out Melone is stalking them and killing people, so they somehow kick his ass. In comes Bruno to the rescue. Bruno's impressed, despite how wicked the people were, his darling still wept for the lost of their lives. So pure, sweet, naive, and foolish. This is why darling needs to be in Bruno's care. Melone’s just very impressed. Humiliated but impressed. You two outsmarted him. Such smart darlings would make wonderful mothers. He’s analyzed you two quite alot since his deal with Bruno. Even if you two will never forgive him and Bruno, you would NEVER take it out on sweet innocent bambini. Bruno attempts to comfort the both of you by explaining that he and Melone have the money and resources to raise a family, which wasn’t comforting at all. You two knew that it meant they have the power to keep you in place and there would be nothing you can do. Afterall, Passione basically controls Italy in the shadows. What chance do either of you have against them, stand or no stand?