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smallpeniscollective · 1 year ago

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Raphael fuckers, come get y'all juice!!

another smutty Raphael/Haarlep blurb for a concept I CANNOT get out of my HEAD

ladies, gentlemen, and anyone else who showed up to the potluck, here’s some good old fashioned dp with Raphael and Haarlep

content: pov/2nd person, she/her pronouns, afab body parts, pet names, devil sex, fingering with claws (yeOWCH), orgasm delay/denial, p-in-v, p-in-a, double penetration, master/pet dynamic, and whatever else comes with sploinking the devil and his incubus

trigger warning for pain during sex and also for rough sex as punishment for stealing from the house of hope

(this kinda ended up Way longer than a blurb so please enjoy just some porn with barely any plot)

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He could have whisked your clothes away in an instant with one of his usual theatrical snaps, but you could sense this was a power play, to make you feel your submission to him deep under your skin. Ravenous, glowing eyes watched as you undressed, making you feel suddenly shy and yearning to hide from his penetrating gaze.

“Oh, don’t be timid now, little mouse. You lost that right the second you entered my home without permission.”

While your terrifyingly hopeless situation had your blood running cold, you couldn’t deny that feeling the low rumble of his voice in your naked chest sent a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You continued to undress with averted eyes and shaky hands. When you dropped the last of your clothing onto a small pile on the floor, you managed to look up at him with anxiously rounded eyes.

“On the bed,” he ordered. His voice sounded cruel and cold, contradicting how intimate this felt to you.

You felt the sensation of shame drop your heart in your chest, unable to stop the panicked wondering of what your companions would think of their fearless leader degrading herself so willingly for a devil.

But your body acted of its own volition, obeying his orders and climbing into the bed rather ungracefully. You sat towards the edge of the bed on your heels, kneeling before him as if he were the answer to your prayers, despite him being the main threat to your existence in this moment.

He approached the mattress with slow and calculated steps while his tail swished behind him like an irritated cat. His wings extended out wide, encompassing you and blocking your view of anything but him.

His hand raised, and you instinctively flinched, only for him to slowly stroke his knuckles down the side of your cheek. His lips curled into a wicked grin in response to your fear. “Don’t act so scared, little thief. I won’t harm you… yet.”

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest at the promise of pain.

He gripped your chin tightly with his thumb and finger, pressing his claw into your bottom lip. When your lips instinctively parted, he dove in. You never expected his kisses to be gentle, but the scorch of his lips pulled a surprised noise out of you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let him consume you with greedy licks of his hot tongue.

His other hand grazed your cheek before tracing down the side of your neck, claws scratching against your soft skin as he slid that hand into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When your hands moved to touch him, he gripped your hair and yanked your head back harshly, prying your open mouth from his. You whimpered from the sting of your hair almost being ripped out.

“You will not move until instructed. Do you understand?”

You tried to nod your head, but his firm grip on your hair didn’t allow much wiggle room.

“Use your words, pet.” His eyes were half-lidded with lust, but the cruel glare shined through his fiery irises.

“Yes,” you squeaked. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at how weak you felt in that moment, when your entire journey seemed to have been about proving your strength.

“Yes, what?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes at you. He was searching for submission in your frightened eyes, attempting to crush any form of rebellion against him you had left.

You reactively gulped, mouth suddenly dry as you realized what he wanted. With your voice as meek and vulnerable as you had ever heard it, you whispered, “Yes, master.”

The sharp-toothed grin that spread across his face could only be described as pure evil. The hero of Faerun, the ender of the Shadow Curse and life-saver to any unfortunate soul who crossed your path, was nothing but a mere pet to their new master.

“I so enjoy that title from your lips, dearest pet,” he hummed.

Before you could think of any response, his heavy hands swiftly moved to shove your shoulders back, sending you flying into mattress. You landed with a gasp on your back, and he was quick to pull your legs towards him, spreading you wide for him.

He had been able to smell your arousal from the moment he laid eyes on you in his home, but seeing now how truly wet you were for him, slick dripping from your folds and smeared across your inner thighs, it seemed to boost his ego beyond his absurd level of narcissism. “My, my,” he mused, swiping a clawed finger along your drenched slit, “it seems you rather enjoy submitting to my whims.”

Without instruction to move, you gripped the silken sheets with quick, shaky breaths as he toyed with you. When his claw caught on your clit, you inhaled sharply and bit down in your bottom lip.

Suddenly, two large fingers were shoved into you, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you at the feeling of being stretched beyond what your own two fingers could manage. His pace was teasingly slow as he watched your body react to his touch, how your thighs trembled and your abdomen clenched. When his gaze shifted up at your eyes squeezed shut, he paused his motions. “Eyes on me, little mouse. You wouldn’t want me to take your averted gaze as disrespect, would you?”

“No,” you whimpered, opening your eyes slowly. When you met his eyes, his stare was downright predatory, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“No?” he asked sharply, correcting your mistake of forgetting your manners. He forced his hand in deep, and you felt the tips of his claws press into your cervix in a warning.

“No, master.” Your brows upturned with an unspoken apology.

“Do not make me remind you again,” he threatened, digging his claws deeper into the flesh of your cunt.

“I’m sorry, master,” you whined. You could feel your walls throbbing around his hot fingers.

Satisfied with your reply, he continued pumping his fingers into you, letting his sharp claws freely scrape against your insides. Your moans mixed with winces as you experienced the pleasure mixing with pain in a way you never pictured yourself enjoying so much.

After what felt like an eternity of such sinful pleasure, a warmth bloomed below your stomach, pulling a string tight within you. When your walls tightened around his fingers, he pulled them out, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips as that feeling in your abdomen sizzled out.

“Fret not, dearest thief, we’re not done yet,” he murmured before stepping back from the bed and snapping his wet fingers.

A flash of bright flames sparked, and you recognized the devilish form that appeared beside the bed.

“You called, master?” Haarlep asked, shifting his gaze from the still-clothed cambion to your naked body with unbridled lust.

Raphael looked over at Haarlep, and you witnessed the possessive gleam in his eyes fade into something colder and strangely more distant in regards to his personal incubus. “I want you to fuck our little thief,” he said bluntly. “And do make sure she comes. It will make the next act of our torrid affair… easier to handle.”

His phrasing had your mind beginning to spin with worry, but before you could vocalize any concerns, Haarlep obliged his master. He crawled onto the bed with fluid movements and slithered over your smaller frame, lining up his already-hard cock with your soaked entrance.

“Wait,” Raphael barked. Haarlep turned towards his master, and you both watched as Raphael walked towards the side of the bed and snapped his fingers once more. An elegant chair appeared behind him, and he promptly sat, crossing his leg over his knee and curling his fingers around his chin as if he were in deep thought. “Now, you may begin.”

At his words, Haarlep turned back to you, smiling wickedly. “I remember you,” he said, his voice identical to Raphael’s but with more whimsy, “you were the little mouse who snuck around the cat’s house. How does it feel to be beneath his claws?”

“Haarlep, your order was to fuck her, not to make conversation,” You could hear the annoyance in his tone.

“Very well, master,” Haarlep said, before settling his hands on the plump flesh of your hips and pushing into you. The first thing you felt was the sting of the stretch, much larger than anything you had felt before. You panted between pained moans as the ridges and bumps that adorned his member dragged along your tight walls, and your eyes squeezed shut involuntarily in response.

“Eyes on me, pet,” Raphael said, and you obediently opened them once more, turning your head to face him as Haarlep ground his hips against yours to nudge his cock deeper into you. Raphael studied your face as your brows upturned and your mouth hung open in intense pleasure.

You could see outline of Raphael’s erection through his breeches; he was feeling every sensation that the incubus was as you were taken in front of him. Raphael's eyes remained on you as he demanded, “Harder,” but you could tell the order was not for you when Haarlep’s grip on your hips tightened. His claws left deep, crescent-shaped indentions as they dug into your delicate skin.

Haarlep’s sensual slower thrusting then became hard pounding, and the sound of wet skin slapping against skin began to fill the room, along with the noises he pulled out of you. Your knuckles turned white from the grip you had on Raphael’s sheets as your low moans morphed into cries of pleasure. Your eyes were still on his but beginning to blur with tears as he watched you be fucked relentlessly by his copy.

Raphael let out his own quiet groans as he felt the sensation of your phantom cunt squeezing and quivering around him. He smoothly uncrossed his legs, spreading his thighs in a deliciously dominant way and untied the string to his breeches to free his aching cock. Precum leaked from his tip as he lazily stroked his shaft.

“Touch her,” he ordered Haarlep. You grew somehow even wetter at his orders when his eyes never left you.

“As you wish,” you heard Haarlep’s voice sing out, his face just barely in your peripheral view. One of his hands moved from your hip to your most sensitive region, and you gasped loudly at the caress of your clit as he continued his hard thrusts.

At the sensation of your clit being touched and the pleasurable pounding you were taking, your knees lifted of their own accord to hold at Haarlep's hips. You could feel the bruises forming already from the ridges on his hips digging into your skin, yet that string inside of you wound tightly once more. You knew it wouldn’t take long for it to snap.

Your loud moans were music to Raphael’s ears as he stroked harder and tighter, his cock now glistening with an abundance of precum. He grunted before asking in a voice even lower and reverberant than before, “Do you wish to come, little mouse?”

“Yes, master,” you managed through your moans.

“And she calls you ‘master’,” Haarlep cooed at your use of the word. “What a delectable little mouse, indeed.”

Haarlep’s generous circling of your aching clit and deep rutting had you seeing stars. You could feel yourself on the cusp of your orgasm, and your thighs began to shake vigorously from holding it back. Raphael could see this, watching you teeter on that edge with a lick of his lips.

He waited, of course.

Pleasure turned into torture as you wailed, your fingers going numb from how tightly you were gripping the sheets. Your muscles grew taught with the exertion of holding in your orgasm.

You didn’t want to beg, but you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, master!” you cried out, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

When your cries of pleasure became pitiful sobs, Raphael finally relented.

“Go on then, pet. Come for me.”

With a strained moan, your back arched and your vision blurred as white hot pleasure flooded through you, ebbing through you in waves as Haarlep rode you through it, pounding so hard you could feel it bruise your cervix.

Your thighs twitched as your legs instinctively tried to close from the overstimulation of still being ravaged by the incubus, but Haarlep moved his hands to your knees to keep your legs pried open for him as he continued.

“Enough.” Raphael stood up from his chair as Haarlep stopped his movements, stilling himself inside of you and turned his head towards Raphael. “Up.”

You looked to Haarlep, and Haarlep glanced your way quickly to express his annoyance in having to stop before pulling himself off of you. You let out a soft whine as he pulled his cock out of you, feeling suddenly empty.

“You as well,” Raphael said, gesturing at your limp body.

You took in a deep breath and sat up, muscles already sore as you slinked off of the bed. When you stood up, your knees almost buckled beneath you, but you kept yourself up on trembling legs. He noticed, smirking to himself at your weakened state.

With another snap of his fingers, his clothes were gone, and you couldn’t help but stare at his naked form. You had seen it on Haarlep, but Haarlep’s form was a little less sharp than Raphael’s, with his slightly rounder jaw and softer nose. Raphael’s true naked form was enthralling, the divots and ridges on his body seeming sharper, more dangerous.

He took his place on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a smug expression. He gestured to his cock, still erect and glistening with his precum.

You understood the silent command, climbing back onto the bed. You crawled on all fours towards him and took the opportunity to freely graze your hands up his muscular legs, touching as much skin as you could—as much skin as you were allowed to touch. Despite how rough the two fiends had been with you, your touch was adoring and gentle as your fingertips brushed over the ridges and protruding veins.

When Raphael's expression shifted from inquisitive to impatient, you took it as a cue to fulfill his desire and made your way to his lap to straddle his textured hips. You let your drenched folds glide over his shaft in a slight teasing manner, this being the only teasing you could sneak in before his hands seized the meat of your thighs to serve as a reminder of who was in charge.

You took the large member in your much smaller hand while your other hand landed on his broad chest for stability, and you slid the head of his cock down your slit to guide it towards your entrance. With a sharp breath, you pushed down onto him, still feeling sore from the previous pounding. When your hips landed against his with him fully sheathed, you took a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him yet again. Both of your hands on his chest now, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, and he, in turn, gave your thighs an assertive squeeze to let you know he was done waiting.

Your pace was slow on weak thighs as you rocked yourself against him. But his cock nudging that soft spot deep in your core egged you on, giving you just enough energy to revitalize your need.

You let yourself fall against him, clinging to him and nestling your face in the warmth that was the crook of his neck as you chased that high once more. His hands moved to your waist, forcing you down harder against him, and you couldn't stop the whimpers tumbling past your lips, landing right in his ear.

You felt the bed dip in weight behind you, but you were too focused on the grind of your hips and the pleasure climbing in your core to pay any mind to it.

"What a naughty little pet," you heard Haarlep muse from behind you, but you didn't dare slow or stop your movements. Haarlep sat himself atop Rapahel's mid-thighs, planting himself right behind you, and you could feel his heat radiating onto your back.

"Some spittle, to prepare her," Raphael instructed through soft grunts, and Haarlep eagerly complied, deftly snaking a large hand around the column of your throat before suddenly prying you off of Raphael and pulling you back against him.

Then Haarlep took his turn devouring your lips. His kiss was much more gentle than Raphael's, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch. Your hips ground down harder against Raphael as Haarlep beckoned your lips open with a swipe of his tongue. The second your lips parted for him, his tongue was barging into your mouth, stroking your tongue with tender licks.

When the saliva seeping down your throat made you reactively gulp, you felt your insides light up with an energy that could only be described as carnal lust in its most calamitous form. Electricity seeped into every fiber of your being, tingling all the way down to your fingers and toes. Every muscle in your body ached for sex, more and more sex until it consumed you whole.

Subconsciously, your pace atop Raphael quickened. Your moans, muffled by Haarlep's mouth on yours, heightened in pitch and intensity. Arousal pooled beneath you, leaking onto Raphael's skin and aiding your gliding atop his hips.

Raphael leaned forward, greedily taking a nipple into his mouth while his other hand groped at your other breast roughly. Your hands flew to his head, your fingers digging into his soft hair as you pulled him further against you. You practically mewled when his hot tongue ran over the bud, letting his sharpened teeth scratch your sensitive skin as he sucked.

Your core felt dangerously aflame with a mounting pleasure surging through every inch of your body. Haarlep released your lips, eyes burning into yours to watch his spittle work its magic on you. With his hand still on your throat, his other hand tickled the skin along your spine as it snuck down your back.

In your haze of primal desire, you almost didn't notice Haarlep's fingers swipe at the puddle of your own wetness beneath you, until you felt those fingers smear the slick over your unused hole. Still holding his stare, your eyes widened at the realization of what the next act of your "torrid affair" truly was.

Raphael intended to stuff you full of two cocks, both of which he would be feeling inside of you.

Your mouth dropped open, attempting to stutter out any protest you could think of in the moment, but your words—or lack thereof—were cut short by the hand around your throat quickly moving up. Your jaw was abruptly encapsulated by Haarlep's large hand, muffling any noise you could make.

"Hush now," his voice rumbled in your ear, sending more tingles down your spine. Your labored breathing through your nostrils sounded loud against his hand. "Don't you want to be a good little mouse for your master?"

At the word, Raphael released your breasts, paying his full attention to the interaction between you and Haarlep. You felt him pull away, and your frantic eyes locked with his in a silent plea. You had never had any lovers use that particular hole; you weren't ready for it to be intruded upon.

But the spittle in your veins begged for more.

The tip of Haarlep's cock pressed into the tight ring of muscle, and the feeling was... strange, to say the least. You never used this hole in any pursuits of passion, you never thought to. It was uncomfortable, but the member still being coated in your slick made it easier to take.

The stretch as he pushed in farther burned more than it did in your cunt, and low, pained moans slipped past your lips in response, still muffled by Haarlep's hand.

You stilled your movements, unable to continue grinding with this new sensation distracting you. Your inner walls throbbed around the two cocks, and you could feel the sweat covering your skin, spurred on by the heat of the two infernal bodies surrounding you. With your eyes still on Raphael's, your chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths.

"It seems our little thief needs some aid," Raphael said, his voice more gravelly than before. He removed his hands from your waist, allowing Haarlep's hands to take his place, and you sucked in a sharp breath the second your mouth was freed.

"Sing for us, little mouse," Haarlep whispered in your ear before he forced you down by the waist, plunging the two cocks deep into you.

You shrieked at the pain, and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. The stretch, the burning, the stinging; it was too much. But you were not granted a moment of reprieve when Haarlep effortlessly lifted you and shoved you down repeatedly.

The spittle in your system felt like a godsend now, easing the pain and turning it into a plethora of pleasure as the ridged cocks ground together with the only barrier between them being your slick inner walls. You continued to wail, it being the only sound your used, feeble body could make.

Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open as your vision blurred from your tears.

But Raphael would not allow your eyes to close. He wiped the sweat-soaked strands of hair from your face before gripping your jaw with a grip that almost crumbled the bone.

"Eyes. On. Me."

The dam finally broke, and the tears leaked down your face inn warm streams as you blubbered, "I- I can't. T-too much."

He laughed coldly in your face, his broad chest bouncing with the deep chuckle. "Thieves must be punished, dear. Is this not a merciful punishment? Would you rather I skin you? Maim you, hm? Make you bleed?"

You sobbed, your body shaking. You couldn't even tell if it was cries of pleasure or cries of terror; you were too far gone as the devil and his incubus abused your frail, mortal body.

That familiar string winding tight in your lower belly once more was the hint that it was, in fact, cries of immense pleasure, the kind of body-wrecking pleasure that you could never experience with another mortal soul.

Raphael could feel you tightening around him, and the sight of his favorite little misadventurer, his dearest thief, falling apart so beautifully under his claws...

This image of you would make the most wonderful painting to adorn his grand halls.

Haarlep felt it too, and his response to it was to quicken his forceful pace of shoving you down on him and Raphael. His hold on you was so tight that his claws dug into your sides, and small beads of blood trickled down your sweaty skin, not that you even noticed in the moment.

The rapidity of being shoved on two cocks and the pressure of them digging into every soft spot inside of you had you racing towards a powerful orgasm. You could see in Raphael eye's that he was near his own end with his quick grunts and heaving chest. His hold on your jaw loosened and changed to a gentle holding of your chin, keeping your teary eyes on him throughout all of this, while his other hand sought out your clit once more. He wanted to feel you come apart.

And come apart, you did.

With one last wail, a tsunami of blindingly hot pleasure surged through you, sending every nerve into overdrive. Your walls squeezed the two cocks tightly, and every continual shove down on them resurged the bliss until your body was convulsing.

The squeeze of your cunt and sound of your cries pulled his orgasm out of Raphael, and his lips parted. In a chorus of low and sultry noises, you felt him and Haarlep come inside of you in tandem, the molten heat of infernal seed filling up both of your holes.

When they finally stilled, Haarlep released his grip on your waist, and you instantly keeled over, landing against Raphael's chest with a barely-audible whine. You were exhausted, out of breath, and slick with sweat and a faint amount of your own blood.

Raphael's breathing returned to a normal pace almost immediately, and you listened to the heavy beat of his steady heart to ground yourself back to reality. He let you lay on him for a moment and stroked your hair rather gently, unusual considering how cruel he tended to be.

Haarlep noticed this, eyeing his master with a suspicious gaze. Has the devil gone soft for a mere mortal, and a thieving one no less?

Raphael motioned to dismiss Haarlep with a wave of his hand, not even giving the incubus the dignity of a verbal dismissal.

Haarlep pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of your used hole. A whine hitched in your throat at the motion as you tried to control your breathing. He slipped off of the bed and gave Raphael one last mischievous glance before disappearing in a quick haze of sparkling flames.

Once you were alone with Raphael, his hand reached for your face, lifting your head up to meet your tired eyes. “You did very well, little mouse. You’ve proven time and time again to be far more resilient than I originally gave you credit for.”

Your arms trembled as you lifted yourself off of his chest. All of the doubt and fear you had tucked away when the pleasure rolled in came flooding back. “What’s going to happen to me?”

He smirked at your nervousness. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger while he murmured with his smooth, deep voice, "You will rest in the House of Hope tonight, little thief. And tomorrow, you will be back on the road with your merry band of misfits. I still need the Crown, and how very lucky for you that I still have your contract."

The contract. The very item you were caught stealing. You were still merely a pawn in his overarching game of chess, but he was right.

How lucky for you that your services were still needed.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #bg3 smut #bg3 haarlep

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pascaloverx · 2 months ago

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BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading. I would like to thank my best friend who, besides being a faithful reader of this fanfic, gave me the idea of the little confrontation between the Cannibal and Vermax dragons, thank you @dipyouuinhoney ❤️

Warning: This chapter will contain violence, as well as inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.

THREE FIVE

FOUR (+18)

Facing the dragon Cannibal, you heard his powerful roar, a clear attempt to communicate with his new rider—you. His restlessness was evident, perhaps driven by the need to understand why someone had disturbed him or because you were accompanied by a stranger. Or perhaps he sensed your own discomfort. The dark, rugged-scaled beast spread his wings in an imposing display, a signal that he was ready to take flight. His sharp teeth, glistening with a trace of blood between them, were fully exposed. You noticed his impatient paws pressing into the ground, claws sharp and ready. There was no doubt—this dragon would be a formidable asset in the war between King Aegon II's forces and the dragons fighting for Princess Rhaenyra.

"Uēpa taoba, dohaerās. Kostilus, rȳbagon," you command with a firm, dominant tone, attempting to assert control over Cannibal, readying him for what was to come. As you glance back, you notice Prince Aemond gazing at the dragon with unmistakable admiration—perhaps even something more. You could swear that he seems slightly aroused by the sight of you and Cannibal bonding. However, not wanting to acknowledge this observation, you quickly avert your gaze the moment he catches you watching him. The dragon lowers his snout toward you, as if trying to catch your scent. The blood of Aemond, still fresh on your skin, must be lingering in the air, drawing Cannibal closer.

"Sȳz gundjabo, sȳz zaldrīzes," Prince Aemond murmurs as he passes by you, moving closer to Cannibal. The dragon seems aware of the fact that both of you will soon take flight with him. Aemond, of course, never misses the chance to remind you of your station—what you are to him. Yet, in this moment, you’re far too anxious to care about his words. The looming flight, the dragon's immense power, and the weight of what lies ahead consume your thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

"Sȳz kipagīros, sȳz zaldrīzes; ñuha dārilaros. SōVegon, Cannibal," you gently correct Prince Aemond as both of you situate yourselves atop the dragon. After all, to your dragon, you are the rider, the one who will guide him down paths even you cannot yet foresee. In an attempt to appease Aemond, you address him formally in High Valyrian, acknowledging his status. As you position yourself on Cannibal, the sensation of his rough scales beneath you feels strange, unsettling even. Yet, without hesitation, you give the command for him to take flight. The air is filled with tension as the dragon obeys, lifting off the ground with powerful, sweeping wings.

"Be prepared for battle commands. If I know my strong nephew, blessed with the temperament of his late father, he will attempt to hinder our path. Do not allow Cannibal to kill him. That privilege does not belong to you," Prince Aemond commands, as though you are merely his dragon to control. He must be longing for Vhagar. However, you have no desire to harm any of Rhaenyra’s children. Making such a mistake would be far too reckless, and you are fully aware of it.

Prince Aemond's hands grip you tightly as you turn to look at him in order to respond. It is then that you notice a dragon approaching swiftly from the distance. With green scales and a more agile frame, it is small in comparison to Vhagar or even Cannibal. The rider of this dragon is coming with a speed that suggests a fierce desire for combat between their beast and yours.

"Aderī, Cannibal,"you command, and the dragon responds, accelerating towards King's Landing with a newfound agility.

"I do not wish to confront your nephew, Your Highness," you add, showcasing your ability to communicate both with your dragon and the impatient prince behind you. Aemond lets out a low grunt of frustration, likely longing for Vhagar to teach his nephew a lesson. As the son of Rhaenyra closes the distance, Cannibal visibly tenses at the proximity of the other dragon. With a swift maneuver, he performs a roll in the air, seeking to gain control. Aemond's hands grip you firmly, and you feel the heat radiating from your palms as you hold onto Cannibal, the tension mounting in the air.

Cannibal manages to distance himself from the smaller dragon, soaring above the waters where you once bathed alongside Aemond. The memory floods back, momentarily distracting you from the imminent danger. Your focus snaps back as you notice a flame nearly singe Cannibal’s wing. The heat from the attack of Rhaenyra's son sears your left hand.

"Angōs, Cannibal!" you shout through the pain of your scorched skin. At your command, your dragon rises, pursuing the smaller foe with determination. Cannibal requires no further direction; he unleashes a powerful blast of fire towards the smaller dragon, igniting part of the sky in a fierce blaze, as if he intends to incinerate everything in his path.

He clearly does not relish the thought of being commanded like this, least of all to celebrate a moment you know he feels is rightfully his. "Lykirī, Canibal!"you call out with urgency, hoping your dragon heeds your words to ensure the safety of his target. Amidst the roars and growls, Cannibal finally begins to settle, responding to your command as he assesses the outcome of the encounter.

"My strong and cunning nephew, hie thee to Dragonstone and alert your mother of the perils of being a wily fool." Prince Aemond takes the lead, addressing his curly-haired, brown-haired nephew as soon as he lays eyes upon him. The young lad's dragon bears a slight opening in one of its wings, likely from the intensity of the flames, or perchance Cannibal has grazed it lightly with his talon.

"My dear one-eyed uncle, I trust you do not believe this to be over. You and your usurper brother shall lose this war," the brown-haired nephew of Aemond declares in his most threatening tone. His words enrage the prince, and in a fit of fury, Aemond loses his composure, shouting, "Drakarys!" in a desperate command to Cannibal. Yet, the dragon does not obey. Instead, Cannibal stretches his claws toward the smaller dragon as if to intimidate, releasing a thunderous roar that shakes the very air around them.

"Choose your next move wisely, prince. You wouldn’t want your mother to bury another son," you warn Rhaenyra's son, your voice steady despite the tension thickening in the air. Though Aemond’s command failed, there is little you can do to rein in both the prince and your dragon. Cannibal, still looming and poised to strike, waits for no one’s control, and Aemond’s rage is far from spent. The weight of the moment presses on you, knowing that any misstep could unleash disaster. Your words seem to have an effect on Aemond’s nephew, who slowly retreats. You watch as he commands his dragon to return to Dragonstone, while Canibal resumes his course toward King’s Landing.

“You should have commanded Cannibal to strike him again,” Prince Aemond mutters close to your ear, frustration seeping into his voice.

“Your Highness, the death of your other nephew is not mine. It was by your own commands,” you reply, catching him off guard with the weight of your words. For the remainder of the journey, neither of you says another word. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken tension and the cold reality of what lies ahead.

Your dragon lets out a powerful roar as you approach King’s Landing, as if announcing his arrival. Cannibal swiftly glides toward the Dragonpit, and you can feel Prince Aemond's fingers brushing along your waist, almost as if exploring it. Cannibal lands amidst the growls of other dragons, releasing a burst of fire into the air as he adjusts himself on the ground. The Dragonkeepers gather around, making both you and your dragon uneasy. You wonder if Cannibal might attack them—if he cannot be fully tamed, his value to King Aegon II could be compromised.

You know that maintaining eye contact with Cannibal is crucial to calming him down. Between one growl and another, your dragon settles on the ground, lowering himself slightly. Prince Aemond dismounts with ease, accustomed to the task, while you, on the other hand, struggle on your third attempt to climb down. You start considering whether staying atop your dragon forever might be preferable. Impatience seeps into you as it does into your dragon. Just as you're about to give up, Prince Aemond’s attention shifts back to you after exchanging words with the Dragonkeepers. Like before with the horse, he extends his arms toward you, offering assistance.

"Gundjabo, you must learn how to dismount your dragon," Prince Aemond whispers near your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. The way he helped you down from Cannibal still lingers in your thoughts, the proximity between you far too intimate. You try to respond, but no words seem to form, your voice betraying you. The truth, undeniable as it is, swells within you—you are undeniably drawn to Aemond Targaryen, with a hunger that you can no longer ignore.

"The King summons you both, Your Highness. He insists you be prepared for the banquet he is hosting in honor of his newest dragon's conquest. He desires the presence of both his brother and the dragon's rider as soon as possible," one of the King's servants announces as she approaches. Aemond stiffens, his expression darkening in clear displeasure, and he releases a low growl, a hint of frustration in his gaze. He clearly does not relish the thought of being commanded like this, least of all to celebrate a moment you know he feels is rightfully his.

"Inform the King that we shall join him shortly to celebrate this victory. I trust my bath is prepared, and the gundjabo will ready herself in my company. Ensure she is provided with new attire." Prince Aemond's command is sharp and unyielding, and the servant quickly scurries off to carry out his orders. You feel a rush of shock at the thought of undressing in the presence of Prince Aemond, but your mind immediately shifts to a more pressing concern—calming your dragon. As Aemond exchanges words with a few of the keepers, you make your way to Cannibal. His dark, formidable presence looms as you approach, but you reach out, your hand finding his rough scales. You whisper a brief farewell, a silent promise to return, feeling the bond between you and the mighty beast grow with each touch.

In silence, you follow Prince Aemond to his chambers, trying to discern why he insists on you preparing yourself in his presence. Two possibilities run through your mind: perhaps he seeks to assert his dominance over you, a display of power to ward off any designs his brother might have upon you; or perhaps, this is some form of punishment for the wound you inflicted earlier. His blood still stains your skin, and no doubt the pain from where you cut him lingers. The thought settles heavily—whatever his motive, you are likely in for a reckoning.

"Disrobe yourself; we shall bathe together. Afterward, you will be formally introduced to King Aegon II Targaryen . Know that every action you take in His Grace’s presence will be under my scrutiny, and any misstep will bring consequences upon you," Prince Aemond commands, his voice laced with authority as he begins to undress before you. His words send a shiver down your spine, the implications of his warning settling heavily on your mind. The thought of what consequences might await you under his watchful eye is enough to stir anxiety. It’s no surprise that Aemond seeks to instill fear—he thrives on your desperation, needing to ensure your obedience through intimidation.

"I do not think it proper for me to be bare in your presence, Your Highness. Surely, I can afford you the necessary privacy and prepare myself elsewhere. If you would excuse me..." you attempt, feigning modesty as an excuse to escape the looming consequences of your earlier actions. But before you can slip away, Aemond’s hand grasps your arm with a firm resolve, pressing you against the door of his chambers. His fingers trail up toward your neck, lingering there as if assessing every inch of your skin, studying you like prey caught in his grasp. His one good eye follows the curve of your form, tracing from head to toe in a slow, deliberate gaze. Your breath catches, growing shallow as uncertainty floods your mind. You stand frozen, unsure of what awaits next under his unrelenting scrutiny, as the tension between you grows palpable, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Gundjabo, gundjabo... cease these futile attempts to flee from me. Believe me, within these grand walls, I am the closest thing to safety you shall find. And I think propriety is no longer a concern between us. Now, be a good girl and obey me, before my patience wears thin." Aemond's voice drips with menace as he grips your face, turning it aside so his lips hover near your ear, his words slow and deliberate. His hold is firm, unyielding, and the weight of his command sends a shiver down your spine. Your breath falters, betraying the rising doubt in your ability to navigate this situation. Survival seems like a distant notion, slipping further from reach with each moment spent under his watchful eye. You can feel his control tightening like a noose around your freedom, leaving you cornered. With trembling resolve, you grip his hand, pulling it away from your face without a word. His gaze never wavers, a predatory intensity burning within, watching your every move. Though his words still echo in your mind, you begin to comply with his original order, slowly giving in to the dangerous dance that lies ahead.

You slowly remove your clothing, hoping that Prince Aemond won't torture you for hurting him. He lets out a moan that sounds more like a "hmm" as you finish getting off. When you finish taking off your clothes, he motions with his head for you to take off his clothes too. He had already taken off some of his clothes so in a few moments, he was naked. His dick was slightly hard was on display, which caught your attention. He walked over to enter his bath but not before carrying you into the bath with him. His arms wrapping around you, forcing you into the water with him, surprises you. Until then you didn't think Aemond had that much strength. But now that you're taking a bath together, you are trying to force yourself to think about how to calm him down. You approach him, helping him clean himself; all the while touching every part of Prince Aemond's body.

"Your Highness seems tense, perhaps there is something I can do to help you release all that tension..." You say as you run your hands over Aemond's chest, your fingers moving delicately down groping the hitherto unexplored body of your beloved Prince Aemond. When your fingers reach Aemond's cock, you see the Prince close his eye. He is receptive to your touch as you run your hand over his cock, stimulating it. Your hand moving back and forth slowly as you listens to the muffled moans of Prince Aemond who has his head turned back. Your movements become faster as you feel him becoming more and more surrendered in your hands. You approach Prince Aemond's neck, kissing the spot you cut. The Prince lets out a moan as you kiss his neck again now rising with the kisses, while continuing to make movements on his cock. You kiss Aemond's chin, then his mouth. You try to have some dominance in the kiss because his eye is still closed but as soon as your tongue meets his, he seems to light up. He sucks on your tongue as if tasting a delicious fruit, while pressing you against the bathtub. He then cums in your hand, while letting out a grunt as if he enjoyed it. His gaze upon you is a mixture of pleasure with something else, like pure evil. He gives you a mischievous smile just before pressing you underwater. His hands are pushing you to stay underwater while you try to use your strength to not drown. You're thrashing around, touching every part of Aemond's body to see if he'll let go of you. You start to run out of air, your attempts to survive aren't working so you decide to accept your imminent death. It is then that Aemond pulls you up, as he watches you trying to breathe desperately. As soon as your breath returns to you, you face Prince Aemond. He has a victorious smile on his face, as if he is teaching you a lesson.

"Next time you consider harming me, make sure I do not survive. Otherwise, you shall face a fate far more cruel than merely sharing a bath. But I must say, your skills with your hands, gundjabo, are quite... relaxing." Prince Aemond's voice is chillingly casual, as though the near-murderous tension between you has been nothing more than a passing amusement for him. His gaze lingers on your expression, clearly relishing the fear flickering across your features. For a moment, you stand frozen, words failing you in the face of his menacing calm. The weight of his threat settles in your chest, but you decide it’s best not to challenge him further.

Without uttering a single word, you quickly finish bathing, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere surrounding him. As soon as you step out of the bath, your hands tremble slightly while you hurriedly dress in the green gown laid out for you. Wasting no time, you leave Prince Aemond's chambers as swiftly as your legs will carry you, the feeling of his predatory gaze still burning at your back as you depart to face the next trial—an audience with his brother, King Aegon II.

TO BE CONTINUED

GLOSSARY

Uēpa - Old

Taoba - Boy

Dohaerās - Serve

Kostilus - Please

Rȳbagon - Obey

Sȳz - Good

Gundjabo - Prostitute

Zaldrīzes - Dragon

Kipagīros - Rider

Ñuha Dārilaros - My Prince

SōVegon - Fly

Aderī - Quickly

Angōs - Attack

Lyriri - Calm down

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bzurk · 4 months ago

Note

don’t feel obligated to respond at all my beloved but i would looooove to know your thoughts on könig & knife/gun play <3

also i saw your funny number follower post, congrats!!! you deserve so many more i stg you’re one of the most underrated writers in this godforsaken fandom.

- Dad <3

My headcanon… König is not nice. He is an arrogant, proud and cocky man. He takes looking down on people to another level.

"And they said I couldn't be a sniper..."

“Let’s be honest… It’s better off in my hands.”

“Hands off, It’s mine.”

Like, he knows he’s big. He knows he’s scary. He knows he’s good at what he does. His broad shoulders and towering frame are weapons in their own right, constantly reminding others of their inferiority.

He relishes in their discomfort, in the way they avert their eyes and step aside.

He is not the same kid who was relentlessly bullied and harassed, shoved into lockers and ridiculed. He spent so much time alone, stuck in his head, thinking the world was out to get him, afraid.

It hardened him, made him antagonistic and cruel.

Covered by his mask, König could be someone else entirely.

This... side of his comes easily when he has you in his palms, malleable and docile, sharp edges dulled by fear. Something for him, and him alone, a precious treasure for his eyes only.

And once you're in his grasp, he can do whatever he fucking wants to you. He knows you won't talk back, won't deny him, not when he is so much bigger than you, when he could snap your neck with the flick of a wrist.

But he wouldn't hurt you. Not intentionally, anyway.

Threatening you, though? Proving just how much bigger and stronger than you he is? He thrives off it.

The cold barrel of his pistol gliding over your tongue and chipping at your tooth enamel, his name carved into your hip, bruises in the shapes of his fingers, his knife pressed against your throat-

Anyway, rant over- YOU MAKE ME WANNA WRITE FOR KONIG NOW grrrr

cw below the cut: predator/prey, knifeplay

The labyrinth swallows you whole, its corridors twisting like the coils of a serpent, leading you deeper into its grasp. Each turn is a gamble, a frantic bid to outpace the monstrous presence that dogs your every step. Your breath is ragged, each inhale a knife to the lungs, and your heart hammers a frantic rhythm against your ribs, urging you onward. You curse your shoes - sharp, sensible, and utterly impractical - biting into your feet like a predator gnashing its teeth.

The Minotaur breathes down your neck, a force of nature you cannot outrun. Every shadow is its claw, every echo its growl. You are a sacrifice in this man-made labyrinth, the gods demanding blood and fear as tribute. The offices you sprint past, once a sanctuary of mundane routine, are now twisted visions of horror. Desks loom like skeletal remains, chairs crouch like beasts ready to pounce, and the flickering glow of monitors watches with an indifferent gaze, a silent audience to your terror.

Time warps and distorts, stretching and snapping like the sinews of your aching legs. The world has narrowed to the staccato rhythm of your footfalls, the shrill wail of the alarms a discordant symphony, and the relentless pursuit of the creature behind you.

Desperation claws at your mind, a frenzied beast in its own right. You grab a chair as you run past, flinging it behind you with every ounce of strength you can muster. The chair crashes to the floor, an explosion of sound in the cacophony of the chase. For a moment, you hear the beast stumble, a snarl of frustration echoing off the walls.

But it's not enough. It never is.

The beast is upon you in a heartbeat, a shadow of rage and power that slams you against a desk with bone-jarring force, the collision of a heavy animal ploughing into your ribs, squeezing the air from your lungs and the panic from your head. Pain blooms through your body, and static takes your vision. Your lungs scream and scream and scream for breath to no avail, muscles spasming. The hit is like a system reset to your body, shutting down all of your functions only to reboot them in a heartbeat.

The Minotaur is faster. He is built from pure muscle and sinew, bulging and heaving under the blaring red lights, the silhouette reaching for the ceiling. He grunts and groans, breath expelled harshly in a facsimile of exhaustion.

The Minotaur steps into the blaring red light of the alarm, its glow revealing him in a series of sharp, fractured images.

What stands before you isn't a creature forged from myth and nightmare, but a man, a towering figure encased in the cold precision of tactical gear. His silhouette is all harsh lines and rugged edges, a mountain of muscle and sinew crafted for power and endurance.

A hood drapes over his head, its fabric heavy with the residue of shadow and blood, concealing most of his features, except for the sharp glint of his eyes; a glacial blue that pierces through the darkness. Those eyes hold no mercy, no hesitation, only the cold calculation of a predator who knows his place at the top of the food chain.

In one hand he grips a large combat knife, its blade gleaming wickedly in the crimson light, reflecting lethal intent. The knife seems like an extension of him, as natural as the breath he expels in harsh, rhythmic intervals. Every part of him speaks of discipline, of a man moulded into a weapon as much by choice as by necessity.

He regards you with an intensity that burns through the space between you, a look that speaks volumes without uttering a word. It tells of dominance and disdain, the arrogance of a hunter who has already decided the outcome of this encounter. And as you lie there, splayed and breathless, you realize that this man, this Minotaur in human form, is the living embodiment of your worst fears - a predator who revels in the chase and takes grim satisfaction in knowing that escape is futile, in knowing that he has won.

The Minotaur steps closer, his heavy boots echoing on the linoleum floor, each step deliberate and filled with purpose. His presence looms over you like a dark, oppressive storm, blotting out any hope of escape. He plants his feet on either side of your hips, a calculated move that pins you in place, trapping you beneath his imposing figure.

His eyes, those cold, glacial blue eyes, narrow slightly with amusement as he regards you - splayed out, wide-eyed and breathless, a deer caught in the headlights. He reaches down, his hand moving with a predator's grace, and grips the collar of your blouse. The fabric strains against his hold, and you can feel the cold, unyielding steel of the knife pressing into the hollow of your throat, its edge a chilling promise of violence.

"Pretty thing," he coos, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sends a shiver down your spine.

There’s a twisted satisfaction in the way he speaks, a predator savouring the fear that radiates from you like heat. His words are a mockery, dripping with condescension, as if your fear is nothing more than a source of entertainment to him. You can see his eyes crinkle with delight beneath the hood, the corners creased in a perverse kind of happiness. It's a manic joy, one that revels in the power he holds over you, in the certainty of his victory.

"You put up a good chase," he continues, almost conversationally, as if discussing the weather or a mundane day at work. The knife presses just a fraction deeper, piercing skin, a reminder of the precariousness of your situation. "But in the end, you know it was futile, don't you?"

His voice is a mix of admiration and taunt, a hunter acknowledging the prey's fleeting attempt at escape while relishing in its ultimate capture. There's a cruel satisfaction in the way he leans closer, his breath a ghost against your skin, warm and chilling all at once.

He relishes in your fear, in the way your pulse hammers beneath the thin barrier of skin, the way your breath stutters in your chest. It's a game to him, one he plays with expert precision.

You can see the madness in his eyes, a glint of something untamed and wild that speaks of a man who thrives on chaos and control, who lives for the thrill of the hunt and the inevitable conclusion it brings. And in that moment, you understand with terrifying clarity that you are at the mercy of a predator who knows no bounds, who revels in the dance of fear and power, and who will not be satisfied until he has claimed his prize.

His knife trails down, down, following the bead of blood as it trickles down the hollow of your throat.

“Pretty, precious little thing,” he coos into your ear, the fabric of his hood tickling against the sensitive skin of your tear-stained cheeks. His knife tinks as it hits your top button. “I will have much fun ruining you.”

You squeak when the sound of your button skating across the floor echoes. Followed by the next, then the next, then the next, until your soft belly is exposed to the beast and its hungry maw.

#call of duty #x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #reader insert #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #bzwrites #cod konig #call of duty x reader #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x you #knifeplay #knife k!nk #tw knife

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helloescapist · 1 year ago

Text

The Hashiras in a Relationship | Obanai Iguro

Word Count: 8077

A/N: phew, not my favortism showing at all. Oops.

Setting: Obanai Iguro x gn!reader [we do have mentions of Obanai's gynophobia]

Content Warning(s): none, I sort of behaved. We do have spoilers though! Be ware!

Summary: sweet, fluffy love relationship cannons for Obanai Iguro from attraction to love.

To be loved by the Serpent Hashira is to know dependability. It’s the touch of night, serene and quiet in the late hours. Soothing as the shy moon that lingers in your heart. A star-crossed lover, never destined to touch upon the face of its lover the sun. Rare moments to embrace rare and few between, meaningful bursts that light up the sky. No, it is the reliability of the luminescent glow cast upon a stone path, a guide in the dead of night as he faithfully chases after his lover’s warmth. Loyal, and always one step behind, but never straying, always within grasp. Fingers lightly brushed, a gentle lover who will always show you compassion nurtured in the shadows. Cultivated in the light of the late hours, gentle as the whispers of support and affections laced on his tongue. The tender gaze upon your silhouette far to entranced in the glow of the night to notice the way his heterochromatic eyes are captivated by you. Enchanted by your grin, bewitched by your giggles. Dazzled by the twirl of your sway, the jovial sway of your hips as you spin beneath the stars. Quick to ensnare you within his grasp when you stumble on the stone path, secure to his side. The glow of his mixed matched eyes the entrance to other worlds, galaxies concealed by the vast contour of space. Tremble of delicate, beautiful eyes afraid of the emotions that lay dormant beneath his averted gaze. Revealed to you, and you alone, just as his love.

To be loved by Obanai is to accept that you will need to embrace patience. To be tolerant of his needs, and adapt as they come. Like the moon, the Serpent Hashira has many faces he adorns, and only those who dare to gaze upon his shadows are gifted with the beauty of his reveal.

Savor the quite moments, knowing that your love needs no noise to fill the silence. Breathe in the comforting notes of eucalyptus when he dares to draw closer. An eternal dance, rhythms of heart in sync. Never daring to draw attention to the graze of his shoulders against your own.

Obanai has quite the reputation amongst the corps for being a cold, and distant individual. his demands for Uzui not to retire do not help this rumor. Quick to dismiss those beneath him, and isolate himself from his peers. It’s in his nature, and his upbringing, but beneath this mask he bears, is a surprisingly compassionate man.

One who has survived the horrors of the world, and looks to a new future. A dedicated man who will do everything in his power to protect those he cares about. This lends itself to his closer relationships, as despite how it may appear, Obanai is willing to put in the effort to maintain relationships. from guidance by Uzui to tea time with Kyojuro.

To those he deems worthy of his respect, Obanai is willing to expend his social battery to grow stronger bonds. It’s easy to mistake his steadfast loyalty to the Demon Slayer Corps and regulations as rigid, and unforgiving, because In a lot of aspects. It is.

He cannot trust nor accept anyone who has strayed from the code. He will live and die by the rules, and does not understand those who stand by these convictions. Obanai is abnormally loyal, and expects the same return. He is fairly narrow-minded and one tracked when it comes to his convictions, and the code.

His loyalty extends to all aspects of his life, from his inner network of coworkers, to his respect to the Ubuyashiki clan, to you as his lover. He is no stranger to hard work, nor is he one to falter when obstacles come between you. Rather, you will find that Obanai will meet challenges fairly head on to secure the bond between you.

That being said, Obanai can be fairly pragmatic in his approach, and because of this, you will rarely see slips of emotion through his porcelain surface. He remains sensible regardless of what troubles may come, and it certainly has it’s advantages.

He is a reliable lover, and will always remain by your side. Even when he needs his own space. he’s never far from you. Like a shadow. Because of how dedicated Obanai is to the success of the relationship, he is actually a fairly good listener, and enjoys listening to you ramble on and on about whatever it is you wish to discuss.

You may often find yourself carrying a majority of the conversation, and may worry that you are boring him. you are not. Other times, you may truly fret on whether you have left the Serpent Hashira enough room to join the conversation. he’s so quite that you may feel like one of those jerks that never allows others time to add to the discussion. You’re not, and he’s genuinely enjoying hearing your voice.

Finds comfort in your enthusiasm, and basks in your warmth. like a snake blossomed across a rock under the sun’s rays. That being said, he is fairly pragmatic, and if you’ve approached him with a problem even if you do not wish for it to be solved, he’s solving it. as quickly as he can, Obanai cannot stand the idea of you having difficulties even if it’s necessary for your development. also, he just genuinely hates emotional conversations.

He is not up for gossip of any kind.

The Serpent Pillar is by nature, fairly traditional in a sense. On the one hand, he keeps fairly traditional ideals--- such as the reminiscent of the samurai code towards their lords reflected in the way that Iguro regards Ubuyashiki which is just a shame as Ubuyashiki would never wish for any of the members to choose death over life.

Yet, despite being fully aware of how the Master mourns those who have been lost, the swordsman will not be swayed from his ideals. On the other hand, he has a tendency to be a bit unconventional.

He is aware that societal expectations require a fair amount of social interactions, and is willing to play along when it comes to the demands of his position. however while he is steadfast in his responsibilities, he will not maintain a bedside manner.

He has shown up for duty, and takes his tasks seriously, but that does not mean for one he will play nice. such as in the case of training Tanjiro and the other mizunoto in swordsmanship.

like Muichiro, his favoritism and respects are not subtle. You will always know where you, and those around you fall with him. He’s to the point, and direct about it.

No really, he will not hesitate to praise you in front of everyone, before offering the most horrific finger jab and insult at your training partner. things with your peers/coworkers will be tense.

But truthfully, I feel like this is in a sense a small part of his kindness. Yes, he savored the moment to express openly his distain for others, but at the same time, I feel like Obanai takes training others very seriously. He takes slaying demons, and the upcoming generation very seriously and gods he has little hopes for any of them.

But it’s because of this that Obanai’s punishments are… creative. The truth is that should they make the very mistake of bearing weakness to a demon as they had to their own instructor, the opponent will not hesitate to claim their life, or worse. Obanai was raised in cage, he knows there are fates far worse than death..

In orchestrating a punishment that they will never forget; he’s ensuring that they will not make the same mistake twice. they will not die due to shoddy instruction. It’s the overanalytical aspect that meets his strive for perfectionism head on that can make him unforgiving a teacher, and a leader.

He is an inherently observant individual, and it is because of this that he can see every faulter in your swordplay, any shift of weight that could lead to you being easily knocked off your feet, and disarmed. Which is what leads him to drilling into you and those around him to ensure that such gaps are erased from your movements. he does not wish to see any of you die.

Iguro is a stable individual. He’s consistent in his habits and his mannerisms. You may be surprised to know that he is consistent in his behaviors, and for the most part, not easily knocked off kilter. He’s secure in his personality, and balanced. He is not easily disturbed, nor is he easily upset.

Because of this, you will find that Obanai can be fairly forgiving of his partner. Just as patient with you as you have expressed towards him. You will not find him easily agitated by small miscommunications between the two of you, he is aware that he is not always the easiest person to comprehend.

He would much rather dedicate his energy to straightening up the misunderstanding, and ensuring that this same blunder will not happen again, and is by all means true to those he deems worthy. In fact, he’s almost rigid in the way that he conducts himself. While others such as Muichiro and Mitsuri have the ability to accept bygones, Obanai is unyielding.

Unable to accept infringements in ideals, and inflexible to come to a compromise. ironic given his breathing technique.

As you may expect, Obanai adores a partner who has their own desires in life and is amazed at ones who can express their dreams. Someone who has adorned sunshine in their hearts, and continues to pursue their goals will bring so much sunshine to his otherwise bleak existence. Which is necessary as Iguro really does struggle to release control from his finger tips, and a lover who is able to relinquish control will leave him breathless. desiring to join your side at the cost of his own comfort.

Just as the Serpent Hashira has high expectations of his students, Obanai can be just as unforgiving in his ideals for a partner. He knows exactly what it is that he is looking for in a companion, and will not bend to a partner that does not meet his standards. He is not making exceptions regardless of what beauty nor skills you present.

If you are not up to his caliber, then your capabilities have no merit with him. Iguro eally won’t hesitate to turn anyone down. I dare say he would reject Kichijoten, the goddess of beauty and happiness if he deemed her far to flirtatious.

Obanai needs an open and honest partner. One that does not hesitate to express any thoughts or doubts that cross their mind. Whether it’s fretting over their own capabilities with the sword, or in preparing dinner, or if that they have become concerned about the state of the relationship, Obani does best with someone who will be willing to allow themselves to be vulnerable with him. ironic as he will not be forth coming with his own insecurities.

However, it may be because of the innocence of his partner, that he is able to place more trust in you. He cannot pursue a bond that he does not feel secure in, nor a partner who he does not deem reliable.

He needs a light-hearted partner more than anything, someone who will embrace him and all of his faults. Catch his fingers between their own, and tug them along, eager to show him the bunny burrow they discovered during their morning chores. Someone who would eagerly rush home from the shopping, eager to show a cute little snake motif dango that the vender had sold as a limited edition.

The way your eyes beamed up at him despite your obvious state of undress, leaves caught in your hair snagged on a lower branch in your rush. He feels embarrassed for you but gods above you’re adorable.

As someone who he can put his faith and trust in, Obanai needs a companion who will keep his word. He wants someone who will always keep their word, regardless of the prickle bushes they may go through, or do anything within their power to keep their oath.

The day that you spread through demons to be at his side despite the obvious danger, uniform torn into in various places, and lacerations that littered your body. You swore you would be at his side. and you were.

Even small oaths, things such as keeping your word to complete a household task. To make his favorite meal, or hang his laundering for him when he’s pulled away from duty. They all mean so much to him, and he needs to be able to trust that you will always deliver. Because the gods above know that he will. Heaven nor the seven hells could prevent him from keeping his promise.

Really, dependability is non-negotiable in his book. He will accept an outgoing lover one who will shout his name over the crowds, heedless of the way passerbys look at your crazed state he’s blushing at how wildly you wave your arms eager to be seen, and he will adore a shyer partner, one that stumbles to meet his gaze.

But under no circumstances, will he ever accept a partner who he cannot depend on. He needs to know that you will stick with him through thick and thin because to be honest, Obanai is aware that difficult to deal with.

I strongly believe that the Serpent Hashira wants someone playful. He spent his entire childhood robbed of all opportunities to engage in play, and I believe that a partner who is high-spirited. Someone who from time to time can be mischievous. Toss the laundering over his head, seizing his momentary confusion to wrap him in the blanket, snug over his shoulders. Only released if he pays a kiss toll.

Someone who is perky, inviting, and warm. The day that a ball wandered into your yard, plucked between your fingers. A smile that met your face upon nervous small children peeked over the fencing before challenging them to a game. Quick to draw him into the mischief even though the little kids were rightful uneasy. how gentle you were to teach him the rules embraced his inner child.

It will be necessary that you are patient, because the reality is that a relationship with the Serpent Hashira means navigating hidden waters. A partner who cannot read between the lines will not do well with him, you’ll both become frustrated with the pairing.

Not that he won’t be patient for the beginning of the relationship, but as time goes on, if you have not mastered the underlining context, he will take it very personally. Snippy in his remarks as well, and it’s likely only a matter of time before things head down hill quickly, he just does not have the ability to engage in an emotional warfare repeatedly.

Obanai also approaches things rather head on, so if you are truly not taking his words at face value, well, this just isn’t going to work, and he’s not wasting his time.

Because of how private and elusive Obanai’s tendencies often are, alongside his gynophobia complicating interactions gendered partners, there are two scenarios I can imagine him becoming acquainted with his partner.

Let’s be honest, in general, Obanai requires a good bit of time to grow attached to someone, and due to his dysphoria with the female gender will lend itself to a lot of obstacles for individuals with she/her as their pronouns. Where as he/him, and they/them will have a significantly easier time of becoming acquainted with him.

The first and foremost would likely be a slightly older recruit who’s position is similar to that of Aoi’s (capable of swordsplay, but primarily cares for tasks) that has been entrusted with teaching the basics of the world to Obanai upon his rescue by the former Flame Hashira, Shinjuro. The decision being a combination of Shinjuro’s inability to properly engage with a child we’ve all seen him and the Ubuyashiki both observing Obanai’s desperate need for companion and proper socialization with a peer. The wedded duo knowing exactly who to assign to his well-being. Let’s be clear, the initial meeting did not go well. The mixture of trauma and anxiety and is that a snake?, contact was similar to that of approaching a soaked stray cat who wanted nothing to do with you. Quick to hiss and furrow, snip at you, and obscured profanities, but as time and dedication went on, your loyalty to the task that the Master had set on your shoulders spurring you forward. One day scooted to your side upon hearing a fairytale between gentle lips. Reading from a text you had borrowed from the Lady Amane, whispered tales to the garden, well aware that the young boy had once again taken to the trees. Slowly, but surely scooted closer and closer before peeking over your shoulder at the water paintings across the pages. In time, you would teach him so many things, an older sibling figure intended to guide him. until you weren’t to him.

The other scenario would be a recruit the same age, or just a little younger that through a turn of events has found themselves under the care of the Demon Slayer Corps, just as he had. Muddled by your own circumstances, and yet, despite all you had been through. Your smile had not faded, nor did you hesitate to reach out your hand to him. Eager to drag him to the gardens. Try to convince him to play even when he refused. Dedicated in your training regardless of how the both of you had been put through the ringer a number of times. Your optimism never betraying you, nor leaving his side. Joyful and caring, determined to stick through your hardships through thick and thin.

Although of course as we have seen with Mitsuri, Obanai could also be a completely ordinary girl. Sunny, and sweet, and blissfully aware of the way of the world, who is far too excited and preoccupied at the opportunity to become a tutor in etiquette to the young Ubuyashiki siblings. Completely innocent as they are naïve. It was the smile that claimed his heart.

The truth is that Obanai needs a little excitement in his life, and someone who would seize every opportunity to enjoy moments together. Someone who is playful, but just as content to snuggle in to his hold on a gentle spring morning. He needs a partner who takes their duties quite seriously, and stoically faces obstacles, but just as goofy and silly as they sew a small, matching haori for Kaburamaru. Kaburamaru needs a haori to match Obanai. Change my mind.

Really, he just favors a lover who is in tune with their own needs and desires. You want to eat a pound of dango, run through the rain, dance beneath fireworks, or sing silly song with the neighborhood children, he’s adoring you from a far. that tree. He’s in that tree. It is perhaps your jovial approach to life that puts his heart at ease.

Dishonesty has no place in his relationship. The Serpent Hashira would rather be met with blunt honesty than a sugared lie. Iguro would much rather face a difficult obstacle, harsh realities about pasts, and mistakes, rather than be diluted in a fantasy. He loves you, not a lie. It is also to consider how his familial background impacts his rigid approach to integrity and honest if you ever become frustrated at how unforgiving he can be when met with a fib. he is not a tool.

You will also find that surprisingly Obanai does not have room for aggression in his heart. While he can be biting with others, the reality is that he does not have a firm bone in his body. and you will discover how terrifying he can be towards anyone who dares show you belligerence. The reality is the same gentle nature he gives you; he expects in return.

He will not accept a partner who is aggressive or hostile to him. There are just so many ways to communicate and address stressors in your relationship, that there is just no excuse for belligerent behavior towards your partner. You are each other’s safe space—no one feels safe with a biting partner. He doesn’t want that. he’s had more than enough of that in his lifetime.

Regardless of how life has gone, Obanai is a believer that you should do everything within your power to make moves for the better. Just as he is determined to purify his blood from the curses of familial lineage, and Uzui is to make a difference in the world, the Serpent Pillar has zero tolerance for someone remains a victim to circumstance.

Let’s be clear, it’s not that he does not sympathize with someone who has been drowned to the depths of despair. he will be more than comforting to your pain. However, you cannot remain there. Life cannot stop moving. You have to keep moving. even if he’s dragging you.

The Serpent Pillar has a few tendencies in the pre-relationship to Shinobu than others may expect. Just like the Insect Hashira, Iguro will spend quite a long time in this stage of the developing relationship than most people. I suspect, out of all the Hashira, he remains here the longest. It is the period in which he is interested it, but doubtful.

Actively trying to find fault in your existence to prove that the way his heart flutters when he sees you is absolutely meaningless—he’ll stay here even longer than Kocho. He is observing. Everything. I mean everything.

Iguro is analytical, and spends more time than he will ever admit disecting every single interaction. Skewering the evidence to prove that you are not what you seem to be. He really is noting every single interaction—not limited to himself. How low did you bow to Ubuyashiki? Were you considerate of Lady Amane, and did you show proper appreciation to Aoi for nurturing your wounds? How you regard the kakushi. Obanai would dump you if you were rude to a waitress. I just know it.

The serpent breather takes respect very serious, as well as boundaries. He is quick to respect any boundaries you set between the two of you, and is not the type to push for more than what you wish to offer.

That being said, he very much expects the same in return. Do not touch him. Do not dare force physical interactions, or desires on him. It’s not that Iguro does not have them—he just isn’t the type to act on them early in a relationship.

He prefers to get to know someone very well before jumping into a relationship, let alone physical affections. this man may like snakes, but he’s a turtle. For obvious reasons, it will take some time for Obanai to show vulnerability, even if he really is fond of you.

He’s not quick to allow intimate gestures, or allow his bandages to slip from his lips, but it shows the depth of his passions for you when they come unwound. but that’s a slight nsfw thought

In courting, it’s important to note that Obanai values sincerity, and as such, you can expect any manipulation or mind game tactics will not be met with the reaction you want.

Ploys to lure another person into your bed with the intent of making him jealous? Yeah, that’s super ineffective. In fact, I would say any prior attraction is canceled, and he will take extra care to either avoid you in public, or openly express his disgust with you. lethal.

Any situation that Iguro has been put in to intentionally foster distrust with you is indicative that you are not the person he thought you were.

As rigid as he is, and how limited his communication skills can be at times. You’d be surprised that Iguro does enjoy discussions. However, it’s nothing mundane. He’s not interested in idle gossip, nor is he intrigued by the happenings of town or even the inner ranks. He finds these discussions absolutely boring.

However, if you gravitate towards intellectual topics, you’ll find him quick to engage. To ask you questions, to delve deeper into your interest. Have an odd interest in ancient cultures, he is all ears. Fascinated by the early mechanics of the era such as the steam engine, Iguro will listen to you recount ever detail that you can. he’ll bring home books if he comes across them.

The Serpent Hashira has his own unique interests, and can be draw to the most obscured of arts such as his interest in candy crafting. he doesn’t even have a sweet tooth; the technique just leaves him awestruck.

Because of this, Iguro enjoys listening to any interest or study you have found yourself immersed in. Actually, if you have a book or series, you have been invested in lately, try to lure him into the plot. He enjoys reading in his free time. he’ll leave little pieces of poetry for you to find.

Honestly, by the point flirting comes into play, Obanai has already concluded that the relationship is not worth pursuing, and because of this, you can expect that his ability to be coy is not practiced.

Despite how much of a natural perfectionist the swordsman is, he is more than aware that his ability to court is not his strong suit. Never expect a big grand gesture, such as declaration in the middle of the village, or for him to intercept a wedding to spirit you away. It’s just not in his nature. The more well practiced flirting techniques such as bouquets, and proclamations of desire, yeah, they all seem forced. Uncomfortable and unnatural, as though he is wearing someone else’s skin. He has no desire to come off as insincere, especially in winning your heart.

If anything, it is his desire to always be straightforward with you that leads him to relying on more subtle attempts. Such as the way he naturally gravitates towards you, or the gentle way he regards your name. It’s his indirect approach that may take you a while to realize that he’s interested. but you should catch on fairly quick given how he treats others.

So pay close attention, the proof is in his behaviors.

Because truthfully, while Obanai is observant to a fault, his ability to read other’ people’s reactions and emotions. Suck. He finds the entire process confusing, overhwelming, and downright uncomfortable.

Obanai will rely on the fact that he even tolerates your present as an indicator which is… stiff at best. But when you consider how little Iguro is willing to engage in social interactions, there is certainly a reason why he’s inquiring about your duties. he’ll take a few of them off your hands.

More so, he really wants to get to know you, all of you. He has an incredible memory, and will retain any information you delve. Whether it’s a distant memory of assisting your parent in the kitchen, chasing after lanterns with siblings, or even the way you found yourself peeking over the fence at neighbors in childhood mischief, Obanai will remember all of it.

He will also seize upon any opportunity to prove that he has been listening, and assist you in any way he can. You might’ve mentioned a loose roof tile in your home, he wouldn’t hesitate to spend his free time securing it properly. Shared a memory of how you remember that your grandmother would always secure her sleeves before setting to work with a yellow ribbon, he’ll pick you up one when he’s in town.

Whether he realizes it or not, Obanai savors any opportunity to prove what a reliable partner he would make. Unsure how to express himself, or his intentions, less confidant in how to approach matters of the heart. but now you know why Kaburamura has been snipping at him lately.

Confessions will be slow, and take so much time and stamina. you’re amazing for hanging in there. As time draws on, and you’re becoming more and more clear that he’s attached to you, I feel like Obanai can either respond rather well to you confessing your feelings or poorly.

Really, it’s the days to come that will determine whether or not he will accept and return your feelings. IF you have made the decision to confess first no one blames you, as long as your heart is true and patient, willing to accept that he may not return these feelings, and wishing to remain as you are.

Understanding that he may need time to process, to approach how his stomach has flipped and Kaburamura nipped him. Give him time or months, Obanai will return your affections in his own time. However, if you cannot respect his autonomy, you will discover that he will recoil from your touch.

Further prodding will give him the impression that he has been lured into a corner, and left with no escape, he will outright reject you, and flee. he’s not looking back.

However, if Obanai has worked up the nerve to confess first, it would be in the sweetest of regards. Gentle, and self-assured. Tender as he expresses exactly why he is drawn to you, but kind in the way he allows you space.

The Serpent Hashira has no desires to entrap you. you are not a mouse.

Rather, he wants you to feel safe, to know that if you should turn him down, there will be no repercussions. Nor will his feelings falter. Rather, he will simply love you as he always has. from afar.

He is content to allow you all of the time you need to determine whether you wish to pursue a relationship with him, or not.

To have made it into dating is an accomplish no others have accomplished, and can expect that dates are viewed as a practical sense of time. Well intended with the opportunity to get to know you.

Obanai really views this as the perfect chance to get to know you on an intimate level rather than from a distance, or through the lens of a friend. Dates for the most part will default to fairly traditional routes. Walks through the garden, perhaps dinner, or a small picnic.

Iguro is not one to enjoy extravagance, whether in his personal belongings, or appearances certainly not his food, and because of this, dates that are simple are preferred.

Although he does appreciate when his partner takes the time to plan out thoughtful dates for bonding, so long as it’s not formal, he’s happy to go along with whatever it is you would like to do. Humble dates, such as flower viewing, or even hiking will always be a win in his book.

Even more so, games whether board games, or even childhood back and forth of hide and seek or onii will be well received. Obanai is even the type to enjoy curling up together, reading poetry. as time goes on, and he’s tired from his duties, you may even coddle his head in your lap. Is definitely the type to enjoy cooking together as a couple.

It should come as absolutely no surprise that Obanai has no appetite for a casual relationship. He avoids them like the plague. Short-term flings are just unappealing. The idea of something fleeting that would pray upon his security and vulnerabilities, just makes his skin crawl.

Nope, this isn’t happening, and if it does, it was an extremely rare encounter. buy a lottery ticket.

Once Iguro allows himself to admit that he has fallen in love, he will be quick to give himself to you. All of you. It’s true, he will still have a deep seeded need for alone time rather frequently, and it’s important to respect this need.

It’s not a desire, it is the difference between a mentally well man, or depraved individual. Rest assured, the distance only deepens your bond, and secures his attachment to you, alone. absent makes the heart grow fonder in this case. he’s not straying, really when he says he needs time in solitude, it’s a genuine trek up the mountains to camp alone for a couple of nights.

To connect back with the severed pieces of himself. Not to sneak off for a booty call. he’s really not the type.

Actually, if Iguro ever feels himself detached from you to the point that he considers an affair, he’s just leaving you all together. It’s harsh but, well…

Although expressing his affections does not come naturally to him, do not believe for one moment that he does not value you. He worships you. It’s rather that the Serpent Hashira is better suited to logical ends, and practical applications. The aspects of the relationship that lends itself to it, such as paying bills, picking up groceries, making dinner, ensuring you are well cared for when you’re sick, this is when you will find that your partner is a quite compassionate.

Quick to tend to your needs, and eager to care for you. However, when it comes to outwardly expressing how his eyes will always find you in the room—he’s a mess. There’s no way to quite explain it, it’s just that the words cannot be strung together.

As Iguro desperately grasps for them, they slip through his fingertips, evading his touch, and leaving him frustrated and muddled. Desperate to express his devotion, but unable to verbalize the depths of his love.

No, Iguro is the type to focus on the aspects of the relationship he can thrive under. The ability to improve your life with his presence, to make your life easier. Sharpening your blade for you, scooting all of your belongings to the lower shelf within reach, he is always looking for the opportunity to express his affections. just not verbally.

Really, it doesn’t take much to make him happy—he really just loves the opportunity to incline into your touch, rest upon your lap, occasionally reaching up to thread his fingers through your hair. Small tender moments mean everything to him.

Know that after his time away, Obanai will come back happier and more devoted to you. Far more engaged, and in tuned with your needs than when he left. he needs to learn self care. Period.

But understand that this goes deeper than you may expect. His upbringing was not an easy one, and because of the way he was raised, it’s naturally that he often prefers his own company than that of others.

This doesn’t mean that he does not need or want intimacy, it just means that he needs you to appreciate your time together as much as your time apart.

He really is quick to prove his affections in ways that he feels comfortable. Hanging laundry, sweeping the home, really and truly, what you see is what you get with Iguro, and then some. he’s sneaking poems into your luggage for when he parts for the mountains.

In a sweet way, as time goes on, you will find that Obanai becomes more and more genuine with you. Straightforward and honest. Really and truly, if you prove yourself a loyal partner, you can expect more and then some in return. He wants a relationship that is built upon trust, and a foundation of mutual respect.

One in which you are dedicated to each other regardless of the hardships or distances you will face. because he will always part for duty. Obanai is one of the most loyal romantic partners amongst the Hashiras.

If you are able to open up, and actually express your emotions fairly openly the way he adores, you should know that he envies it. he thinks your amazing

Although he may struggle to cope with an relationship that vocalizes emotions so much. The attention to what has not been said, overlooking what he has done for you, it will do great damage to the relationship and his confidence.

In fact, I believe that if push comes to shove, Iguro will struggle to survive a relationship with an overly emotional partner. He needs you to appreciate him for him, just as he appreciates you for you. The truth is, Obanai can often feel overwhelmed by intense feelings. Someone who always leaves him guessing will only erode his mental capacity.

He is by nature prone to reading into things more than he should, and if he has found that this is the only way to survive his relationship, he will take apart everything. it’s never good.

He has a way of being weighed down by the little details in general, and is quick to lose sight of the big picture amongst the evidence. He will drown in the depths of his anxiety and pessimism. It’s best to avoid this entirely.

Because of this, Obanai really needs a partner who will answer him point blank. Don’t worry about hurting his feelings, or that you are being blunt. He really prefers it. It gives him comfort and security that he is meeting your needs as you need them.

It’s really the key to a happy Iguro relationship. It will provide him with all of the confidence and security he needs in the relationship, and you will come to find that under this trust, iguro is a rather passionate and attentive partner. Quick to rub your shoulders in public if you have expressed that they are sore, shifting the load of groceries from your fingers onto his own burdens, the press of his lips quick to seek yours out when the opporunity presents itself. he’s touch starved, I just know it.

A stickler for traditions, will always approach them in the way they have always been done. Whether it’s noodles upon the new year, or mochi towered during the mid-autumn festival, Iguro is vigilant in securing the traditions and carrying them with him.

In fact, he may be quite stiff to follow any additions you may have to offer. imagine him standing on ends if you decide to bring him home for the holidays. Poor boy would be panicked to be offered a plate at the table.

He does not know how to handle being the center of the attention. It’s not necessarily that he’s outright shy, but he is very reserved. Obanai prefers to stick to himself, and his own means, only allowing those close to him to linger on his skin.

As such, opportunities of flaunting him will make him uneasy. He doesn’t enjoy the open praise in public, and will shift from sight at the first opportunity. like asnake drawing away from humans.

As Obanai is fond of more simple abodes and pass times, you’ll enjoy how low maintenance he actually is. He is content to give you your space, and time alone just as you give him. He will not fuss about you spending time with your friends, or departing to care for your sick mother in another providence. he’ll just miss you, but he’ll be waiting for your return.

Commitment is at the forefront of Obanai’s thoughts when he dives into a relationship. He wants an old timey romance, one in which there is only you and him. No others, and in which there is no drama, nor is there jealousy, or strays from each other’s embrace.

Iguro desperately wants someone to be vulnerable with, and he does not take commitment lightly. Rather, it’s of such significant importance to him. such as the way he dared to reveal his facial scars to you near shattered his heart.

If you have not figured it out already, communication with Iguro sucks. I mean, it just, sucks. You will have a better time communicating with Kaguramura if you rely on emotional discussions to cultivate a relationship. I just imagine that the little noodle helps the best he can.

However, for Iguro, he doesn’t have a fondness for words, placing a strict importance on actions. There will be no fluff, nor bedside manners when it comes to more serious matters. although his compliments are genuine. really, he just prefers to allow you to carry the majority of the conversation.

That being said, he is not one to leave room for misunderstandings to foster between you. He’d rather press into the topic firm and straightforward than allow you to believe for one moment he would ever betray you. As such, Obanai is not compromising. In fact, you will find that to a majority of disputes, he is not willing to yield. Nor admit fault.

Confrontation in a relationship has a way of capitalizing on his weaknesses in communication, and as such, he fumbles and often feels strangled by his own thoughts as he struggles to piece them into a cohesive sentence. Will be ridiculously tight. Rigid as though he is presenting a case to a jury.

Truthfully, most fights and discussions can be navigated fairly easily as long as you are willing to speak literally no metaphors please!, and keep the discussion short. It really will go quite a long way in ensuring you are on the same page. Even better is that it allows Iguro to apply his need to fix it skills in a way that benefits the both of you.

The Serpent Hashira has a tendency to take slights or criticisms fairly hard. an attribution as to why he does not like Giyuu, and as such, it’s important to note that Iguro is rather sensitive to outside forces impending into your relationship. He naturally views any spectators with immediate suspicion, and for the most part, he is able to logically sort it out.

Remind himself that you have never given him cause to doubt, but should his thoughts lead him astray, it’s likely something that he will internalize rather than discussion. He is protective though.

Fiercely so. While he may not be as possessive as one would expect. I mean, you expected it right? In reality, Obanai greatly respects your autonomy, and values your opinions and decision making skills. That is not to say that he will accept everyone you invite into your circle. you can get along with them; doesn’t mean he has to.

But his protective instinct is inherently high. He knows what lurks beneath the hearts of humans, and how fickle they can often be. If he suspects that your new friend may conceal hidden intentions, he will not hesitate to act. To shield you from the horrors of the world, of demons, and human flesh. He will without a moment’s notice, place himself between you and death.

It’s natural to consider if a family is in the future, and truthfully, I just see Obanai avoiding biological children to the greatest of his capabilities.

On one hand, it’s the fact that he was never given a parental figure, or treated in the way befitting of a child, and as such, Iguro is confident that he would not know what to do with a little bundle.

On the other hand, the Serpent Hashira is so disgusted by his on bloodline, desperate to scratch off his own flesh as a means of escape, that an intentional blood child is out of the cards. and trust me, he will work hard to prevent it.

Though should the fates intervene birth control of this era is fault, or if he has just picked up a child that clings to him during one of his missions. I believe that Iguro would not shirk his responsibilities.

Rather, I believe he’d make for a rather supportive and encouraging parent. Not the type to place high expectations and demands upon those in his care, but rather, just provide love and support and protection. I can even see the Serpent Hashira enjoying the little bundle in his arms with great trepidation.

Anxious at how little one can be, new to the world. Pure. Obanai would naturally gravitate towards diapering, potty training, and soothing the child at all hours of the night. Delicate to teach them games, and self-defense, cook them meals, and tend to boo-boos, but he will shy away from the emotional demands.

he’s giving you late nights, you can handle the tears.

As you have already been clued into, Obanai is a master at expressing love through more practical applications. Acts of services is his go to in order to prove his dedication to you, and he is not one to shy away from any opportunity to express his love physically.

You can expect that he is more than willing to take over the dinner duties upon noticing the exhaustion on your features. To rub your temples, when you have mentioned a headache. To draw a bath when you are fatigued, or dirty. In a surprising way, Obanai is a natural care taker. go figure.

Initially, if you have a preference for acts of physical intimacy to express affections, you will find yourself disappointed, and abandoned. He just isn’t comfortable with having his space invaded upon your initial match, or in public.

However, as time goes on, you will find that he is very willing to grasp your hand in a crowd he doesn’t want to lose you he claims, or allow his shoulder to brush against yours in a restaurant, to catch the strands of your hair, and fan you in the heat of summer. In a well-developed relationship between the two of you behind closed doors, you will find that he will more than make up for the absence of his touch.

Quick to wrap himself around you in an embrace, to claim you. You will have to beg him to release you. but do you really want to?

For fairly obvious reasons, if you have a preference for quality time, his affections may be hit or miss for you. On the one hand, he genuinely enjoys the chance to be around you.

Doing absolutely nothing if you so desire. Curled into one another, or reading books within fingers reach. Watch the leaves dance across the veranda, snuggled into a blanket with tea, but on the opposite end, Obanai needs his space.

He’s a frequent flyer of solitude, and as such, there will be times where you will struggle to balance your needs with his own. It can be a delicate balancing act that leaves you both frustrated.

Take it one day at a time, and savor the moments that he provides you. They’re genuine, and uninterrupted.

Words of Affirmation will also be a stumble, but not right ignored. While Iguro is not the type to express his love in a verbal paragraph, you will find that he is fairly forth coming with his compliments. his face is red as yours.

Yet he will drop compliments on you out of the moment, often leaving you blindsided and reeling from the heat of his gaze. They are far and few between, but they are honey laced truths that he dares to share with his resolve. the hint of all he leaves unsaid burning your insides.

Iguro is not a bad gift giver, however it’s best to limit your expectations. He is not the sort to bring home lavish perfumes. he hates the scent that dares to taint your odor. nor is the type to bring home outlandish accessories.

Too many embellishments obscuring your natural beauty, nor is the type to bring home a ridiculously large bouquet, but this doesn’t mean that Obanai will skip over the sentiment all together.

Rather, Iguro is a master of sweet gifts. Simple pleasures. A small sweet wrapped in a delicate cloth. A simple hair pin that captivated your beauty. Flowers he handpicked upon his journey home. A Small dragonfly pin that matched your eyes perfectly. His gifts will never obscure your natural beauty, each item selected with care.

The reality is to be loved by Iguro is to know a love that will transcend time. It will endure loss, and distance. Heartache, and torture, it will endure the tests that the world will throw at it, and the punishments of the night. It will lend itself to tender touches, and gentle gazes. It is patient as it is kind, never asking for more than you wish to give. Only going where it is you lead, through meadows, through forest, and mountains, to depths of the sea, it will follow you whereever it is you shall go. It is compassion through strife. It is delicate and as plush as the press of his lips. Fragile as his features revealed beneath the moonlight. Eyes that avert shyly before being lured back to your side. Docile as the way it leans upon your shoulders. It is simple as the touch of the waves upon the sand. Affectionate as the sky that shatters beneath day break. The reveal of a small smile that falters to age. The curl of his fingers through your hair, soothing ends as his mixed matched gemstones eyes, one of citrine, and the other of alexandrite gaze up with you revealing the depths of his devotion. The vulnerability of his cheek curled into your lap, a shoulder to bear your burdens such is that of his love.

If you will have him.

In this life.

And the next.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #obanai iguro #obanai iguro x reader #serpent hashira #thehashirasinarelationship

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ino-takumas-baggy-sweater · 11 months ago

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A Second Chance, A Father's Curse - Part 2 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

part 2!!!! I hope yall enjoy :) <3 much love

Part 1 here

Warnings: mentions of neglect/abuse, sukuna is a warning himself, he gets a little violent but doesn't hurt anyone on purpose, sukuna is somewhat out of character but i feel like i dont need to clarify that

Word count: 3.2k

The crowd is deafening, fit for a wedding of royal proportions, but they cannot know the turmoil that lies beneath the surface. Your face betrays nothing, you pretend to be in love for as long as you must, his hands guide you strongly towards the open carriage. There is nothing on your mind but questions, left unanswered in the face of the people. You itch to blurt every thought that crosses your mind but it is as if your tongue has forgotten how to speak.

The door shuts, your fate appears to be sealed, but you’ve saved Ryomen from… something. The dress was beautiful before, but now it feels too restrictive, you feel like a rabbit with its foot caught in a trap. Not to mention you’re almost suffocating under the weight of his cursed energy which is much more potent now that the pair of you are out of the castle. He hasn’t let his guard drop even now that the pair of you are finally alone on the open road, your parents in a carriage further ahead and Gojo sharing with the maids who came with you to allow you time with your new husband.

It feels strange to call him that when all you really know about him is his name, but you find yourself once again studying his face nervously, looking for anything to say. He looks up, his arms folded and his body slightly slouched against the red cushions, “What? Do I have something on my face?” He snaps. You shrink back slightly, shaking your head, “No… I just….” He huffs, averting his gaze out the window, “Spit it out,”

“What happened? Why are you so desperate to get out? Weren’t you second in line to the throne?” His eyes tell you that your question was both expected and unexpected and you mentally prepare to take it back, but he sighs, letting his hands drop to his knees. “Kaori Itadori is not my mother,” He murmurs, “But Jin Itadori is my father,” It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you launch to your feet with the revelation, catching yourself on the roof of the carriage.

“But… wouldn’t that also make Yuji…?” He shakes his head, “We’re not twins, I’m older by a few weeks, it’s a miracle we look so alike,” He growls, “Jin Itadori is one lucky bastard,” The carriage goes over an unforgiving bump and his hands dart to grab your waist and steady you, fingers buried in the swathes of white fabric, your chest heavy with the weight of the dress and his energy combined, “Careful there princess,” He murmurs, “Wouldn’t want you getting bruised on our wedding night,”

He’s so gentle with you as he places you on the seat beside him that you feel cruel when the next question spills from your lips, “Your cursed energy, is the king… afraid of it?” He pulls his hands away, leaning his elbows on his knees and messing with his hair. After a few moments of silence he shakes his head, “I have no idea,” He murmurs, “Probably, if even you think it would be enough of a threat,” You look away, thinking for a moment, “The castle has some sort of suppression technique cast over it, I could barely sense my personal guard even when he was standing right behind me,”

“You think he did it just to suppress me?” He scoffs, “He doesn’t care about me, or what happens to me,” “But he cares about his image,” You correct him, “Even with the suppression your energy was overflowing last night at the ball, all that negative energy would almost certainly reflect badly on him considering the fact you’ve spent almost your whole life in the castle,” He looks back to you, “Are you afraid of me?” You’re shocked that he would ask that, but then settle slightly as you realise that his question makes sense. You just asked him if an incredibly powerful man, a King, was afraid of his energy, and yet you yourself are seated next to him with a ring on your finger that binds you to him. “Should I be? You haven’t hurt me yet,” You let your head fall back against the plush wall behind you, tilting until you can look into his brown eyes.

“Is your name Jin Itadori?” He grins wolfishly, finally shrugging the heavy formal tunic off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. The white dress shirt left on his body makes him look younger, and you notice as he rolls his sleeves up that he doesn’t share any of the arm tattoos his half-brothers have and proudly show off. You touch your wrist for a moment as you take in his image, before he waves a hand in front of your face, “Any chance you’ve got some clothes stashed in here? As wonderful as you look in that dress I’d quite like you to be comfortable, I can hear you struggling to breathe,”

You blink, not expecting his sudden change in demeanour as he begins to relax, “I… hang on, I might,” You murmur, “Knowing Geto I’m sure he had something arranged…” You shift until you’re seated on the floor on your knees, lifting the seat you were sitting on before to reveal a compartment underneath. His arm comes up over you to hold it open and you smile gratefully as you dig through the clothing, finding a simple f/c gown that lacks a corset, perfect for long distance travel. You pull it out with a triumphant smile and he seems smug, “Need help getting undressed princess?” He teases.

Oh. Right. Stuck in a carriage, alone with your new husband. Your face flushes with embarrassment, it took four maids to get you into the dress, you know you’ll be forced to ask him to help you lest you make a fool of yourself or accidentally tear the dress. “Come on, don’t be shy now, I don’t bite,” He chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s not me that I’m worried about,” You roll your eyes, shutting the compartment and lifting yourself until you’re seated across from him again, “Geto is protective, and will not hesitate to defend me if something happens to me,”

“You think he could go up against me?” He smirks, folding his arms, “Please, nothing is going to happen,” “So prove it, you’re my husband now whether you like it or not, so be my husband,” You say firmly, trying to gain some ground on him, “We may see one another without clothes in the future, so why not start now?” He laughs, you don’t think you’ve heard him laugh before, and you find you want him to do it again. “You’re feisty, I like it,” He says, relaxing again and spreading his legs slightly and beckoning you, “Come here, I’ll see what I can do about everything down to that corset I know you’re wearing,”

You take his outstretched hands and stand between his legs, his hands then tracing over your hips as he turns you so you’re facing away, reaching for the line of clasps that lead from the top of the dress to your hips. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen as the dress comes loose, pooling at your feet, and then his hands trace up the boning of the corset that hugs your abdomen, gently untying the lace ribbons that hold it together. “You know, for a man known for his strength, you have the gentle touch of a musician,” You comment, angling your head to look back and down at him.

He looks up as the corset falls slightly to rest at your hips, “Well Princess, as I said before, we don’t want to bruise you on our wedding night, unless you’re begging for it,” He smirks again, pressing a kiss out of your line of sight to the small of your back between the loose edges of the corset. You resist the urge to shiver, his hands on your hips as he helps you step out of the dress, “That thing is going to piss me off if it can’t fit where the other dress came from,” He growls, pushing it with his foot before you can protest, “Where is this other dress?”

You quickly shimmy out of the corset, left in a loose white undershirt and petticoat, and pick up the new dress, stepping into it and pulling it up over your underwear. “I can always ask the maids to take it,” You say as his hands return to your back, delicately clasping up the back of the new dress, “Just don’t kick it around, I don’t want to damage it,”

“No need to be so precious, I didn’t realise you felt that strongly about it,” He mutters, “Now c’mon, tell me about my new home,” He spins you around before you can react, pulling you down so you’re sitting sideways in his lap, your arms shooting up around his neck. As you sit there too shocked to reply, he laughs and lets his hands rest on your hip, wrapped around your middle, “You’re so easy to fluster, have I caught your heart in my grasp already?”

“How are you so carefree right now?” You murmur, “Your whole life… and I’m the only person outside your brothers and parents who knows,” His face falls back to neutral and you can tell he’s angry, you know you’re a fool for poking, especially after the pleasant exchange you just shared, but you have to know, “Did you ever fight back?” He falls still, your fear is amplified by his lack of any kind of signal or cue.

He pushes you off him, “I couldn’t, what don’t you understand about that?” He growls as you catch yourself on the other seat, your hip sparking with pain as it catches the edge, “Jin Itadori is the King of one of the largest nations on the fucking continent, you don’t think I wanted to be free of him?! I rebelled my entire life against royal duties and parties and fucking teachers who thought they knew better than me,” His eyes are dark and his energy has returned full force, amplified by his rage, “Some of the best sorcerers on the continent told my father I was a lost cause and that he needed to kill me before I grew too strong, they thought I couldn’t hear them but I could hear everything,”

You dig your fingers into the cushions beneath you as he shouts, “Jin Itadori thought I was a worthless piece of shit shoved onto him by a woman he never even loved, and frankly I’m lucky he didn’t manage to kill me before I learned to defend myself because he sure fucking tried!” You don’t even realise the carriage has come to a halt until the door swings open and you’re wrenched out by a strong hand. You bury your face against the navy blue cloak you find yourself hidden behind. It’s Geto, clearly having sensed something was wrong, with a pair of four legged vaguely big-cat shaped curses flanking him as he puts himself between you and your volatile husband.

“Are you alright my lady?” He asks over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the carriage. You nod quietly, peering around him to see Ryomen who has his head in his hands, gripping his hair tightly. “Sir, Prince Ryomen,” Geto says quietly, “I need you to calm down, or I will have to put Princess Y/n in the carriage behind,” The man looks almost frantic when he looks up again, a thousand words trapped behind his eyes as he reaches a hand out only to realise Geto is between the two of you. He gets to his feet, his energy washing over the pair of you but not able to penetrate through Geto’s concentrated bubble of energy, “Give her to me,” He whispers.

Geto’s hand on your wrist tightens but you shift around him, “My lady, he is unstable-“ You look up at him, cutting off his words with just a look, “Thank you Geto, but I can handle it from here,” You say simply. “Of course your highness,” He murmurs, bowing his head slightly as you step back up into the carriage. Ryomen’s hands are on you within an instant, pulling you to him as he whispers a thousand apologies against your hair. You hear the door to the carriage shut and the call as Geto instructs the group to continue onwards, bringing your hands up to his hair and gently combing your fingers through the pink strands.

“I should not have pushed you, you have my sincerest apologies Ryomen,” You murmur, “I will not ask of your father’s mistreatment again,” You feel him shaking his head, his arms pulling you down until you’re once again seated beside one another as he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “My lady,” He murmurs, “It is not you who should apologise, your guard is right, I am an unstable man at best and a risk to your safety,” He opens his eyes, you spot a tint of red leeching inwards at the edges of his irises, “Is it selfish that I do not wish to be parted, despite the fact I may hurt you someday?”

“If anyone is selfish here it is me, you’re a risk I’m willing to take for the sake of my kingdom, you’re a strong man and I believe the good in you will outweigh your suffering,” You clutch his wrists, “Ryomen L/n, you have taken my last name, you are my family now,” You whisper, meeting his intense gaze, “You are free,” “You still fear me,” He murmurs, his gaze switching between your eyes, “How could you not?” “Prove me wrong then,” You shift your hands down his arms slightly, “Prove to me you will not hurt me, it doesn’t have to be right this second, but I have the utmost confidence in your integrity and your resilience,”

You feel his hands warm with cursed energy, the soreness in your hip where you collided with the seat dissipates almost immediately, a warm feeling flowing through you instead. “Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask, “That’s reverse cursed energy, isn’t it?” He nods, leaning into your space until his forehead is against yours, “One of the captains taught me how to use my energy,” He murmurs, “He didn’t teach me to directly reverse it though, his theory was that it would be the easiest way to dispel great quantities of it all at once. I used to use it to soothe my younger brothers when they were in pain,”

You sigh softly, shifting up on the bench until you can cradle his head to your chest, “I’m learning so much about you in such a small amount of time,” You murmur, brushing his hair back, “Are you okay?” He nestles further against you, “With you as an ally, I think I might be,” His voice is soft and vulnerable, you can only assume he hasn’t spoken this freely in years, if ever. The two of you remain in soft silence for the remainder of the trip. Too wired on the information you’ve taken in you find you cannot sleep where usually the soft lull of the carriage would put you to sleep like a baby.

You spend your time combing your fingers through his hair as he leans heavily against you, crowding you up against the side of the carriage but not uncomfortably. You let him lay practically on top of you, sleeping peacefully as your thoughts roam and your eyes watch the stars through the window. By the time the sun begins to rise again you can see the familiar stone walls of the Iqorian capital, Adenfast, the castle in the centre dominating the skyline but not overshadowing the city. A shadow passes over the window before you and Geto’s face comes into view, his hair and cloak hanging down as he looks into the carriage upside down.

You giggle softly as he tilts his head, squinting for a moment before nodding, “We’re almost there!” He says, his voice muffled through the glass. You nod in reply, Ryomen’s body shifting until he can hide from the strengthening light. You cast your gaze down to his pastel pink hair, tracing your fingers through the dark undercut as his breathing steadily grows. “Get off me brat,” He mutters, batting at your hands. You’re shocked, hands up slightly, but his mind seems to catch up a moment later as he opens his eyes and grabs your hands, “Wait, sorry, I thought you were Yuji for a second,”

He guides your hands back to his hair and relaxes again, “We’re almost in Adenfast, would you like to see?” He pushes himself up with his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning over you to look out the carriage window. “It’s brighter than Khoccadia,” He murmurs and you notice his eyes have returned to normal after his outburst the night before, “This… this feels like a home,” You’re eager to see him thrive, but you can also feel the fear still lingering from his father’s influence.

You know it will take time for him to adjust, and you know things will be rocky to start off with considering the circumstances of your marriage, “I hope it can be your home as much as it is mine,” You murmur, tracing your fingers down the side of his face closest to you. He grins, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “If I got to have things my way, my father would regret everything, and you could be by my side the entire time,” You smile softly, “Until such time, enjoy your freedom, you deserve it,”

His gaze traces down until it lands on your wrists, “Ah, when do we get the tattoos done?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow. “Ideally as soon as possible, before you officially appear to the public,” Geto says as he opens the carriage door and steps in. “Geto! Moving carriage? Have some sense of self-preservation!” You scold him as he sits across from the pair of you, the primary veil lowered around the city of Adenfast washing over you like the feeling of water.

“Just wanted to check on my lady,” He puts his hands up in surrender, “We’re approaching the castle grounds, they’ve been closed off for the time being until we get you two into the privacy of the castle itself,” You nod, “Thank you,” “Gojo wants to talk to you about your energy, Sir,” Geto nods to Ryomen, “Something about training you,” “I look forward to it, I have heard much about the Gojo clan’s runaway prodigy, I have a feeling he and I will get along nicely,”

The air is warm and the cheers of the people fill the air as the carriages ride through the streets. Knights on horseback block the windows from the public eye and Geto exits the carriage, returning to his place atop as you cross through the secondary veil, completely transparent aside from a few visible sparkles hanging in the air. “Home sweet home,” You whisper, your mind in blissful ignorance. As uncertain as your future may be, you know you will spend it by his side nurturing the part of him that lives for the joy of living, lives for his brothers, and maybe one day will live for you.

im brainrotting this series so hard right now, i swear i've written so much for it in the past couple of days, i feel bad neglecting my other wips lmaooo

Part 3 here!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Speak Not

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: here we go.

Please let me know what you think <3

🧁🧁🧁

Thor’s thunderous snores rumble from behind you. You sleep as you have every night since you unveiled his deception. Since you escaped your foolish shroud of naivety. Back to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, no matter how perilous it felt.

You don’t sleep, not much, and when you do doze, you wake as you nearly tip onto the floor. His rolling rhythm assures you of safety, if he’s not awake, he can’t hurt anyone. Or you.

Carefully, you sit up. It’s been the best day you’ve had in a while, getting to see Darling, helping her in the kitchen, hanging out and forgetting that constant tide of dread. Now it’s back to the usual. The dark nights made more ominous in his presence.

You keep your hands on the mattress as you lift yourself off it, trying to limit the jostle as you stand. You drag yourself away completely and peer around into the shadows. You know you can’t go far, not even beyond these walls. Yet you need sleep and you won’t get that next to him.

You go to the settee, with its curled feet and embroidered cushion, and ball yourself up with a tasseled pillow under your head. You hug yourself and nestle in close to the hardback, let your eyes close and your muscles drain of tension. Just a few hours and you’ll sneak back to the bed.

Your vow to maintain the order is the last thought you have. Fatigue grips you and pulls you down deep, into that swirling, irresistible depth of sleep where even your thoughts are obscured. It is only your body and its hunger for rest, finally sated and drowning in the glut.

🧁

You snort yourself awake. You’re on your back, one arm splayed over the edge of the settee as the other is curled above your head. Your lashes snap open as you come too, senses slapping you across the face.

The smell of the early morning chill nipping at the windows and crawling into the air, raising bumps along your skin. The noise of winds rattling panes and whistling through unseen cracks. And the frightening sight of the beast before you, puffing down at you as he glares above crossed arms.

Your limbs are heavy as you plant your hands down and push yourself up to sit. You turn on the cushion and look up at Thor as he issues a disappointed sigh. You see his anger brewing in his pale blue irises, along with a trickle of concern.

“Am I so repulsive to you? My own wife?” He growls as your eyes wander down to his bulging muscles and the strength flowing through his pulsing veins.

You shrug and dip your chin down. No matter how you hate him, he scares you, and you are as helpless as you ever were. Before him and after him.

“Pet,” he shifts and gets to his knees with a grunt, placing his hands lightly on your knees, “please, I cannot bear it any longer. The silence…”

You avert your gaze and stare at the wall. A pattern of moon and stars printed upon the paper. You focus on that instead.

“I am your king, your husband, you will speak to me,” he squeezes above your knees and you flinch. You put your hands on his and try to shove them off only for him to tangle his fingers in yours. “I command you.”

You bat your lashes as your eyes glisten. You tug at his grasp but cannot escape. Just as you cannot free yourself from his power.

“Please,” he raises your hands and kisses your knuckles, electric tingles coursing from where his lips touch, “please, my pet, I only did what must be done. For you. For us.”

You scrunch up your face in a silent snarl and rip your hands away from his. You fold your arms against your chest and drop your eyes to the intricate embroidery of the arm rest. Another huff rises from his lungs.

“Wife!” He exclaims and grabs your chin, his large chin easily framing half your face as he makes you look at him. He squeezes until your eyes round with fear. Perhaps he will break you completely.

He retracts his hand and stretches his fingers wide. He looks at them, then back to you. He makes the signs you know, the ones you taught him. That secret you shared with him even as he held one from you.

You shake your head and shove his hands down. You don’t want to hear him. None of it. He has no right to speak to you.

He recoils as if you’ve hurt him. As if you ever could. As if you were any match to him. That is what pains you most, knowing how easy it was for him to deceive you.

He latches onto your wrists before you can drop your hands and he stands, forcing you up with him. You quiver and jut out your jaw as you stare him in the face. Defiant. Like those other girls. The ones who got away. You may be trapped but you won’t be the weak creature he thinks you are.

“I suppose,” he pulls your arms above you, trapping your wrists in a single hand, “that you needn’t speak much…” He reaches to the top of your nightshirt with his other hand, tracing the frill there before gripping it, “to be a wife and do your duty.”

He rents the fabric easily and you wince. You quake but do not look away. No, you will not turn a blind eye anymore. You will witness and remember his misdeeds so that you will never succumb to him again.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #thor x muffin #sweet treats #au #series #drabble #drabble series #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months ago

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In The Garden

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Lancel Lannister Couple - Lancel X Reader Reader - Y/n Baratheon (Daughter Of Stannis) Rating - 15 + Word Count - 1390

lancel walked the warm but dark corridors of the Red Keep, he had been summoned to the chamber of the hand of the king by his uncle Tywin Lannister. Lancel approached the door to the Hand of the King's office, his heart beating fast. He knocked once, loudly.

"Come." Tywin demanded from inside,

As Lancel opened the doors, he saw his uncle Tywin at his desk surrounded by papers, books and letters.

Lancel bowed respectfully, as he had countless times before. "My lord," he said, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "You sent for me?"

"Sit." He demanded without even looking up from his papers,

Lancel obeyed, taking a seat across from Tywin. He tried to maintain an air of composure, even as his mind raced with thoughts of what this meeting could be about.

for a few moments, there was silence but Tywin broke it still writing with his papers, "Lannisters have control, and dominion over almost every noble house in the realm, can you tell me why that is?"

Lancel shifted in his seat, thinking carefully before he spoke. "It is because of the sheer might and power of our house," he began. "Our wealth, our armies, our influence... These are things that smaller houses can only dream of possessing." He met Tywin's gaze, trying to read the older man's expression. "We Lannisters are feared and respected. And because of that, lesser houses bend the knee to us."

"Lesser houses bend the knee to us for one reason and one reason alone. Because a Lannister always pays his debts, not our words but I am fond of its truth. Whether it be in gold or in blood, our debts are aligned."

Lancel nodded, his eyes never leaving Tywin's. "Yes, my lord," he agreed, his voice steady. "The Lannisters have always prided ourselves on paying our debts. It is a source of our strength and respect."

"So you can imagine I am not fond of our house being in debt to anyone but very fond of them being in debt to us."

Lancel swallowed, sensing the seriousness of the conversation. "Of course, my lord," he said. "Debts are a weakness, and the Lannisters cannot afford to be perceived as weak."

"And you happen to be very important to house Lannister, do you know why?"

Lancel's heart quickened as he heard those words. He had always felt a sense of duty to his family, and to hear that he was important to House Lannister filled him with pride and determination. He met Tywin's gaze, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied. "No, my lord. Why am I important to House Lannister?"

"You are a Lannister, and because of that fact the moment you fell out you’re mother you have always been protected. And important. Because of that" he said pointing his pen to Lancel’s crotch "That is your importance to our family, because what comes out of that Is as worthy as the gold veins of casterly rock."

Lancel felt heat rise to his cheeks at his uncle's bluntness, but he knew there was truth in Tywin's words. He averted his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. "I... I understand, my lord," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will do everything in my power to live up to the expectations placed upon me."

"as you should. My son has sworn himself to the king's guard. To celebasy every day I wish to throttle him for it. My second son is an imp whom I'm not even confident has been able to father bastards. Your brothers are dead. My daughter may have blessed our family with children but they are not true Lannisters. They don't hold the family name. Your children will" Tywin explained "Soon I'll be dead, and your father, and my children, and grandchildren. One day you'll be dead and your children... But Lannister. House Lannister must prevail and live on beyond all of us. So you will do your duty and continue this family."

Lancel's eyes widened as his uncle spoke, the weight of his words settling like a heavy stone in his stomach. He knew what was expected of him. He knew what needed to be done. But the thought of marrying, of bedding a woman, it made him uneasy. "I... I understand my duty, my lord," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure the continuation of House Lannister."

"Good," he nodded "You are to be married, it's already arranged"

Lancel's heart skipped a beat as he heard his uncle's words. Matrimony had been a prospect that he had been avoiding for some time now, and the idea of it being arranged by his uncle and not himself filled him with a sense of dread. "Already... arranged?" he repeated, his voice faltering slightly. "Whom am I to marry?"

"You will wed Y/n Baratheon. Stannis eldest daughter."

Lancel's eyes widened at his uncle's words. He had known of Y/n Baratheon, the eldest daughter of Lord Stannis, and often heard tales of her beauty. "A Baratheon..." he muttered, the name heavy on his tongue. "And... and what does Lord Stannis get in return for giving me his daughter's hand?"

"Nothing. Lord Stannis is dead." She said "But house Baratheon holds a large army all rallying behind Y/n at Storm's end. But she is a girl, her children will not hold the name Baratheon, and though Joffery’s children will they will be kings and queens ruling kings landing and Dragon stone. Storms end sits without a Baratheon to rule it, Y/n is their last hope. Their last hope of maintain a house that's existed since the conquest. She needs to marry to secure her house, and we wish to quell any potential rebellion against the throne where my grandson sits"

"So... so the match is for political reasons, not a personal one?" he asked, seeking clarification. "The marriage is a means of quelling potential rebellion, not a matter of... affection, or love."

"Love is for smallfolk"

Lancel nodded, his expression solemn. He knew that love was not something that was often considered in noble marriages, but it still stung to have it dismissed so easily. "I understand," he replied quietly. "The needs of the family come first. Always. I will marry this Y/n Baratheon, and do my part to ensure the survival and strength of House Lannister."

"good, and you will take up lordship of storms End, give her lots of children and when the times comes you and your children will rule over storms End and Casterly rock"

Lancel swallowed, the weight of his uncle's words heavy on his shoulders. Lordship of both Storm's End and Casterly Rock? It was a massive responsibility and one that he wasn't sure if he was ready for. "I... I will do my best, my lord," he said, his voice betraying a hint of unease. "I will marry Y/n, and... and give her children. And I will do everything in my power to protect and maintain both Storm's End and Casterly Rock, for the good of House Lannister."

"I'm glad to hear you understand the importance of this. She arrived this morning, you'll be married in the sept next week to a small fan fair but a joust to celebrate"

Lancel nodded, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming nuptials. He had never met Y/n Baratheon, "A small ceremony and a joust," he repeated, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "I... I will make sure everything runs smoothly, my lord."

"Good, you may go." He nodded "Perhaps take your betrothed on a walk about the gardens"

Lancel stood up from his seat, a sense of trepidation filling him. He had never been the most confident or charming of men, and the thought of spending time alone with his betrothed made him uneasy. But he knew he had no choice but to follow his uncle's orders. "As you wish, my lord," he said, his voice betraying a hint of apprehension. "I will speak with Y/n and take her for a walk in the gardens." With a final bow, Lancel left his uncle's chamber and made his way through the halls of the Red Keep. As he walked, his thoughts were a jumbled mess, ranging from the upcoming nuptials to his new role as lord of Storm's End. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, as he approached the gardens where he had been told he would find Y/n Baratheon.

Commissions here

#game of thrones #got #got fanfic #got fanfiction #got spoilers #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones lancel lannister #lancel lannister x reader #game of thrones lancel #lancellannister #lancel #lancel lannister #eugenesimon #eugene simon

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gulaman-writes · 3 months ago

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Entry 2 || . Gulaman_Writes

Written by ataei, Designed by riemel

[Side note: Images used are either from Canva or Pinterest]

In the young month of February, a realization most insulting struck me, resounding within like church bells in the distance on a windy Sunday. The intrusion was as follows: “the sky is falling.” It was very much ominous and quite bewildering to have come across this thought so suddenly and at such a nondescript time and date, but somehow it felt almost like a news headline from a shady organization—a sort of prophecy dictated within a single strip of paper encased in a brittle cookie. And so I set my gaze upon the heavens, the very expanse purported to be the harbinger of the end of the world. There was nothing special about the sky. It was as blue as any other day with fine weather. In fact, such an observation allowed me to entertain the idea of a leisurely stroll, but not so leisurely as to uproot the realization planted upon my mind. As the sun dipped down according to its meticulous by-the-second schedule, the moon slowly shifted into view. It was like a pearl of the most select oyster. Dazzling, bright, cold. The weather’s temperament quickly yielded to a cool ambience as everything got darker, but not too dark as it was all well-illuminated by that eye suspended in the sky. That night, though silent, left me tossing and turning in bed.

A month passed by, and the horizon felt “closer,” as if the entire world was being crushed into itself. The peculiar thought that perched on my mind shook itself out of the ground from which it was buried under other matters that were more pressing to my past iterations. Now, everything seems so erratic and looming. What was meant by the sky falling? Was the Earth’s atmosphere literally going to collapse onto the surface of the crust? If so, why and how? If not, what else could it possibly mean? As I had no way of possibly averting an event of this scale and magnitude, I resorted to paying it no mind. Which was all a lie, as these thoughts continued to circulate around in my brain as I went by my daily life. The fact that I had no plan made it even worse, despite my acknowledgement of the sheer impossibility of devising such a course of action effective against the nearing flattening of everything I held dear.

As spring came and went, I was met with the idea that this might possibly be the culmination of everything I had been expecting, awaiting, dreading. It is simply impossible. Perhaps I could have done something to at least mitigate whatever chaos ensues but I have done nothing and now my actions will bear fruit. I had been inconsistently convincing myself that it will pass and any preparations I make will be of little effect compared to whatever I will do on the actual event itself, but I had also been convincing myself that I need to do everything in my power to stop this, so in the end, I was left in a state of paradoxical paralysis. The sky is falling.

I cannot see the sun. In fact, I cannot see anything at all. My entire view started getting dimmer and dimmer until I couldn't make out anything, even after shining a flashlight directly into my left eye at a distance of 0.0024cm away from the cornea. I slept, or at least I think I did. That is what I had experienced until only a few moments ago. From the moment of my awakening, it appears as though the cycle of day and night is eternally suspended at twilight. I cannot say whether or not it is after dawn or before dusk, but the light, or rather the lack thereof, has been a nuisance to deal with. Electricity operates as normal—in fact, I cannot discern anything quite different about the world compared to how it was before, except for the fact that the sun will no longer rise, nor will it set. Is this how it will be, indefinitely?

There is a new phenomenon that I have observed; it is extremely infrequent—I have only ever experienced it happen twice over the “summer”—and I have yet to find a pattern as to when or where it happens, nor do I have an explanation as to why it happens, though I will describe it in detail to the best of my abilities.

The phenomenon itself is preceded by a sudden appearance of some sort of tricolored fireflies, usually in sets of 7 or 8 insects per appearance, within a 5 meter radius. Approximately 15 minutes after the initial appearance of the fireflies, there will be a sudden cracking sort of sound from an indiscernible source, but the sound itself isn't uncomfortable. After which, blotches of daytime sky will appear to glide across the starless “sky” like droplets of oil floating on water. This will last around an hour, before all mentioned peculiarities will dissipate.

Something seems so hopeful about these occurrences—it’s as if the world is slowly returning to normal with each one, although I cannot say for sure.

I'm aimless.

End.

#literature #manga #philosophy #original post #pinterest #canva #gulaman_writes

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dragonsfell · 9 months ago

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jaheira banter from bg2, part 3.

DO NOT REBLOG. Here's some conversations from Jaheira in Baldur's Gate 2; that I wanted to highlight. I owe the enhanced editions of the originals and play to plan again, but I wanted to share some some the interactions Jaheira had; to see where she came from // i wanted these saved on the blog // a warning that given the age of these games and the edition of D&D they spawn from; fantasy racism was at its height and everywhere and alignments were ever present & very black and white

With Sarevok ; a chaotic evil human deathbringer

Sarevok: What is that I smell? A burning rage? Hatred barely controlled? Jaheira, your eyes threaten to cut out my heart as I stand. Jaheira: Walk where you will. My fight with you is over. Sarevok: Is it? I had hoped my last bid for power would have had a more enduring impact. The memories of the victims are all that remain of it. Jaheira: You are nothing to me. You are a phantom, a shadow of an evil already faded. I will remember your defeat and nothing more. Sarevok: My... defeat. Of course, I understand. I am nothing because if I AM something, then you failed, didn't you? You worry that the avenged will not sleep if their tormentor has returned. Jaheira: Your existence is an insult to Gorion and every life you took, so I deny you, just as nature's grand cycle has denied you and spat you back upon the surface. Sarevok: Harsh words, nature's warrior. You cut to my soul raising questions of who or what I am, and I have no answer... But I can *live* with that. Jaheira: You *exist*; you do not *live*. You will miss the Great Mother's embrace in time. You are nothing.

there's a lot so the rest is under the read more. DO NOT REBLOG.

With Valygar ; a neutral good human stalker

Jaheira: You scan the horizon as a hawk, Valygar. Though with such an unnatural threat in your past, I cannot say I blame you. Valygar: Unnatural, yes. I struggle to understand the differences in magic that have been presented to me. How do you feel about it, Jaheira? Are they not all cut of the same vile shroud? Jaheira: Magic takes many forms, and only some dare circumvent the cycle of death. It is a power that draws from all things and need not be feared for simply being. Valygar: I suppose not, though there is ample to fear in those that wield it. - - - - - Jaheira: I find it surprising we have so little to say to one another, Valygar. Valygar: I have little to say to anyone, usually, and that is by my design. Jaheira: I understand. Still, we share much as druid and ranger. Valygar: Yes, we share misconceptions and stereotypes. You know as well as I that our outlooks differ fundamentally. Jaheira: Perhaps. As a druid, any encroachment of civilization on the wild places is a loss to be mourned. Valygar: I have seen communities destroyed because they did not fit the "balance" of a marsh or woodland. Jaheira: Destroyed? Valygar: "Encouraged" to relocate, but these are just different words for the same thing. Jaheira: I'm sure it was a dire circumstance. Valygar: Someone thought it was. Responsible use was apparently not an option. I bear you no ill will, Jaheira, but druidic "big-picture balance" can spawn very intimate hardships. Jaheira: Well, we shall have to agree to disagree. Valygar: As you see fit.

With Viconia ; a neutral evil drow cleric (here's that 90s fantasy racism)

Viconia: Tell me, Harper, who was who with your parentage? Father the darthiir, mother the rivvil? Or father human, mother elven? It's always confusing with crossbred mongrels. Jaheira: Two people in love, swine. A rain not likely to soak your parade of scabbed obscenity anytime soon. - - - - - Jaheira: Avert your eyes, dark elf! I'll not have you taint the beauty of the wood with your poison gaze. Viconia: Would you deny me even the sight of the trees, Jaheira? I can appreciate the strength of the oaks even though I would never live amongst them. Jaheira: I am not to be swayed by your words, creature. I know too much of you and your kind. Viconia: Ooo, such delicious fire, though better it was turned on an enemy. I would be your ally, Jaheira; your strength might even bring you respect among my kind. Jaheira: Lies. Such respect would grant me naught but a bigger tombstone, or a nameless grave in a slightly nicer tunnel. Viconia: Granted, you might not live to make that favorable impression, but I still say it is so. Take that as you will.

With Yoshimo ; a neutral human bounty hunter

Jaheira: You need not turn your eyes to me each time I drop my head, Yoshimo. I am well and fine. Yoshimo: If that is so, then I am glad. I am eager to please if you should want for anything. Jaheira: I am sure, but I will keep my thoughts to myself in this case Yoshimo: Ahh, memories of the fallen are the sweetest, are they not? I will intrude no more. Jaheira: Er, yes, whatever you wish.

#yes that sarevok and viconia #[ ABOUT ] Jaheira #[ ABOUT ] All Headcanons #[ STUDY ] Jaheria #and this will be the last one until i comb through #dialogue from jaheira's romance in bg2 cause there are some stellar lines about loss and moving on #even if the romance is poor taste and weird

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themsbiandiaries · 1 year ago

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in Solavellan hell so I wrote this

Dust scatters from the tome’s surface, its long slumber ended by an intrusion. It glitters as it floats in a pale moon’s light, threads trickling through time-worn walls of a dilapidated chamber. A deep female voice, soft and caring, echoes in the mind of the intruder.

“I taste your sorrow, Solas.”

The figure runs his hand across the cover of the ancient tome, thumbing at a sun-like symbol. His voice is soft and sad. “I have no time to spare for you, spirit.” He carefully unlocks the latches binding the tome shut.

“Why do you carry it with you? It hangs around you like a miasma.“

The elf turns a page, silent. It is taken for uncertainty; the voice coils about his figure, probing. “You cannot hide these emotions from me.��

“I do not care to, spirit. My desire may be plain to see, but for your own sake, I must ask you to return whence you came.“

His hand searches for the right page, careful and gentle.

“Look at me, Solas.“

His hand trembles. The voice morphs. Gentler. Higher. A voice he still heard in his dreams.

“Not that memory, spirit. Do not toy with me.“

Silence. The spirit coils into a wisp of energy, floating before him.

“But you made me.”

The elf averts his eyes.

“I am your Desire.“

Features all too familiar float in the space between the Waking World and the Dream. The elf Solas sighs deeply and finally allows himself to look.

“Do you deny me? I warn you...“

Lavellan’s lips curl into a sad smile.

“You would only be feeding me.“

Solas meets the spirit’s gaze. The tome glows briefly, whatever power it held absorbed into the elf’s palm. “Even so, spirit.“ Its form withers and wilts, gently melting into a tiny flicker. “I cannot stop. Not even for this.”

He turns back from the moonlit altar. A growing weight trails after him; a warping in the fabric of reality, attached to his long shadow. He does not seem to notice.

It whispers to him as he steps through an ancient mirror, sweet and loving and cruel. And though the words pass him by, far too simple to affect him, as he passes through the veil between worlds he thinks he sees something. Someone. No. No, it must have been a trick of the mind.

Try as he might, he could not get it out of his thoughts. And as it often was, his resolve faltered not with a sigh but with a crack. The healing wound ripped open anew. Regret festered about him. His ancient fortress exhaled softly, giving in with a whimper. *Something* was coming into this world.

#solavellan #dragon age #solas #lavellan #skyhold #fanfic #regret #it ends up being my version of how the Regret demon comes into Skyhold

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snzhnrisen · 2 years ago

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"If I may be so bold to ask," The words hang there for a moment, as his gaze shifted from the sovereign to the mountains and peaks blanketed in white, in the distance. "will you promise not stop looking at me ifーwhenーmy end comes?"

It was an innocent question, as innocent as a person like him could make it. There was no lament or sadness in his features, instead adorned with a small, tender smile of his. As if the topic endeared him.

"I want you to see me in my final glorious moment, when I've finally made the last throne in Celestia crumble and the last celestial god kneel to my feet. And I want you to remember me not as a mortal, but as your greatest weapon and soldier, meeting its end in glory and victory. Will you promise me this, Your Majesty?"

@narvvhal

"It is, indeed, a bold request."

Her voice comes out as much harsher than expected as she watches him without looking away. If eyes could deal striking damage and pierce anyone, Tsaritsa could've killed countless with one look alone. The Sovereign of Snezhnaya does not hesitate to give his words a minute to settle in. Her Polar Star, her Knight, her Sword, her Young Lord, her Tartaglia. He was the bright star shining on the night sky, never leaving her sight, and someone who would burn as brightly as will Snezhnaya's future. Her people, her beloved region, and her precious people, they will live long even if she is gone. Tartaglia was one of the people she wished to protect. Cryo Archon was a goddess of love before she would pretend as if she no longer were one, but love bleeds into her decisions and into her wish to do anything to secure a new world for those who will live ahead.

Miroslava doesn't give him an answer, only giving him a hard look that is impossible to read. Her heart was said to be frozen, but he would know that she does not like to think of them all passing away. Signora's death hurt her greatly, her grief and her love bled together through the tears that she shed when all Harbingers left. But she will not stop nor would Tartaglia stop at anything to secure the promise he made to her. His loyalty will never be forgotten, he will forever remain her Polar Star and a star she will never let to be extinguished without joining him on the battlefield.

Will be upset to learn of her true wishes? To place her life on the line before any of the Harbingers if some would still be alive in the battle against Heavens themselves. Celestia be damned, she will see her plan to completion even if her own lie must become the last torch her warriors will need to carry out their destined end. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sight. Tartaglia is asking for something from her - the sovereign and the leader of Harbingers - and she does not have anything to say against it.

"I will," she nods as a way to give him acknowledgment and accept his request. "On my name as the Cryo Archon, the Tsaritsa," she brings her hand up to place atop of her heart, eyes gleaming with determination and strength. She cannot deny him this promise. "I swear to you, my Harbinger, that I will not avert my eyes when your end comes. Even if I lose my eyes, know that I will not remember as anything less than my knight, my sword, and my loyal soldier."

Miroslava's voice doesn't tremble.

"Thus, you must promise me back that you will do everything in your power to reach the last seat of Celestia by my side. Become the very sword that lands the last hit on our enemy," she was no Morax to establish contracts, but this could very well be one. "Do you accept my condition, Tartaglia?"

#narvvhal #cries lowkey and highkey #they make me so emotional #⁽ ❅ ⁾ ‣ in character. ― ❛ snowstorm’s pained voice rings within your head as snowflakes melt. ❜

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sgcstories · 3 months ago

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Chapter 1

King Severus Snape, adorned in his most majestic attire, is seated on his throne, his intense gaze fixed upon one of the guards, his eyes ablaze with determination. "You said you found someone wandering my ice lands?" he asked, his voice cold.

With a nod and a small bow, the guard silently acknowledges him. "Yes, my lord. She was found wandering the castle grounds in the woods, looking for a way out."

His features become rigid, and with a haughty gaze, he leans forward on the throne. "You said it yourself - she was searching for a way out. Do you dare suggest I let her go after she had breached my realm? Do you think me such a fool?" The icy tone in King Severus' voice sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

Opening his mouth, the guard starts to say something, but quickly changes his mind and shakes his head. "No, my lord. But she is just a mere traveler who lost her way."

There's a flicker of amusement in the king's voice, even as his eyes narrow slightly. "Ah, a mere traveler, you say? Then perhaps I should show her the true meaning of hospitality in the Winter Court."

With a gesture, the king's guard beckoned two members of his unit to bring her closer. As she entered the throne room, a man pushed her roughly, causing her to stumble and fall onto the chilling stone surface beneath her. With anticipation etched in his hardened eyes, King Severus Snape observed her arrival before him. As he stepped down from his seat, his black leather gloved hand reached out, gripping the chain around her neck tightly as he pulled her closer. With a wince, she slowly opened her eyes, revealing the fear and discomfort that etched her freckled face.

"Ah, a lost traveler, seeking warmth in my lands. But be warned, my dear, for I am not known for my hospitality." His voice was bitter, yet there was an undeniable charm to it.

The woman's pretty light brown eyes welled up with tears, but she quickly blinked them away and averted her gaze from him.

"Do you know why I don't show mercy to trespassers?" He inched closer, his exhale causing a ticklish sensation in her ear. "Because they challenge my authority, and I cannot allow that."

Once more, she grimaced, sensing the tightening of the chain encircling her neck as he addressed her. "Tell me, what is your name, little traveler?" he asked, his voice still cold.

With a slight bow, the guard moved forward. "We have had little luck in getting her to speak, my lord. She's not uttered a single word."

"Hmm, perhaps she's not used to my kind of hospitality. Or maybe she's just too scared to speak." He smirked slightly, amused by the power he held over her. "In any case, she'll learn to obey soon enough."

Her light brown eyes transformed their expression from fear to something different. Giving him a piercing stare, she opted to stay silent.

"So, you choose silence over obedience, do you? Very well. I want to clarify that I am a tolerant ruler, but even my patience has its limits." He stood upright, casting a shadow over her.

"What shall we do with her, my lord?" The guard, filled with concern, inquired while looking at the young woman. "People of her realm can't survive here."

The woman was met with a gaze full of amusement as King Severus Snape narrowed his eyes. He advanced, causing the chain around her throat to constrict slightly. "You remind me of my own humble beginnings."

With a gulp, she endured the discomfort of the chain around her neck, which left a noticeable mark. To prevent herself from crying due to the pain, she squeezed her jaw firmly.

"You're right, my guard. We can't simply let her perish. She'll have to adapt or die trying." His gaze never leaving the girl, he pondered for a moment before adding, "For now, she'll be given shelter and food suitable for her season."

The guard's smile grew slightly, showing his satisfaction. On the pretty face of the young woman, there was a fleeting expression of relief.

"But do not mistake my kindness for weakness, little one. Remember, you are my prisoner, and you will learn to obey me... or suffer the consequences."

Instead of speaking, she communicated by blinking and avoiding eye contact, focusing on the cold stone floor. "From this day forward, you will live in my palace. You will eat when I say, and you will sleep where I command. Your every move will be watched, and your every thought will be analyzed. Do you understand," he said, his voice raising a bit.

Seated on the ground, she gently rested her hands on her lap and gave a nod.

"Good. Now rise and my guard to your new chambers," he finished, standing straight and walking away as the guard assisted her to her feet.

Upon seeing her depart, King Severus settles back into his throne. He leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face, as he ponders the extent of his power. The king's most trusted assistant leans in to whisper something.

"My lord, are you sure having a Spring realm dweller here is a good idea? She might be a spy," the advisor stated his worry.

"I am aware of the risks, Lucius. But something about her intrigues me. And if she is a spy, then let her try to outsmart me. For now, we'll observe her and see how she fares in our realm," King Severus stated, tapping the armrest of the throne.

"You don't think, perhaps, she's of royal blood in the Spring realm?" Lucius pondered out loud.

Snape glanced sideways, pondering the suggestion. "It's possible, Lucius. However, even if she isn't directly related to their ruler, her presence could potentially stir up trouble or reveal weaknesses in the Spring court."

"Having her presence here could greatly benefit you, my lord... in assuming control of the Spring realm," Lucius exclaimed with a touch of enthusiasm in his tone.

"There's that, Lucius. The allure of power over another season... But remember, even with her as leverage, it won't be easy. The Spring court values freedom and beauty above all else. We must tread carefully," Snape said, nodding his agreement.

Lucius made a gesture, acknowledging that they had excelled in the area of beauty, specifically referring to the young woman's attractiveness.

With an air of superiority, Severus glanced at him. "Indeed, they do." He stood and stepped closer to Lucius, their whispers echoing through the stone hallways. "But remember, this is my domain. And any trespass from another season will not be tolerated."

With a slight downward movement of his head, Lucius expressed agreement. Naturally, my lord. It would be wise to be vigilant about certain men. They appear to be quite thirsty. If you know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean, Lucius. And I will be keeping a close watch on everyone. No one is above suspicion in this game of power." He paused for a moment, his eyes glinting with a sinister intent. "And speaking of games..." The king's lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing his perfect white teeth. "I've been offered a woman from the Spring realm as leverage. A most beautiful one at that." He paused, letting the implications sink in. "I will send word shortly to the Spring realm of her being here."

"That's an excellent plan, Your Highness," Lucius said, his face lighting up with approval. "We should wait three days before sending them word."

With a raised eyebrow, Severus pondered over the advice from Lucius. "Hmm, three days might be too long. Two days should suffice." He went to his study and picked up a quill and dipped it into an inkwell. "Make the necessary arrangements."

"Yes, my lord. As you wish," Lucius owed before leaving his presence.

"I wonder how she'll react to the harshness of our realm," King Severus wondered out loud.

Standing in the middle of the guest room chamber, the young woman had the chain around her neck removed by the guard. Her face contorted in pain as she carefully touched the area where the chain had left a mark.

Taking a moment to think, King Severus formulated a clever solution. "Lucius, ensure she's shown to the gardens. We'll give her a taste of her own Spring While she's here."

"Certainly, my lord. I'll ensure that she is aware of its whereabouts... if I manage to get her out of her room. The guards have informed me that she is stubborn."

Severus quietly chuckled in response to Lucius's remark. "She's from the Spring realm, isn't she? Stubbornness runs deep in their veins." He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Your Lordship, maybe she would be more receptive to you," Lucius said, rubbing his chin.

Giving him a thoughtful look, Severus contemplated his suggestion. "A challenge, indeed. But perhaps one I'm willing to undertake." His eyes hardened as he stood up from his chair. "I'll handle this myself."

Lucius nodded and observed as the king vanished towards his chamber. The door was shut and two guards were rapping on it, attempting to persuade her to unlock it.

"Open the door," Snape instructed the guards.

A sigh escaped from one of the guards. "My lord, we gave it our all and tried everything we could. She is not willing to come outside. After I liberated her from the chain around her neck and departed, she closed the door and locked herself inside."

Their incompetence frustrated Severus, clear by the twitching of his eyebrow. "I will take care of it," he grumbled, forcefully pushing past them and striding towards the door.

With a swift motion, the king lifted his hand and knocked firmly on the door. "Open this door now," he demanded coldly, with authority in his voice. He made no effort to conceal his annoyance or impatience.

There was a noticeable click coming from within, and the door started to open slightly. Her eyes, a gentle shade of brown, lifted to meet his gaze.

"You are coming out now," Severus said, his voice like ice. Without any concern, he openly displayed his irritation. His intense gaze never wavered as he leaned against the door frame, focused on her.

As she opened the door further, her small frame contrasted with his towering height. The young woman gently held her neck, feeling discomfort from the chain she had worn earlier. Severus advanced, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. His hands stayed by his side, with his fingers gently twitching.

"I'm not making a request," he said with a menacing tone. "I am telling." He had no intention of letting her get away with this.

With a slight nod, she opened the door completely. "What a good girl," Severus purred, as he took a step into her chambers. His eyes scanned her figure, carefully noting every detail. "Now, what is your name?"

Her gaze was fixed on the ground as she gently massaged her sore neck. Severus swiftly crossed the room, coming to a halt mere inches from her quivering figure. "Answer me. Your name, girl," he said harshly.

She looked up and met his eyes, with the atmosphere in the room enhancing the beauty of her light brown eyes. "Lily," he said in a low, menacing tone, his voice smooth yet powerful. "You go by the name Lily, right?" He subtly leaned closer, his breath lightly brushing against her face. After she nodded, he made it clear, "Lily, you are to address me as 'my lord'."

Severus arched an eyebrow in response to her wordless stare. "I've asked you something," he said in a low, seductive tone. "Are you aware of the repercussions of defying my orders?" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.

She gave a nod of agreement but remained silent. The thought crossed King Severus' mind whether she was incapable of speaking. A sigh escaped him as he moved back a little. "Very well. Fo For now, you may address me as my lord since you seem to have trouble with other options." His eyes narrowed slightly, observing her closely. "I hope you understand that this is your new reality, Lily."

Once again, she gently massaged her neck, grimacing in pain. In a relaxed manner, Severus took a seat on the edge of her compact bed, allowing his eyes to roam over her figure. Quietly, she stood in place, her body shaking a bit. Her outfit wasn't meant for this cold, icy realm.

"Lily," he murmured gently, his voice nearly comforting despite the chilly aura surrounding him. "I strongly suggest that you switch to something more suitable for the Winter court. Our clothing is designed to provide warmth.

With a nod and a slight shrug, she looked at him, indicating her uncertainty about the location of anything. "I'll have someone bring you something appropriate," he assured, his voice serene yet authoritative. "In the meantime, perhaps you should rest. You look tired." His gaze drifted over her again, taking in her pale skin and weary expression.

Severus observed her closely, taking note of her obedient response as she nodded slowly. It was surprising how quickly she adapted to her new circumstances, especially since she hailed from the Spring realm. Curiosity filled him as he questioned the nature of his control over her, which led to her continued submissiveness despite their circumstances.

#romance fiction #romance #fanfiction #fanfic #severus snape #professor snape

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