#just as the fates decreed it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 4 months ago

Text

𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙰 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 2.1k | Proof read : NO

Summary : The night before a battle, General Acacius has something to tell the blacksmith's daughter.

Warnings: SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), masturbation F and M, implied age gap, scars, breeding kink

A/n : I wrote this in like an hour so...enjoy my horny Roman general smut with a touch of lovely dovey bc ovulation, Also I'm very dyslexic lol

The needs of any general are important, and yet your father handles the most critical element of all: crafting the armor and swords meant for battle. Among all your father's customers, General Acacius was your favorite. Alluring and tempting, he was a force of nature, and he knew it. He almost never lost a fight. If your father knew about your infatuation, he might just muster the strength to overpower the general himself.

But that didn't stop the glances. You dreamed and prayed to the goddess Venus that he would take you as his wife or even a whore.

You helped your father polish the swords and armor for the men. This week, another battle of the gladiators loomed on the horizon. It was late, the night sky high above as you rubbed polish along a chest plate. The sound of an approaching horse made you stand tall. It was a single horse, a white steed adorned with armor you knew all too well. It galloped up to where you were, at the part of the blacksmith's forge that was outside. The firelight illuminated his face as he spoke.

"Evening, fair one," General Acacius said, his voice as smooth and commanding as ever. He dismounted, his gaze never leaving you. "Is your father about?"

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. "He has retired for the night, General."

Acacius stepped closer, the flickering flames casting shadows on his chiseled features. "Then it is fortunate that I find you here. I have something important to discuss."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation building within you. "What is it, General?"

He looked down, his expression softening. "Tomorrow, I march into battle. A battle that carries great risk. And I cannot go without first telling you what is in my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat. "General, I—"

He raised a hand, silencing you gently. "No titles now, please. Call me Marcus."

"Marcus," you whispered, the name feeling strange and intimate on your lips.

He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of leather and steel. "For too long, I have admired you from afar. Your beauty, your spirit, your kindness. You have captured my heart, and I can no longer keep it hidden."

You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion flooding through you. "Marcus, I... I never thought..."

"I know," he interrupted softly. "And I do not ask for an answer now. I only ask that you know the truth. Should I fall in battle tomorrow, I want you to know that I love you. With all that I am, I love you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to touch his hand. "Marcus, please come back to me."

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "I will fight with all my strength, for you give me reason to survive. But if fate decrees otherwise, remember my words and hold them close."

As he turned to leave, you called out to him, your voice trembling. "Marcus, I love you too."

He paused, looking back at you with a fierce determination in his eyes. "Then I shall return. For nothing, not even the gods themselves, can keep me from you."

Marcus closed the distance between you, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your heart race. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender as if savoring every moment. You melted into his embrace, the world around you fading into nothingness.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were ablaze with desire. "Come with me," he whispered, his voice husky and commanding. "We do not have much time."

Without waiting for a response, he took your hand and led you away from the forge, his grip strong and unwavering. You followed him through the shadows, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the path ahead. The air was thick with anticipation and the promise of what was to come.

He guided you to the far side of the property, where the cattle were kept. The soft sounds of the animals settling for the night filled the air, creating a backdrop of calm amid the storm of your emotions. Marcus led you into a small, secluded barn, the scent of hay and earth surrounding you.

Inside, the dim light revealed a space both intimate and hidden from prying eyes. Marcus turned to you, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I have waited too long for this moment," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I need you, here and now."

You nodded, your own desire mirroring his. "Then take me, Marcus. I am yours."

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, his lips firm and demanding. His hands slipped under the shoulders of your gown, letting the fabric dip. You gasped, the cool night air grazing your exposed skin. He looked at you intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Have you been taken?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"I'm no stranger to my own touch," you admitted, feeling small and vulnerable under his gaze, "but to a man?" You shook your head, your heart pounding.

A flicker of something dark and primal flashed in his eyes. He pulled your dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall into the hay scattered across the barn floor. You instinctively moved to cover yourself, but he was quicker. His hands were on your sides, warm and possessive. He kissed you once more, his hands moving upwards, palming your breasts as he began to kiss your neck. You gasped, planting your hands against his armor.

"Marcus," you breathed.

He stopped kissing you and gently patted your shoulder, a silent command to lie down in the hay. The loud clang of his armor hitting the ground sent a jolt of excitement through you. He stripped off his underclothes, revealing himself to you. Immediately, you jumped to your knees, meeting him on the ground. You looked at his body in shock and awe, the scars scattered across his muscular frame telling stories of battles fought and won.

Worry etched your brow as you reached out to trace the outline of his muscles and scars, getting lost in the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"They're healed," he murmured, his voice tender. "I feel no pain."

He caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss, cradling your head as he laid you back down. “Touch yourself,” he commanded softly, his eyes dark and hungry.

Your eyes widened at his request, but the slight smile on his lips and the warmth in his eyes gave you the courage to comply. You brought one hand to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up, while the other hand roamed your body, seeking out the places that felt the best. You closed your eyes, small moans escaping your lips.

You frowned slightly, still concerned, but he caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss. He cradled your head as he laid you back down. "Touch yourself," he whispered, his voice a seductive command.

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "Go on," he almost chuckled at the slight shyness you showed.

With trembling hands, you took one to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up. Your other hand grasped your breast before roaming your body, seeking out whatever felt good in the moment. You closed your eyes, letting small moans escape your lips. You brought your hand that had been circling your clit to your mouth, opening your eyes to see what Marcus was doing.

He watched you with a hunger that made your pulse quicken. As you started sucking on two of your fingers, he stroked his length at the same speed, thick and overwhelming. Precum lined his cock, glistening in the dim light. You let your fingers out of your mouth with a pop, and he growled a low, primal sound. You spread your legs further, looking him dead in the eyes as you inserted two fingers into your wet cunt, thrusting them slowly while maintaining eye contact. Soft moans spilled from your lips, your back arching.

Marcus cracked, stopping your hand with a firm grip. You whined at the sudden stop of pleasure, but he pulled your hand from your cunt and sucked at the slick-covered fingers, savoring every bit. He released your hand with a pop, then spit into his own before rubbing it onto his cock. He leaned down, kissing your neck to distract you from any discomfort.

He rubbed his dick along your folds before pushing into you slowly. The action made you claw at his back and let out a yelp. You'd managed to put three fingers in your cunt at one point, but nothing compared to the size and mass of Marcus Acacius.

"Shh, shh, the pain will end soon," he whispered, kissing your forehead. He began to thrust into you slowly, being careful not to cause more pain. Eventually, the discomfort faded, replaced by a growing pleasure. You began to moan, and Marcus groaned, planting a hand on your hip while the other wandered up and down your body.

He bit his lip, a bead of sweat forming along his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin. His strokes became more forceful, and you started to moan louder, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

"M-more, General," you gasped for air before continuing, "more."

He growled in response, speeding up. His free hand moved to rub your clit, his thrusts harder and faster. The hay scratched at your skin, but you didn't care. Your hands gripped his forearms as you felt your pussy start to clench down on his cock. Your orgasm crashed over you with a loud moan, and Marcus continued thrusting, fucking you through your climax with sloppy, erratic movements.

With a deep moan, he spilled his hot seed inside you, filling you completely. He kissed you passionately before pulling out and collapsing beside you in the hay. You lay there together, bodies entwined, the afterglow of your shared pleasure enveloping you. The cool night air mixed with the warmth of your bodies, creating a cocoon of intimacy that made the world outside seem distant and unimportant.

Marcus turned to you, his breath still heavy, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I will return," he said, his voice a blend of steel and tenderness. "I will win this battle, and when I do, I will make you my bride."

You felt a surge of emotions, hope, and love intertwining with the remnants of your passion. "Marcus, you must be careful," you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his strong jaw. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

He took your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, before bringing it to rest over his heart. "With you in my thoughts, I am invincible," he declared. "Every sword I raise, every enemy I face, it will be for you. The gods themselves could not keep me from your side."

You gazed into his eyes, feeling the weight of his promise settle deep within your soul. "And I will be here, waiting for you," you vowed, your voice trembling with emotion. "My heart, my body, they are yours."

He smiled a rare and beautiful thing that made your heart skip a beat. "Then it is settled," he said, his tone resolute. "I will fight with all my might, knowing that my bride awaits me."

He shifted, rising from the hay with the grace and power of the warrior he was. You watched as he dressed, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The sight of his scars, his muscles, the very essence of his strength, only made you more certain of the love you felt for him.

Once fully dressed, he turned back to you, offering a hand to help you rise. You took it, feeling the roughness of his skin, the strength of his grip. He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both a promise and a farewell.

"I will return to you," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and reassuring.

"And I will be waiting," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and certainty.

With one final, lingering kiss, he stepped away, mounting his white steed with the same grace and power that had always captivated you. As he rode off into the night, you watched him go, your heart swelling with pride and love.

The barn seemed empty without him, the silence heavy with the weight of his absence. But as you gathered your gown and dressed, you felt a new sense of purpose. You would prepare for his return, ready to welcome him back as your victor and your husband.

1K notes · View notes

idkyetxoxo · 2 months ago

Text

Aemond Targaryen - Made for Him

Summary - She was made for him, a truth never far from her thoughts. Unable to restrain himself any longer and knowing their union was inevitable he simply could not hold back anymore. His need for her was overpowering, compelling him to possess her completely.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), getting caught in the act (very brief)

Word count - 2219

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

We were created for them and that is what we were told.

From the moment Helaena and I were born, our destinies were predetermined. We were aware of our fates since infancy. Our roles had been assigned to us by the whims and desires of others, shaped to fit their fantasies and ambitions.

Helaena, being the elder twin, was destined to marry Aegon, the future king, a decision decreed by our mother and her father, the Hand of the King. My own fate was to be bound to Aemond, the one-eyed prince.

"Brother," I greeted as Aemond entered the library.

"Sister," he replied, his gaze never leaving my figure as he selected a book from the shelves.

He settled into a chair opposite me, ostensibly to read, but his attention was fixed on me, his gaze intense and unwavering.

As I flipped through the pages of my book, I could feel his eye tracing my every movement. He watched me with a fascination that seemed to grow stronger with each passing year.

Aemond had never objected to our arranged match, on the contrary, he welcomed it. To him, I was more than just a sibling. I was his confidante, the one person who saw beyond the scarred face and understood the depths of his soul.

His anticipation for the day of our union was obvious. Ever since Helaena and Aegon's union, Aemond had been counting the days until our own. His desire was a tangible force, barely restrained by the conventions of courtly decorum.

Aemond's gaze moved over my face, lingering on my lips, which he longed to touch. His stare drifted lower, taking in the curve of my neck and the neckline of my dress, which revealed just enough to inflame his imagination. His eyes settled on my breasts, pressed against the fabric, and all sane thoughts eluded his mind.

Suddenly, he stood up, his book crashing onto the chestnut table with a resounding thud.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" I gasped, placing my book down to look up at him.

His eyes burned with fierce intensity. "I cannot do this," he suddenly said, striding toward me with determination. I gasped as he grabbed my arms, pulling me up and closing the distance between us.

"I want you," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. I swallowed hard.

"Aemond, we cannot," I chided, placing my hand on his chest. "Not before we are wed."

He exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "You were made for me," he said lowly, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "Does it really matter when we give in?" His burning gaze pierced through me.

Before I could fully comprehend his words, I shook my head.

"Then let me have you," he said, and without waiting for an answer, his lips crashed into mine with a fierce intensity.

Aemond's lips trembled as they met mine, the fierce exterior faltering for a brief moment. In that kiss, I felt not just desire, but a plea, a desperate need to be seen, to be understood, to be loved despite the darkness that lingered within him.

His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. He motioned for me to wrap my legs around him.

Supporting my weight with one hand, he used the other to hastily clear the large chestnut table of its books and papers, laying me across it. He crawled on top of me, his hands finding their way to my chest, squeezing my breasts through the fabric of my dress as he continued kissing me.

A soft groan escaped my lips, music to his ears, as his hands continued exploring my body.

"Aemond, not here," I mumbled against his lips, attempting to push him away, but he shook his head.

"Do not torture me by making me wait any longer," he breathed out, and I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from his needy look.

I lay back fully as Aemond moved to hike my dress up to my hips, granting him access to what he most desired. He began laying small kisses up the inside of my thigh, the pressure making my back arch.

His head was barely visible over the ruffled fabric of my dress, yet the intensity of his actions was unmistakable. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, heightening my anticipation.

His intensity both thrilled and terrified me, and as I felt his mouth travel up my thigh, I was caught between the urge to surrender and the instinct to flee.

When his tongue finally made contact with my most sensitive part, the sensation was overwhelming. A rush of heat surged through me, my legs shook uncontrollably, and my mouth cried out his name in sheer ecstasy.

"Aemond," I gasped, my voice quivering as he continued his ministrations with unrelenting skill.

My legs trembled, and despite the mounting pressure urging me to close them, Aemond's firm grip kept them spread wide, ensuring he had unrestricted access to my every reaction.

His tongue moved with precision, exploring every inch of my core, driving me to the brink of madness. Just as I felt myself nearing the peak of pleasure, he abruptly stopped.

My body ached with need, and I couldn't help but let out a frustrated whimper. Before I could protest, his face appeared before me, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His hands worked to remove my dress, but the intricate laces proved to be a challenge.

Impatient and driven by desire, Aemond's frustration grew. With one swift, decisive pull, he tore the delicate fabric, the sound of ripping cloth echoing in the room, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable before him.

I met his gaze, a mixture of anticipation and desire swirling within me. He looked over my body, a hungry stare of appreciation evident in his expression.

He began kissing up my stomach, the trail of his lips moving toward my neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. My hands moved instinctively to remove his clothes, needing to feel his skin against mine.

"Eager now?" he asked with a low laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes as he saw my urgency. I nodded quickly, as he helped me, stripping off his clothes with practised ease.

"Are you sure?" he asked one last time, his eyes searching my face for any sign of hesitation. The concern in his gaze was touching, a reminder of the depth of his feelings for me.

"Please," I pleaded, my voice barely more than a whisper. He smirked a confident and knowing expression, before crawling on top of me once more.

His body aligned with mine, the heat of his skin against me sending waves of anticipation through my veins. The world outside the library faded, leaving only the raw intensity of our desire.

"Don't hold back," Aemond murmured, his voice a comforting rumble as he gazed down at me. "I want to hear you, feel you, know everything you're feeling."

As he entered me, the connection between us deepened, binding us together in a way that transcended duty and obligation. It was a union forged in fire, destined to burn brightly through the corridors of power and ambition.

Our movements were synchronized, driven by a shared need that had been smouldering for years.

He seemed to sense my hesitation and paused, looking deeply into my eyes.

"It's okay," he whispered gently, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. "I've got you. Just focus on me."

I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he moved above me.

The sensation of our bodies joining was both overwhelming and exquisite, a fulfilment of the desire that had been building between us.

"You feel so perfect," he groaned in response, his pace quickening as he buried his face in the curve of my neck.

"You were made for me," he whispered, the words heavy with possession and reverence, as if by speaking them, he could bind me to him more surely than any vow. "Don't ever forget that."

His words sent a shiver through me, my body responding to the depth of his passion. "I won't," I promised, my voice breathless. "I need you, Aemond. I've always needed you."

"Show me," he urged, lifting his head to look into my eyes. "Show me how much you need me."

Encouraged by his words, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Like this?" I asked, my voice a mix of challenge and invitation.

"Yes, just like that," he groaned, the intensity of his gaze burning into mine. "Don't hold back. Let me feel all of you."

His movements became more deliberate, each thrust deep and measured as if he were trying to imprint himself onto my very soul. I could feel every inch of him moving within me, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that radiated through my entire being.

He would pull almost all the way out, leaving me aching with emptiness, only to drive back in with a force that made me gasp, filling me completely.

The sounds of our mingled breaths and whispered names filled the room, creating a symphony of shared desire. His hips moved with a primal urgency, a perfect blend of strength and tenderness, each thrust pushing me closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

His touch was fire, branding my skin with a heat that seared through every nerve, leaving me breathless and wanting.

"Aemond," I cried out as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. "I'm so close."

"Cum for me," he urged his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you shatter."

With his words, the tension within me broke, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. My muscles tightened around him, drawing him deeper as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as I cried out his name.

Aemond followed moments later, his own release a powerful, shuddering surge that left us both trembling.

He held me tightly, our bodies still intertwined, as we came down from the heights of our passion. His breath was warm against my skin, his heart pounding in time with mine.

"You were incredible," he murmured against my hair. "Every part of you."

Just as we settled into the aftermath, the sound of the library door creaking open shattered our intimate cocoon. We froze, eyes wide with shock, as no one other than Aegon stepped into the room, his expression one of disbelief.

For a moment, silence reigned, the three of us suspended in a tableau of surprise. Then, to our astonishment, Aegon burst into laughter, a rich, mocking sound that echoed through the library.

"Well, isn't this a delightful surprise," Aegon said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Carry on, then. Don't let me interrupt."

With that, he turned on his heel and left, still chuckling to himself. The door closed behind him with a definitive thud, leaving Aemond and me staring at each other, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

For a heartbeat, we remained still, the echo of Aegon's laughter ringing in our ears. As the silence returned, I could feel a wave of uncertainty washing over me, a flicker of guilt I hadn't expected.

Was this love, or merely the inevitability of our shared fate? I couldn't be certain, but in that moment, with his heart beating in time with mine, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of both.

Aemond's smirk faded as he caught the change in my expression, his eyes narrowing with concern.

"Do you feel bad about this?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability as he gently held my gaze.

I hesitated, my thoughts swirling. "No, it's not that... I just don't know," I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I didn't expect this, and now... I'm not sure what to think."

Aemond's grip on my waist tightened slightly, his hands warm and steady. He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against mine as he spoke. "We won't do anything like this again until you're sure. I don't want you to feel uncertain or pressured, ever."

His words were firm, but there was a softness to them that made my heart ache. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was trying to protect me, even from himself.

I looked up at him, my breath hitching slightly as I processed what he'd said. "It's not that I don't want this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm just... nervous."

Aemond nodded, his hand moving up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin.

"We'll take our time," he reassured me, his voice gentle. "No more surprises, no more rushing. I'll wait until you're ready, until you want this as much as I do."

A sense of relief washed over me at his words, the knot of uncertainty in my chest slowly unraveling. I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand.

"Thank you," I murmured, my eyes closing briefly as I allowed myself to relax.

With a final, tender kiss, Aemond pulled me close, his embrace protective and soothing. "You are mine," he whispered.

"Always," I whispered back, the tension in my voice easing as I felt the strength of our connection.

Our bond, once ignited by the fiery blaze of desire, had now mellowed into a gentle ember, glowing with the warmth of understanding and the tender caress of patience.

A/n - Crazyyy

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond

1K notes · View notes

ilions-end · 4 months ago

Text

all these myths about what happens to odysseus after the events of the odyssey. i've been thinking about the one (referenced by pseudo-apollodorus and plutarch) where odysseus is locked in conflict with the families of the killed suitors (because the divinely decreed conciliation at the end of the odyssey just didn't stick, i guess). they agree to send for neoptolemus (of ALL PEOPLE) to arbitrate, but neoptolemus secretly wants odysseus' estates, so his ruling is that odysseus is banished from ithaca, cephallenia and zacynthus "because of the blood that he had shed there", and also the families must pay odysseus a yearly fee to pay off the damages caused by the suitors. now odysseus has to wander off and father too many sons so they can establish roman cities.

obviously i think this myth is a little silly (as a number of post-odyssey myths are) but i always try to give each variant due thought, because presumably for some ancient people this WAS part of the story of odysseus.

so imagine it as the result of what happens in sophocles' philoctetes: maybe odysseus suggests and lobbies for neoptolemus as arbitrator because he assumes neoptolemus will be deferential, he remembers neoptolemus as he was -- conscientious but realistic, or just plain morally ambiguous and easy to manipulate. maybe neoptolemus' ruling is the direct result of the lesson odysseus taught him on that first, fateful mission: if you want something bad enough, you can't let sentiment or honesty get in the way. maybe there IS some lingering sense of loyalty and respect there, so neoptolemus tells himself that securing odysseus a yearly income makes up for forcing him to flee his home.

remember when philoctetes accused odysseus of forever ruining neoptolemus' moral compass? i think about that a lot

#i see a fragmented myth and i start finding ways for it to inflict emotional damage on myself basically #or imagine its storytelling potential. same thing #odysseus #neoptolemus #philoctetes #tagamemnon

536 notes · View notes

magicdustsworld · 4 months ago

Text

His Favourite

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Tropes: King x concubine, fluff to angst. (Just a drabble)

Tags: intention of impregnation, suggestive smut, heian era, no mentions of y/n.

________________________________

Being Sukuna's favourite concubine has its perks.

She gets all the special treatment. From the jewels decking her radiant form to the luxurious amenities granted to her by the lord, himself; she has it all. The mealtimes as well as place for all the other concubines are set in stone. For her, no. She dines with his lordship, indulging him in stories of her own while he indulges her like a artist to his muse.

Ryomen Sukuna is enamored.

Enamored by this woman who was offered to him by the second clan head of the village – a means to negotiate with his highness to not exploit their land. A negotiation upon which Sukuna took an keen interest.

However, may the tale of that burning village be kept out for another day.

For today- and for all the forthcoming days, are meant for this very woman who he keeps by his side while he lets the mortals entertain him with their quandaries.

It's his decree, for he is the King of curses and she – his cherished.

Everyone who visits him would and should know that she demands as much respect as him. That she is a force not to be reckoned with. That by his side, she doesn't cower to fear instead commands it.

That's satisfaction. That's fulfilment.

That very fulfilment isn't attained until the woman tenderly grazes her hand against his. Delicately she runs her fingertips over the ridges and callouses of his skin. However, the relief only courses in his veins when she presses her lips on his palm.

Glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, the suggestive glint isn't elusive to him. The mirthful curve of her lips to the innocuous mien oftentimes left him ensnared in a cage. A cage from where he deliberately wishes to never attain freedom.

This little minx...

Isn't it laughable? The haunting nightmare of humanity left to a crumbling mess in front of his precious, his cherished, his soon to be consort.

Hence, he indulges her.

Indulges her in a passionate evening where he trails warm kisses down her spine, hand resting on the dip of her hip while he curls his finger in her warm core. The ridges of his knuckles brushes her lips, grazing the sensitive space in her he draws out her salacious moans. Her face twists into a series of expression – ones which he etches on his memories with all the others.

It isn't enough. He needs more. He needs to know her. All of her.

Her lower body spasms as she hits the peak of her ecstasy. He doesn't stop there, he cages her again in his arms; her only home. Anywhere else isn't safe for her delicate essence.

He continues the passion filled dance, aligning himself with her entrance before he is pushing in. The difference in bodies is starkly evident, no amount of lubrication would ever help the initial pain. However, when Sukuna marks the traces of tears in her eyes, he is quick to caress her with affection. Adoration brims in his irises while endearments combined with encouragement are befallen on her parched ears.

She smiles and may the lords be merciful...

He gains the signal and he keeps her in his embrace for how long no one knows. He jostles her body from one position to another, drawing out lascivious sounds from her as the wave of pleasure crashes over both of them simultaneously.

His seed drips out from her and Sukuna, for all is a twisted man, hence he can't help the pride that swells his chest.

One day, he tells himself. One day the very seed will grow inside her as his kin. One day, he will have her by his side as his queen.

Sukuna lets her rest in his chambers after the fateful display of lust and fire. She is fast asleep on the silken sheets and he finds himself, cleaning the mess – her. Verily, he has his servants but they don't get to see her like this.

This beauty, this vulnerability. All of its his and only his. She is his.

She has him enthralled.

Each glance, each smile, each honeyed word spoken to him, kindles a fire in the abyss of his existence. The unknown vulnerability ensnares him deeply, vexation causes the slight quirk of his brows when he observes her again – frolicking in the courtyard with the chosen mortals whom she calls her friends.

He scoffs.

The sun embraces her in its glows while the zephyrs play and curl her cascading strands. The butterfly perches on her bare shoulder while she feeds the pigeons in the courtyard. The daunting smile, the flicker of light, the luring whisper, even with all the evidences shouting at him, he tells himself that its only the nature.

The nature enthralls him, not her.

Yet, when the very nature decides to flaunt itself by rendering the land, the sky, the air in hues of the golden twilight, there's only one beauty he finds – her.

Ryomen Sukuna indulges what he desires.

He desires her, hence he indulges her as well.

From bringing her exorbitant jewels and fabrics to all the books she wishes to read, he does it all. She needs a relaxing bath after a day of endless toil? Uraume is ordered to watch over the luxurious bath. She craves for a certain kind of meal? Uraume must prepare it, no matter the situation.

At this point, Uraume just happened to be serving two masters simultaneously.

However, shimmering stoned and resplendent kimonos hold little light in front the affection she acquires. Little do his other consorts know about the poems he pens for her. Only her.

Yet, he is twisted. So is his affection. Therefore, he keeps the poems all around the map of his abode. For her to solve the mystery and finally gain the fruit of his affections.

If only... if only he wasn't such a twisted man.

If only, you never chose to step in this side of the garden. If only–

Under moonlit skies

Our fingers grazed, silent bliss

I knew that day, yet

Ignited hearts had senses merged

Melding in midnight's embrace.

Was it a cruel joke?

The knife twists itself into your heart, jabbing at the secluded corners with an intensity that physically hurt. Your shoulders trembles, nails dig into the flesh of your palm; so deep and so much that it draws blood.

The stinging pain of a pierced palm is negligible in front of a trampled heart. The pain courses through every vein, every pore, every inch. It's a kaleidoscope of memories that you're pushed in, fantastical memories with which you had always deluded yourself. The very pictures are running before your eyes as you struggle to breath, the lump forms in your throat as the tear pricks your eyes and yes– they tumble down. Smearing over your cheek and trails to your jaw.

Its almost like a concussion, the only difference is that your heart is hurting. A rippling pain grapples your entire being and then your knees give out.

You shoulders slump down so does all the breeze as the humidity causes your hairs to stick to your skin. You have your mouth agape, deep breaths for calming yourself down but it doesn't work.

Nothing works. Nothing works today. Nothing will ever work.

How could it when the man you love, loves someone else? How could anything ever be fine when the man you swore your loyalty to, never cared for it in the first place? How would you ever be alright knowing this is a grave you have dug for yourself?

You bring up the poem before yourself again. The very words swirling before your eyes akin bees near a flower.

Have you lost your sense or rationality? It hurts. It hurts so much. Yet, you read the poem again.

And again.

And then, you chuckle.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, suppressing the sounds which escape yet you keep reading. The chuckles continue with the streaming tears and finally, when the moisture in your eyes renders you incapable of proper vision, your laughs die down.

"Ah– just how foolish of me..."

Truly, so foolish of you.

After all, you're just another concubine while she is his favourite.

563 notes · View notes

gureumz · 1 year ago

Text

wide open

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

premise: forced to marry a dictator king of a nearby kingdom, you're advised to shut up and take whatever king heeseung gives you and give him everything you have in return. in truth, you'd rather kill yourself than be married to this monster, but he has a way of changing people's minds

notes: fem!reader, dom!heeseung, royalty au, very slight angst, marriage of convenience/forced marriage, hate-ish sex, breeding, mentions of impregnation, use of pet names, unprotected sex, strangers to sort-of-lovers, mentions and descriptions of death and injury, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: sixth and final entry for my 1k follower special! this is the end for my two-month 1k event! i'm so thankful for the love this received and i'm excited to start my new series/anthology! i can't wait to write your other requests as well and bring you more stories you can enjoy!

it's making your stomach churn.

the way your father looks at you right now, as if he's sorry but not really. apologetic only because shouting in delight would hardly seem appropriate at a time like this.

you can practically see the sparkle in the East king's eyes.

"the decree says so," your father says with a sigh like he regrets to inform you of such news. you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from flinging the pewter cup filled with wine in front of you at him.

"the decree can say one thing but we can do exactly the opposite of it," you challenge, balling your fists in your lap. your father turns to you sharply.

"and then what, my love?" your father coos condescendingly. "race to see which one of our heads rolls off the gallows first when the new king of the West chops them off?"

you stare at your father, clad in his deep velvet garb, the lines on his forehead pronounced in the flickering firelight in his solar. you feel your whole face stiffen as you stare back at the spitting image of yourself, the exact source of the flame raging within you. you love your father and you know him. know him enough that it's no use arguing with him now. he would fling whatever words you had right back at you with double the force.

"you're lucky he didn't snatch you in the dead of night once he proclaimed victory," your father presses on. "you're lucky he's being diplomatic about it, issuing decrees so that all the four kingdoms are bonded legally to his whims."

"it hardly feels lucky being the sole maiden of royal blood fit enough to wed him," you spit back, turning away.

you hear your father lets out a breath and you can feel him walk away towards the large window that adorns the north side of his solar. you watch as he gazes out the glass panes, his back to you.

"he's a strapping young man, a talented general as he's proven, and truly the royal seed of his father before him," your father says, something unfamiliar in his voice. he turns back to you and you see, for the first time, the fear in his eyes.

"he turned on his own father, just as his father did with his father, took over that poor dead man's kingdom, and waged a war against his neighbors."

your father's voice trembles now.

"refusal would not only mean death, my rose," your father points out quietly, slipping in the endearment he so often used with you since you were a child.

"he would make sure you wished you were dead," he warns.

you swallow, letting his words sink in.

you think back on the past year, the months of hiding, the weeks spent banged up in the highest tower of your castle, the days of weeping as you waited for your father to come back, the minutes of terror as you were told the West king had emerged triumphant.

the second you saw your father, the Almighty Blessed King of the East, staggering through the palace gates, bloodied and broken.

that wretched tyrant from the West almost took your father away from you. giving yourself to him willingly hardly seems like the right move. but not doing so would mean a fate worse than death.

"is he really that terrible?" you ask, almost in a whisper.

your father walks up to where you're seated at his dining table. he reaches down and takes your hands in his calloused, war-scarred ones.

"i couldn't give you an answer to that if i tried," he explains. "i surrendered before i could get the chance to meet him."

"then how are you so ready to give away your only daughter, your only reminder of the woman you loved?" you implore, looking desperately into your father's eyes.

he shakes his head.

"this is how i want to remember you before you're whisked away into that cruel man's arms," your father says tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"feisty, with the zeal only your mother could pass on to you."

your eyes sting with tears at hearing your father mention his late queen.

your own mother feels like someone from a dream to you. she was there one moment and gone the next. much like yourself.

you let yourself cry silently, rising to let your father hold you in his arms.

---

the trip from the East to the West typically took a little over two weeks if no hiccups are encountered along the way. but you realized, merely two days in, that this whole marriage was cursed from the beginning.

it's as if the whole world conspired against this union, and you would have been grateful for it, but after days of running into problems (thieves and hunters and sudden thunderstorms and a pack of wild boars), the only thing you wanted was to be sheltered inside a warm castle room with a cup of spiced wine on your bedside.

so unbridled was your happiness when you heard a sudden shout from outside your carriage announcing your arrival at the gates of the West Kingdom castle. your two ladies-in-waiting riding with you had equally relieved faces, your hands immediately reaching out to grasp theirs.

"we're here, your grace," the younger of the two, yuna, whispers excitedly.

olivia, the older and more cynical one, swats at yuna's arm.

"don't sound so happy," olivia berates. "this is a dictator's castle we're entering."

yuna shrinks back in her seat and you reach over to clasp her hand reassuringly.

"i'm the only one fit enough to marry him," you remind. "he should know better than to lay a single finger on me."

olivia eyes you worriedly while yuna nods in agreement.

"i'll be alright," you say. whether it's to them or to yourself, you're not entirely sure.

the entirety of your royal party comes to a halt after what you felt was an hour's worth of treading on a steep incline and only then do you allow yourself to peek through the curtains of your carriage.

you gasp as you see the fog all around. you're aware that the West was the mountainous region of the four kingdoms but seeing the clouds form beneath the castle grounds made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"let's hope he doesn't throw me down the ravine," you mutter quietly. olivia and yuna exchange looks before giggling quietly.

you alight from your carriage a few more minutes later, the sudden light nearly blinding you. the sun is covered in dark clouds but the lack of any greenery to shield your field of view has you squinting to see in front of you.

"good morrow, your grace," a voice greets. you turn and see a smartly-dressed man approach, bowing deeply. he's adorned in the West king's court colors and it's then you notice the pin affixed on his chest.

"i'm lord jake, the royal chamberlain," he adds, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your skin. he straightens up and gestures behind him.

your eyes follow where he's pointing and you see a grand staircase leading up to the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the castle.

"let me assist you to the throne room," jake offers, holding out his arm to you. you take it, fixing a firm grip on his bicep.

"the king is waiting," he adds.

---

you let yourself be pulled through the towering hallways, resisting the urge to gape at the lavishly adorned walls. portraits of Western monarchs, legendary shields and swords owned by said monarchs, heavy purple drapery. jake seems to understand, walking at a pace that hardly indicates that you're in any rush.

you turn behind you to see olivia and yuna following dutifully, your other ladies and servants following close behind, flanked by guards both from your party and from the West King's.

you turn back ahead of you, catching sight of the heavy doors to what you can only guess is the throne room.

"if i may speak freely, your grace." jake turns to you slightly. you return his gaze and nod.

"of course," you say.

"you need not be nervous," jake reassures. "i know of the tales you might have heard about our king. but i've been a companion of his since we were boys. he does not hurt those who are not deserving to be hurt."

you remain silent for a few seconds as you continue to approach the throne room. after a while, you respond to jake.

"i appreciate the words of comfort, my lord," you begin. "but what indication do you have that i'm nervous?"

jake smiles warmly at you just as you reach the doors.

"you've been squeezing my arm since you've arrived, your grace," jake points out.

a pause. your face breaks out into a smile and jake mirrors your expression, both of you allowing yourselves a moment to laugh.

the guards by the throne room doors heave them open and you stand, stiff but adorning your face with a look of resolve. jake pulls his arm away and steps in front of you. just as the doors fully open, jake bows to the throne and then to you.

"my most revered King of the West, this is Princess _________ of the East and her royal household," jake announces in a booming voice that startles you slightly.

"princess," jake continues, turning to you once more.

"i present to you, the Most Royal King of the West, King Heeseung,."

---

everything was a blur after that.

you do, however, remember the silver shock of hair atop the king's head. the deep purple of his doublet. the tight black breeches and black boots laced up around his ankles.

you could see King Heeseung's lips remain unmoving as you curtsied deeply in front of him. you remember the feeling of fear, humiliation, and embarrassment at having to bow in front of a cruel tyrant.

you remember the hint of a smile grace his mouth as you straighten up. you remember the sweat gathering on your palms.

you remember muffled words being exchanged between the king and jake. you couldn't make out what they were saying with the blood rushing in your ears. you remember curtsying one more time before jake takes your hand and leads you and your people out of the throne room.

now, hours later, seated in front of a mirror in an airy room somewhere on the north wing of the castle, you remember to breathe, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"your grace, are you alright?" olivia asks from behind you, her hand pausing mid-brush as she gathers your hair in her other hand.

you meet her eyes through the mirror and nod.

"yes," you answer. "just a little...tired."

"i would assume so," yuna speaks up from the other side of the room, her slender figure bent over the numerous chests containing your belongings.

"i asked and it turns out we traveled close to a month," yuna rambles. "a month! who takes a month to get from the East to the West?"

you smile at yuna's shrill voice, a comfort from the eerie silence that seems to surround the castle.

"how are you two liking it here so far?" you ask, addressing your two ladies. a palpable pause comes over the room as you wait for their response.

"it's...alright," olivia begins. "better than i expected. i pictured brutes and barbarians to litter the halls but that's a misjudgment on my part, your grace."

"everyone seems kind enough," yuna chimes in. "the king barely said a word so i'm not sure how to feel about him yet."

"better to hold your tongue when speaking of the King of the West, child," you lightly berate. "we don't know who's listening."

olivia and yuna both nod in understanding.

a knock from the door to your room interrupts your discussion.

"come in," you call out. you turn to see another one of your ladies poke their head in before straightening up and bowing.

"your grace," jen, a sprightly lady-in-waiting of yours addresses you.

"i've been informed that the king asks for your presence in his study," jen relays, hands folded in front of her.

time seems to stop as you hear these words. you feel olivia grip your shoulder and you hear a clatter of something as yuna drops it. jen avoids your eyes as the four of you soak in her words.

"well," you say after a moment. "i better make haste, then.

you meet olivia's eyes through the mirror once more and she smiles encouragingly.

---

you ask jen to accompany you this time to give olivia and yuna time for their own personal needs. jen readily agreed, not more than five paces behind you as you make your way to where you were told the king's study is.

the castle is bathed in late afternoon light, a gentle breeze fluttering through the hallways. hardly any noise can be heard save for the occasional footsteps of servants and soft chatter from some of the rooms. your heart hammering against your chest is the only thing that fills your ears constantly.

"this is it, right?" you turn to ask jen. she nods as you two stop in front of an intricately carved door with a heavy golden stag knocker.

"you may take your leave," you tell jen.

"your grace?" jen asks, voice meek. "should i not wait for you out here?"

you shake your head. "i have a feeling neither of us knows how long the king will keep me in there."

jen opens her mouth as if to say something more but she stops, sighing. she nods and bows to you before starting down the hallway.

you turn away from jen's disappearing form, hand grasping at the stag knocker. you pound the heavy metal against the door three times before stepping back, waiting to be let in.

"enter," comes a voice from inside.

you swallow, reaching for the door handle. you give it a turn, the door easily swinging inward. you step through the gap, pressing your lips in a thin line as you anticipate what you might see.

the study is a respectable size, with bookcases adorning nearly every wall. a fireplace crackles with flames at the far left end of the room and a large desk rests in the middle of it all.

hunched over a stack of parchment is King Heeseung himself, a quill twirling lazily between his fingers.

your eyes meet and the king straightens in his seat.

"your grace—"

you pause, having both said the same thing at the same time. to your surprise, King Heeseung offers a smile. not knowing what else to do, you force an uneasy smile back.

"sit with me, my lady," he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you gather your skirts and perch yourself at the very edge of the seat.

no one speaks for what feels like an eternity. the king has paused in his perusing of the parchment in front of him and you've busied yourself with staring at your hands resting on your lap.

"there will be a welcome banquet tonight," King Heeseung's voice cuts through the silence.

"to celebrate your arrival," he continues.

you dip your head low.

"you have my gratitude, your grace," you say mechanically.

King Heeseung clears his throat. "i also arranged for the wedding feast to take place a week from now."

you allow yourself to gaze upon the King of the West, your eyebrows pinching together.

the king sees your expression and pauses.

"but if you wish to either hasten or push back the ceremony, then i'll take it into consideration," King Heeseung hurriedly adds, his sharp eyes rounding into a softer form.

you realize that sitting here, eye level with the king, that he's merely a man like any other. a man who smiles and startles and laughs.

your mind flashes back to your father's beaten and bruised face. your expression falls.

"no, your grace. a week from now is fine," you concede.

a long stretch of silence follows. you avert your eyes to the window to your right, gazing at the vibrant sky painted in the colors of the sunset.

"heeseung," comes the king's voice. you turn to him, a questioning look on your face.

"you can call me heeseung," he clarifies.

your face must have been of utter confusion because the king smiles again.

"we are to be wed, are we not? i would assume that you'd prefer a much more relaxed method of addressing each other." heeseung leans back in his plush seat, awaiting a response.

"of course," you agree. "and you may address me however you wish."

"my betrothed."

the two words roll smoothly off heeseung's tongue and a strange tug pulls at your chest. you nod silently as if to grant permission.

heeseung clears his throat again, pushing himself off his chair. you rise as well but you make no move to look at his face.

you see from the corner of your eye his hand reaching out to you.

"come. the banquet should be starting soon."

you shakily place your hand in his and he gently wraps his fingers around yours.

"after you, my dear betrothed," he says, motioning towards the door.

---

it turns out, a week flies by extremely fast.

you've managed to meet all of the people of importance in heeseung's court in that time, memorizing names and faces and feasting with a number of them.

heeseung hovers around, greeting you as you go about your day but ultimately keeping his distance. you wonder if you should be doing more to prepare for your wedding but you don't dare question any of heeseung's or his council's plans.

in a blink of an eye, the week is over and you're standing in the throne room, draped in your finest garments, practically glittering from head to toe with the jewelry you've brought from home.

heeseung stands tall and regal beside you, his hair perfectly done and his royal regalia adorning his broad frame. strangely enough, his face is what you anchor on for most of the ceremony—a blur of vows and prayers and oaths and finally, a restrained brush of lips to make things official.

the feast may as well have not happened with how blurry your memory of it is. you sat at the high table, watching the festivities but not really seeing anything.

that is, until a particular loud courtier knocks over a chair, bringing down plates and utensils as collateral damage in his drunken state. the noise jars you for a moment but heeseung lays a warm hand on yours to steady you.

and now, sitting on the edge of your bed, stripped down to your undergarments by your reluctant ladies, you shiver at the thought of what your wedding night may bring.

you've heard stories from your ladies and you've been taught enough by the tutors you've had over the years. but to lay with a man such as heeseung, it chills you down to the bone. would he hurt you? would he demand things from you? perhaps kill you?

you shake your head. it would do no good for him to kill you now. you're both in dire need of heirs for your respective domains, him especially now that he's deposited himself as the supreme ruler of all the kingdoms in your land. and even without taking children into consideration, would he really drive in his image as a tyrant? slaying his wife on their wedding night?

your thoughts are dissolved when you hear a knock come from the door. a second later, heeseung walks in, his cape and gloves amiss, and so are the tightly-laced hunting boots, leaving him in his doublet and breeches, wool boots covering his feet.

he almost looks...nervous.

"my b—"

heeseung pauses, taking in a sharp breath.

"my wife."

your head spins as heeseung says these words. you can physically feel the color draining from your face. when heeseung says it like that, it makes it more real, your fate looming over you like an impregnable fortress caging you in.

"yes, your grace?" you respond, trying to sound composed amidst your anxiety.

heeseung studies you for a second before sighing. he tugs his boots off, undoing his doublet right after. he shrugs the garment off, leaving him bare from the waist up. you gasp softly, abruptly turning away.

"you need not address me like that, remember?" heeseung reminds, trudging carefully before coming to a stop in front of you.

he reaches a hand out, attempting to hold a side of your face but you flinch, your whole body lurching at the feeling of his skin against yours.

your heart pounds as you quickly realize the fault in what you just did. you peer up at heeseung, eyes shaking with fear.

you expected anger, annoyance, or even confusion.

but all you see is a pair of despondent eyes looking down at you.

"why are you afraid? why do you fear me?" heeseung asks, voice quiet, defeated.

your insides churn as you try to find the right words. in a moment, the whole ordeal comes crashing down on you, the day's events flashing in your mind, a reminder that this is your life now. you're married to a dictator for the rest of your days.

"shouldn't i be?" you reply, voice stony. "i'd be a fool to not be scared of someone who murdered their own father and waged a war against the entire world."

heeseung remains silent. he heaves a sigh, turning away from you.

"it seems as if it was a mistake to ask for your hand in marriage," heeseung says.

a flicker sparks inside you.

"you didn't ask!" you cry out, voice accusatory. you stand, pulling yourself to your full height. this outrage has sprung from nowhere, seized you fully, summoning all the anger within you.

"you commanded me here, you took me away from my family, my home! i came all the way here to marry an evil man and he suddenly decides that marrying me was a mistake?"

"i gave up everything i had to fulfill a duty i was called to, that you called me to," you continue, placing yourself right in front of heeseung.

"i need you to prove to me that all this is worth it. that i did not come here to be some poor slave to a tyrant! show me and prove me wrong that you're not just some monster that nearly killed my father!"

you feel the air knocked out of you as a pair of lips press against your own. you cry out in surprise but something snaps within you, the final branch needed to let the fire catch and spread.

heeseung is kissing you and you're kissing him, your hands clawing at any part of him you could reach. his own fingers tug at your chemise, pulling it down your shoulders until it slips off your body completely.

"you're sick, forcing yourself on your wife like this," you pant against heeseung's mouth. he undoes his breeches, letting them fall.

"my wife is free to leave if she pleases," heeseung retaliates, kicking off the last of his clothes.

both of you are stark naked now.

you stand there, breathing heavily as you look into each other's eyes.

"your wife will not leave until you've bedded her and put an heir in her womb," you seethe. "that's all she came here for, after all."

heeseung grunts lowly, attacking your lips once more. he shoves you down on the bed, caging you in easily with his firm body. he runs his hands up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling at every piece of flesh he can dig his fingers into. you moan and squirm under his touch, an ache growing between your legs.

"you'll give me as many heirs as i wish," heeseung says as he kisses his way down to your neck. he suckles on a spot just beneath your jaw and the sound of defiance that you originally wanted to let out is caught in your throat.

"of course, so they can usurp you when it's your time," you say through your teeth.

heeseung says nothing, only looks at you, his face pulled down in an angry frown.

"listen here, darling," heeseung commands, voice dipping even lower. he pulls you by your thighs to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs open.

he glances down and you stare at his face as it turns into a look of intrigue, his eyes transfixed on your core.

you're soaking wet, clenching around nothing as your husband continues to survey what's between your legs. he looks back up at you, a hand reaching over to grasp your jaw in one large hand.

"my father was a madman and so was his father before him," heeseung begins and you feel something prod at your entrance. you gasp as half of him is pushed in with a single swivel of heeseung's hips.

"maybe i'll turn out to be one too, but right now, all i did was clean up the mess he made," heeseung continues, fully burying himself inside you. your legs tremble at the painful stretch and all you want is to hide your face away in the sheets but heeseung's firm grip on your face won't let you.

"he started this war," heeseung says accusingly. he draws back, allowing you momentary relief before thrusting back in, a half cry, half moan escaping you.

"yeah, my sweet?" heeseung pauses to address you momentarily, his eyes dark and evidently hungry.

"feel good?"

he doesn't wait for an answer as he lets go of your face in favor of holding your hips tightly between his hands. heeseung sets up a ruthless pace, mouth hanging open as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

you grit your teeth and refuse to look away yourself, gazing upon the face of what might be another in a line of mad kings. your husband, half of who you are now, half of what your children will be.

the thought sickens you to your stomach.

but the delicious fill of his cock deep in you has you quivering with want, breathless with desire. if this is how good it feels to fuck a mad king, then maybe you are the perfect maiden to wed him.

well, not so much a maiden now that he's buried in you to the hilt, one of his hands grabbing at your breast.

his words 'he started this war' echo in your brain, but a shift of heeseung's hips has your eyes rolling back in your head, that thought forgotten momentarily.

"come on my sweet, look at me," heeseung pleads gently. he leans down, nearly flattening his form over your own. he continues to fuck you, thursts shallow in this new position

you hook your own arms around heeseung's neck, meeting his eyes.

"you don't fear me, do you?" heeseung asks laboriously through heavy breaths. "you never did."

you withhold an answer, leaning in to press your lips roughly against heeseung's instead. he growls low in his chest, his hips moving even faster than they already were.

you keep your mouths together, tongues lapping over every expanse of each other. a shiver runs through you as you feel the friction against your core increase, turning rougher and rougher as heeseung seems to lose himself in you.

you pull away, running your fingers through the hair on the back of heeseung's head. you tighten your grip on the strands and heeseung hisses.

"no," you finally answer. "i'm not scared of you so fuck me like you mean it."

the world seems to give out from all around you as the last words escape you, your hips pinned down painfully against the bed. your legs quiver as you feel heeseung pound into you, faster, rougher, harder. you let a sob rip out of you, your whole body seizing as your release slams down on you.

heeseung looks at you and only you, eyes wide and ravenous.

you clench around heeseung and he collapses over you, hands braced on either side of your head, his face scrunched up in pleasure as you feel him throb deep in you. you feel his thick seed warm up your walls and you gasp softly, your body finally relaxing.

you lay there, weak and unmoving, as heeseung pulls out and rolls off you. he comes to rest on one side of you, his hair tickling your shoulder. without another word, heeseung pushes himself up and retrieves his discarded breeches off the floor.

your heart sinks as you think that he's about to leave. your throat tightens, the thought of being used just like that, despite being his wife, his queen, repulsing you so badly.

but heeseung doesn't walk out the door. he loosely strings up his breeches and walks over to the vanity on the other side of the room. you failed to notice when you came in the first time the bowl of water and washcloth resting beside it.

heeseung wets the cloth, wringing it momentarily before walking back over to you. you've propped yourself on your elbows now, watching his every move.

"sit up, my sweet," heeseung implores gently, seating himself beside you.

you oblige, wincing at the slight sting between your legs as you shift into a more comfortable position. heeseung starts with your face, smoothing over your cheeks with the cloth, the cooled water bringing out a sigh of relief.

he moves to wipe at your neck, then your chest. he peers down at you, laying a gentle hand on your thigh.

"let me clean down there too," heeseung says. you nod, feeling vulnerable under his watch. you part your sore thighs, letting heeseung swipe away at the stickiness.

heeseung finishes and returns the washcloth to the bowl. he picks your chemise up on the way back to you, placing it in your hands. you wordlessly stand, pulling the thin fabric over you, overtly aware of heeseung watching you from where he sits on the bed.

you turn back to him and he's gazing up at you, expression softer than all of the other times. he reaches a hand out shakily, as if hesitant, and you take it, stepping between his parted knees.

he places his hands on our lower back as if to cradle you. before you could stop yourself, you let your hand smooth back some of his silvery locks of hair.

"he—my father—sent those decrees of war out when he realized i was on to him," heeseung mumbles.

you nod gently, signaling him to go on.

"i found out he'd been plotting this war for years right under my nose. i was brought up to command my father's army but i never knew it was for this," he continues.

"i begged him to stop but you can't reason with someone mad," heeseung says, voice shaking.

looking at him now, eyes so doe-like and piercing straight through your own, you realize that underneath what you called a tyrant, he was just a boy willing his father to do right.

"i had to end it one way or another," heeseung continues, head bowing.

you pull him to you, cradling him against your chest. you feel heeseng's arms tighten around your torso.

"but by the time i had dealt the final blow, it was too late. the decrees were sent and i had no choice but to fight the war he left me with."

your chest constricts.

"why not just take the decrees back, admit surrender?" you ask quietly. heeseung looks up at you and you're struck by how handsome he looks when he's not acting like the king he is.

soft lips, the delicate turn of his nose, fluttering eyelashes.

"i was already a kinslayer and a kingslayer. i couldn't lose everything after that," heeseung whispers, brows pinched together as if begging you to believe him.

a flurry of emotions course through you. despite this, you smile apologetically.

you bend down slightly, placing a gentle kiss on heeseung's forehead.

"i don't fear you," you whisper against his skin. you feel him deflate beneath your touch.

"but there is so much more i need to understand about you, husband."

heeseung pulls away and nods. he takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles.

"and i'll try my hardest to make you understand. i don't expect forgiveness, just your open heart and open eyes to see who i really am."

you afford yourself another smile. you lean down once more, kissing heeseung softly.

"they're wide open, my King."

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #w: heeseung

2K notes · View notes

gingersnap-17 · 1 year ago

Text

Unexpected (Sukuna x Female Reader)

Hello everyone! Okay, I know that Sukuna literally reigned terror over practically everyone when he was a human in his human form. BUT, I feel like he is just a softie towards his lover and child. So that is pretty much what I wrote today! I also tried to find the artist to give them credit for the cover art, but I couldn't' find anything. Full credit goes to the artist of course! I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: After being Sukuna's preffered concubine for almost a year now, Y/N starts to notice some changes going on with her body. She knew what this meant, and knew she had to tell Sukuna about what is going on.

Word Count: 2052

In the dark and twisted world where sorcerers and curses roamed, Y/N found herself in a peculiar and perilous situation. She was a concubine, living a life of luxury within the grand, ominous palace of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses. Sukuna was feared and loathed by all who knew of him. With his two faces, four arms, and a mouth on his stomach, he was a symbol of terror on Earth, known for his merciless cruelty.

Yet, Y/N was different. She was his favorite, though no one could ever understand why. Sukuna would often call her to his chamber, spending hours in her company. It was as if a glimmer of humanity remained buried beneath the layers of his demonic exterior. Y/N knew better than to resist her role as his favored concubine, for disobedience often meant death. But as the weeks passed, Y/N felt a strange and sudden unease.

The first sign of change came when she realized her body was not quite as predictable as it had been. The morning sickness, the fatigue, and the subtle changes to her body all pointed to one conclusion – she was with child, and the father was none other than Sukuna himself.

As she ventured into his chambers one evening, her heart pounded with anxiety. He sat on a lavish throne, crowned in arrogance. His red eyes met hers, and he noticed the worry etched across her face.

"What troubles you, my dear?" Sukuna inquired, his voice as cool and dangerous as ever.

"I... I have news, Lord Sukuna," Y/N stuttered, attempting to maintain her composure. "I am with child." Sukuna's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his monstrous features. The room seemed to grow colder as an eerie silence settled over them. Y/N couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine.

For a moment, she feared the worst, that his anger would flare up like an inferno, that he would blame her for this unexpected turn of events. But then, something unexpected happened. His lips, both the one on his face and the other on his stomach, twisted into an unsettling smile.

"You're carrying my child?" Sukuna's voice held an inexplicable mix of amusement and curiosity.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, my Lord. It is your child, a gift from our time together."

Sukuna's laughter echoed through the chamber, a haunting sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, well," he mused, "this is most intriguing. It seems fate has woven a different path for us, my dear concubine."

She couldn't fathom his reaction. What did he mean by "a different path"? Did he intend to harm her or the child? The rumors about his cruelty raced through her mind, but his next words caught her off guard.

"From this day forward," Sukuna declared, "you shall no longer be just my favored concubine. You shall be the mother of my heir, and my wife. I will get rid of the other concubines as soon as I can."

Y/N was stunned, her mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Sukuna had just said. Becoming his wife and the mother of his heir was a fate she could never have imagined. She had heard of the power and ruthlessness of the Cursed King, but this turn of events was beyond her wildest dreams, or nightmares.

"Lord Sukuna, I... I am honored by your decree." Y/N managed to say, her voice quivering. Her thoughts raced, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this dramatic change in the notorious sorcerer.

Sukuna's demeanor shifted as he looked at her, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "You are different from the others, Y/N. You possess a unique strength that intrigues me. You've not only survived but managed to capture my heart in your own way. I am curious to see how this new chapter in our lives unfolds."

As Y/N tried to wrap her mind around the astonishing twist of fate, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Fear still lingered in her heart, for Sukuna's reputation was not one that could be easily forgotten. His sudden declaration to make her his wife and the mother of his heir was both a blessing and a curse. She knew she had gained a measure of protection, but she also recognized that her life had become infinitely more complicated.

Over the following months, as her pregnancy progressed, Y/N's relationship with Sukuna underwent a gradual transformation. He showed a surprising tenderness and protectiveness toward her, which left her both relieved and confused. The other concubines, who had once been her rivals, were swiftly removed from the palace, their fates unknown. Sukuna's sole focus was on Y/N and their unborn child.

Not only did she recognize his change, but she noticed a change in herself towards him. She had fallen for the strange man. Obviously before she became pregnant she had some sort of feelings for him, but this was different. She felt that this could have been love. Was it even possible to love the king of curses?

As the months passed and her belly grew round with the child of Sukuna, Y/N's feelings for the Cursed King deepened. She found herself captivated not only by his power and enigmatic nature but by the glimpses of vulnerability he occasionally revealed. Despite his terrifying reputation, she saw in him a complex soul, and she couldn't help but empathize with his struggle to balance his monstrous identity with the spark of humanity that still flickered within him.

Their relationship became more than a mere arrangement of convenience. They spent hours talking, sharing their hopes and fears, and gradually, the walls that had separated them began to crumble. Y/N saw moments of gentleness in Sukuna, moments when he would softly caress her growing belly, whispering endearing words to their unborn child. She realized that, like anyone else, he longed for connection and love, something that had been denied to him for so long due to his horrifying appearance and terrifying powers.

Y/N's once-terrifying life as a concubine had turned into something unexpected and complicated. She was no longer just a plaything of the Cursed King; she had become his confidant, his companion, and now, the mother of his child. As she considered the strange turn of events, she wondered if her love for him was mutual. Did Sukuna truly care for her beyond their unborn child, or was this newfound affection merely a consequence of her pregnancy?

One fateful night, as they sat together in his chamber, Y/N decided to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind. She watched him, her heart racing, as she gathered the courage to speak. "Sukuna, I can't help but wonder about your feelings for me. This change in our relationship, it's... unexpected. Do you love me, or is this solely because of our child?"

Sukuna, the Cursed King, regarded her with his distinctive dual gaze. His red eyes bore into hers as if searching for something deep within her soul. The room was bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant howling of the wind outside.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that she had never heard from him before. "Y/N, what we have is complicated. I am not like other men, and you know that. But since the moment you told me you were carrying my child, something has awakened within me. I can't deny that I feel a connection, a bond, that goes beyond mere duty or convenience."

Y/N's heart leaped at his words, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She had never expected to hear such vulnerability from the feared sorcerer.

Sukuna continued, his voice softening even further. "I may not fully understand what love means, for it is a concept foreign to my nature. But I do know that I care for you deeply, Y/N, and I want to protect both you and our child. That much, I am certain of."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she heard his heartfelt confession. In that moment, she realized that the man known as the Cursed King, feared by all, had a heart that could feel, even if he struggled to comprehend it fully. She leaned in, her hand gently reaching for his, and their fingers intertwined.

"Thank you, Sukuna." she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I care for you too, and I want to be with you, not just as the mother of your child but as your partner, your confidant, and your love."

Sukuna's dual-faced smile returned, a rare and genuine one. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. "Then, my dear Y/N, let us navigate this strange and perilous world together, as partners, as parents, and perhaps one day, as lovers. If that is what we become at some point." Those words gave Y/N hope for the future with him.

As the last few months of Y/N's pregnancy approached, the bond between Y/N and Sukuna only deepened. Their love was a complex, extraordinary force that defied the dark and twisted world they inhabited. Their child was a symbol of hope, a testament to the possibility of light even in the darkest of places.

On a stormy night, Y/N went into labor, and the estate was in chaos. Sukuna, who had never witnessed such an event, stood by her side, both anxious and determined. The sound of her painful cries filled the room, which worried Sukuna as her labor progressed. He was used to the sight of death, but the sight of life happening before his eyes, made him awestruck at the beauty of labor.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N sighed in relief as the cries of a newborn filled the air, echoing through the chamber. Y/N held their child, a tiny being that was so fragile and new in the world.

She looked up at Sukuna who had stayed almost silent during the whole thing, hoping he would say something.

Sukuna, the Cursed King, gazed down at the child in Y/N's arms with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His four eyes, were fixed on the newborn, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world had disappeared, leaving only the small family in that chamber.

For all his terrifying power and monstrous appearance, Sukuna was utterly captivated by the sight of his child. He carefully reached out to hold the child, and Y/N gently handed their son to him. The baby grasped one of his father's finger with a tiny, delicate hand, and the Cursed King's lips curled into a rare and gentle smile.

"He has my extra pair of arms." Sukuna said, releasing a soft chuckle, his voice filled with wonder. “He does seem to have my hair, but he does have your face.”

Y/N watched the father and son with tears of joy in her eyes. It was a moment of profound beauty in the midst of their dark and twisted world. She had never imagined that she would be sharing such an intimate and heartwarming moment with Sukuna, the most feared sorcerer of their time.

As the hours passed, Sukuna and Y/N took turns cradling and caring for their newborn. Their love for each other and their child grew stronger with each passing moment. They named their son Kaito, signifying a new beginning, a departure from the cursed legacy of the past.

As the two raised their child overtime, Sukuna was technically a changed man… for them at least. He still killed and reigned terror as he pleased, but the second he would return home to his wife and son, he showed his deep care and genuine love (as much as he hates to admit it) to them. Sukuna might be the king of curses, but he has a special place in his heart saved for who he calls his family.

2K notes · View notes

mydearlybeloathed · 6 months ago

Text

── 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Long ago, you were cursed to one day sleep for an eternity—unless you’re presented with true love. You thought destiny couldn’t find you on the high seas, but when you're sorely mistaken, it's up to a certain swordsman to get his act together and rescue you from eternal sleep.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zoro x princess!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: tw blood, sleeping beauty au, meddling faeries here and there, stubborn swordsmen and lovelorn princesses, no use of Y/N, light angst, major fluff

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: falling - timothy cole

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢,

a very many years ago, twelve Wise Women from the Isle of Perminion—faeries was a more precise term, but they felt the label struck too much fear into their mortal fellows, and in this economy, faeries need willing clientele—were invited to the presentation of a young princess from an old kingdom. Each bestowed upon her gifts coveted by all. Beauty, grace, love, and the like.

It was the thirteenth Wise Woman who took it all back.

“You dare not invite me to this celebration of life? Fine. Forget me. But not before I give the princess my own gift. She’ll grow beautiful, wise, and loved, as my fellow Wise Women decreed—but one day she’ll lose all that to the prick of a spinning wheel and fall dead to my power!”

Your life had just begun, and had already gone to shit (forgive such undignified language, unfit for a princess, but really, you felt you deserved some leeway).

The whole of the kingdom knew the witch’s speech by heart, saying a prayer each night in the hope that their princess would be fortunate enough to never cross a spinning wheel in all her life. And from the rail of her tower’s terrace, the princess dreamed of someday joining them. Not in their prayers, but in celebration that even the worst curses are no match for the blessed princess of their kingdom. Blessed, as she once was, before the outrage of Carabose found her.

But that was only the dream of a foolish child.

Foolish dreams. You were cursed not only in the very literal sense but also by the paranoia of your parents, the king and queen of your revered nation. Not a soul outside the castle walls had seen their princess since the day of her introduction—the day you were cursed to one day cross the spindle of a spinning wheel, and die.

Well, not die. Your godmother, Rosalie—the twelfth Wise Woman and the only one that mattered in your opinion—had gifted you a chance at survival.

“The princess will not die upon pricking the spinning wheel. She shall only sleep till… till she receives a display of true, compassionate, unbridled love.”

It was the first thing Rosalie could think of that would lessen the blow of the witch’s spell.

And yet despite this security, your parents locked you away, terrified of what would happen to their little princess should she cross that fated hunk of wood. Honestly, it was beyond embarrassing being destined to be bested by a hunk of wood, but that’s just your luck, you supposed.

It was also just your luck that one day when you’d just barely given up all hope of living a fulfilling life, a certain crew of pirates found your kingdom, caused the uproar of the century, and managed to help you escape all in just two days.

With the wind in your face some months later, it seemed all your dreams of grandeur were coming true; far away from your castle, you sailed the seas with real friends at your side. You never worried about your curse, for why would you ever find a spinning wheel at sea? It was silly to fear the fate set before you.

Rosalie always told you that destiny cannot be fought, but look at you now, proving her wrong.

(It’s like you were asking for things to go wrong).

The day was windy and bright, with sparse clouds high above and cool grass underfoot. The Going Merry rest at the docks of the little coastal city, Usopp making repairs in record time. You couldn’t help but wish to go out and explore, taking full advantage of your freedom.

You took Zoro with you, of course. You’d never leave the ship without your loyal guard at your side.

Zoro. What to say about Zoro? In your opinion, he was probably the love of your life, if he ever got over himself and admitted he loved you too. Either way, you would never picture life without him by your side, even if he brushed off all your teasing advances with a roll of his eyes.

“Here,” you motioned him to your side, feeling warm inside with the familiar bump of his shoulder against yours. You picked up one of the ornate golden rings displayed at the market stall before you, grinning like a devil as you lifted your hand to measure it up against your skin. “What do you think? I prefer silver, but gold would match your earrings.”

Zoro, lovely and clueless Zoro, only tilted his head, aforementioned earrings chiming against one another. “I think it's nice, but why d’ya wanna match?”

By the time you slipped the ring on your fourth finger, he saw where this was going. “Hmm, no reason.” You handed the ring back to the seller and smiled up at Zoro’s perturbed, blushing face.

“Sorry, you’re just so easy to tease.” He grunted in reply, drawing another smile out of you. Your eyes got all misty, like they always did when you looked at Zoro, and the words escaped your lips before you could stop them. “Go out with me.”

Zoro kept his gaze firmly on the sky, his shoulders far too stiff to be comfortable. “We’re… too busy for stuff like that.”

It all felt like a mildly disappointing routine at this point; you asked, he dodged around giving you an explicit no. Perhaps if he actually got the nerve to deny you, you’d have given up, but Zoro always left you with that small hope that one day his answer might change.

Still, something in you held the strong consideration to give up. Lovelorn and yet hopelessly deep, it was a tempting option. Surely, pursuing someone so adamantly disinterested was a lost cause. But what if, you dared to call back, silencing your doubts.

“C’mon,” you relented. “I need some new fabrics.”

You scooped up his hand and he let you drag him down the street to a little boutique on the corner. The door rang when you entered, and Zoro tried to ignore how your hand still clung to his even as the door clicked shut behind you.

“I wanted to make Nami a new dress,” you said as you beelined for the shelf of various fabrics. “You know, to make up for the one I ripped.”

He didn’t try to pull back, only standing at your side as you skimmed your free hand over a set of pinks. “Still don’t get how you ruined it that badly. It was practically in two pieces.”

“You were there. I was in a tree.”

“But why?”

Your silly smile rose to meet his gentle grin. “Because I wanted to? You could have joined me, but no, you stayed all alone on the ground like a loser.”

“If I was in the tree, who would catch ya’ when you fell like an idiot?”

With a scoff, you let go of his hand and picked up some pink and blue fabric, failing to see him watch you longingly. “Touche.”

Zoro was never sure what to make of you—you were like nothing he’d ever faced before. The day you waltzed into his life and started up your little flirtation game was the day Zoro found his most formidable opponent in the love you shared so willingly.

There was your habit of getting into trouble too—trouble he often dragged you out of—which didn’t help much either.

Zoro thought princesses were meant to be graceful and poised, as Vivi was, but you toppled those expectations at the very foundation. At this point, it wasn’t really a question of if he returned your feelings, but if he was able to voice it. As far as Zoro was concerned, the answer would always be a firm no.

As you started to stack the pink and blue on your arm Zoro reached to take them from you, draping the fabric over his shoulder. He returned your appreciative smile with a slight nod, heart warm at how you doted on him with your eyes alone.

Yeah, it was better this way—you waiting for something that would never happen, and him standing stoic at your side, nothing but a loyal companion.

“Miss.” Your voice, calling to the cashier, broke him from his less-than-happy thoughts. “Have you got any purple?” You swiftly turned back to Zoro with a brief, “Robin said she likes purple.”

The cashier looked up from her book, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I just finished some this morning,” she said with a grin, getting up to lift the gate in the counter and motioning for you to follow her into the back of the shop. “I’ll show you.”

Zoro’s skin prickled as you glided after the cashier, shooting him a smile as you disappeared through the door. He was left standing with the odd sense that something was wrong.

Maybe it was the way a sudden draft hit his back despite there being no ventilation, or maybe it was the fact that you walked under a ladder earlier just to piss him off. Or, perhaps, it was the flash of green in the cashier’s eyes as she passed by a mirror.

Whatever it was, he stayed put, trusting he would be there to help you the moment you needed him. Zoro was always there when you needed him. Neither he nor you had reason to doubt this fact.

You felt completely at ease as you entered a small, dim room full of messy shelves, half-knit sweaters, and heaps of yarn. “Here,” the cashier pointed to a table at the center of the room. “Is this the shade you had in mind?”

A grin split your face as you felt the fabric, marveling at its softness. It was high-quality stuff, definitely not cheap. But you thought of Robin, who had done so much for you, and felt it was worth the possible loan from Nami.

“It’s perfect,” you replied. “How much?”

“Oh, it’s on the house.”

You startled instantly, eyes darting up to find the cashier absent from your side despite her voice being right in your ear. “Come again?”

“You can have it.” Turning slowly, you found the woman sorting through a surplus fo purple fabrics. “I have plenty.”

A gentle laugh escaped you. “Thank you so much. My friend will love it.”

The cashier swiveled on her heel and leaned against the table, head cocked to the side. Had her eyes always been so vibrant an emerald? They almost seemed to glow. “No, thank you, Your Highness.”

Chills ran up your spine at the formal address, all air expelled from your body as you choked out, “Pardon me?”

Caught up in the green of the woman’s eyes, you didn’t notice a misty tendril swirling up your body till it clouded your vision, directing your captured attention to the corner of the room. There in the shadows was a contraption you’d never seen before, yet you knew its purpose instantly.

The purple string being woven gave it away. How had you not noticed the spinning wheel before?

The fabric slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor in a lump. You darted for the door, yet your feet never moved an inch, cemented in place. Was that a tear on your cheek? No, it couldn’t be. You never cried. And yet, a salty streak ran from your eye to your jaw now, as if your body knew what your mind denied: your fate had caught you.

“Stop.” You weren’t sure who you spoke to. Your feet that started to creep toward the spindle? The husk of a woman, possessed by some evil spirit of a bitter sorceress? Destiny herself? Whoever you ordered refused to listen as you closed in on the wheel and raised a steady hand.

A half-lived life flashed before your eyes. A princess sat alone in a room, loneliness her only companion. A girl stood on a ship, tasting freedom for the very first time. A woman stared at a man, knowing this was what love felt like.

A light pinch shocked your whole body, and you finally broke from the spell to find your index finger pierced into the sharpest of spindles. A cackle echoed from every corner of the room as the cashier collapsed on the spot.

One thought broke through your slowly fading mind. Traitorous, wobbly feet took you to the door, flinging it open and leaning you against the doorframe. Your heavy eyes ached, Zoro’s voice so far away. You didn’t feel his hands on your arms as you sank to the floor.

Your labored, panicked breathing matched your flickering, terrified eyes. “Spindle.”

And you lay fast asleep in Zoro’s arms a moment later, peace written in your features. Your chest rose and fell gently. Zoro gazed down at the sleeping beauty, uttering your name over and over, practically paralyzed… Until he noticed the tiny bit of blood dripping from your fingertip, and he looked into the ajar room. A spinning wheel stood right in his line of sight, the wheel creaking as it spun slowly.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You had never told any of your friends about the curse, too embarrassed to do so. Was that a lapse in judgment? Perhaps, but you were too asleep to know.

Now Chopper stood at your side, holding his stethoscope over your heart. He set the scope around his neck a moment later, putting his hooves together nervously. Chopper felt the whole crew staring at his back like a brand. “I think—Well, I think she’s sleeping.”

Luffy had been deathly silent through the whole ordeal, not taking his eyes off you since Zoro carried you back to the ship in a hurry. “Then let’s wake her up.”

Sanji slapped a hand over his mouth before Luffy could start yelling, shoving out a sigh. “We tried that, didn’t we? Marimo shook her for five minutes before we could pry him off her.”

Everyone waited for when the swordsman would quip back his own insult, but the usual pattern was thrown off by a strange silence. Even Sanji looked around, confused to find Zoro nowhere in sight.

Sanji blinked a few times before he placed his hands on his hips. “Now where the fuck is he?”

From the corner, seated in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, Robin spoke up for the first time all evening. Her thoughtful eyes stared into the space ahead of her. “I saw him leave a moment ago. Said he had to get something.”

Not even a second later did Zoro barge down into the galley. In one hand he held a spinning wheel of all things. In the other, he held a woman’s arm in a vice.

Nami jumped to her feet, aghast. “Zoro, what—?”

He nearly threw the woman before them all, his brows drawn into an expression of ruthlessness. “Well? What did you do to her?!”

With her eyes wide and breaths short, the woman violently shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean!”

Sanji stepped forth intending to sock Zoro in the face for scaring the woman, when Zoro turned on him and spat, “This woman’s the reason she’s—she’s sick!”

That was all it took for Sanji, somehow still poised, to face the terrified woman now encircled by a crowd of frowning pirates. Sanji grabbed the woman’s arm, not as harshly as Zoro had, but just as firmly. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” she sputtered, gazing over at where you laid limply on the table. “I… I remember her. She wanted purple fabric.”

Zoro nearly had the mind to throttle the woman. “You led her into the back room and minutes later she stumbles out and—and sleeps!” He slammed the spinning wheel on the ground, startling everyone around. “She said spindle. What’s this? Some sort of… torture device?”

The woman did nothing but blink at him. “It’s a spinning wheel.”

“What’s it do?”

“It spins.” Suddenly the woman had the nerve of a warrior, righting herself to face Zoro’s glare. “I don’t know what you think I did, but I didn’t. All I know is I led her to the fabric and…”

All her words fell short as she stuttered to find them, her brows screwing together. “And I don’t remember. I—I don’t remember what happened.”

Sanji seized her shoulders and leveled her with a look. “I need you to remember, madam. It means that girl’s life or death.”

The woman stood frozen, stunned as she stared into Sanji’s eyes, her cheeks turning a concerning shade of pink. Nami rolled her eyes and promptly shoved him out of the way, snapping in the woman’s face.

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Nami asked sharply.

“I mean I don’t remember.” Their captive grew increasingly frustrated, and maybe a bit nervous as well. “I walk that bitch into the back, I black out, and I wake up to this guy dragging me out of my home!”

Just as Zoro gasped (“Bitch, huh?”), Robin stood and slowly made her way toward the spinning wheel, running her hand over the wood and grazing a finger over the sharp needle. Inspecting the spindle close, she found a bit of dried blood there. She hummed, keeping everyone on edge, and went toward your sleeping form, grabbing your hands and turning them over. “Ah-ha…”

Zoro stepped forward, anxious. “What?”

“I think she poked herself on the spindle.” Robin made it sound so simple.

Nami tapped her finger to her nose as she pondered. “But why would that make her… sick?”

“Poison?” Chopper offered at the same time Robin answered, “Magic.”

“We don’t have time for speculation,” Sanji gritted as he fished around his pockets for his lighter, cigarette between his teeth. “Can we test for what poison it could be?”

As Chopper started to ramble about some tests he could run, Zoro stared daggers at the spinning wheel. Now, he wasn’t superstitious, but perhaps he was a little stitious, because the longer he stared at the wheel the more he remembered about what transpired in that shop.

“Why would it be magic?” Zoro asked suddenly, silencing the room.

All eyes found Robin, who was now sitting on your bedside holding your hand. “She’s a princess, right? The princesses in the stories I’ve read dealt with a lot of bad magic.”

Nami shook her head. “This isn’t a story, Robin.”

The debate went on like that, really going nowhere at all, the cashier woman tentatively slinking away during the rabble and inevitably going forgotten. Luffy ignored them all, approaching you and lifting your hand to inspect as if he’d find some kind of sign in your pierced fingertip.

And just maybe, he did find something. “Hey, Nami?”

She ran a hand over her face as Sanji and Zoro took jab after jab at one another, the stress of your condition getting to the both of them. “Yeah, Luffy?”

He followed a very excited thought bunny here and there, after princesses and stories until it hopped to a stop in front of a certain royal friend of theirs. You appeared next, smiling like he wished you would now. “Vivi? Yeah, I know her. We go way back.”

“Call Vivi,” he ordered, closing the discussion as he too sat at your side and started to poke at your sides, as if tickling you would be enough to break this spell.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Often, your dreams gave way to the most horrible nightmares, and always, you would find refuge in the realm of day. Until now. No matter where you ran a firm sheet of black blocked you in. Air as frigid as the Arctic enveloped you. No friend in sight, no solace from the cold.

Finally falling still, you blinked, and you stood in the middle of your tower, back in your kingdom. The high-reaching walls created that familiar dome painted with the long-forgotten stories of your people. The marble floors chilled your bare feet. Your bed leered at you from the far wall, whispers inviting you back into its clutches that would send you spiraling further into this forever sleep.

Panic surged up your chest till you gasped for air, losing your grip quicker than you could keep up with. Laughter taunted you from every corner till you started to scream and shout and call out for anyone to help you. But the door held fast against your pulling and thick briar thorns wrapped all around the balcony.

Still, you clawed at the spiraling thorns, prying to see through, blistering your palms on their heated stalks. Your whimpers were followed by a loud, echoed roar, a harsh gust of wind cast down from the wings of a soaring lizard you’d only ever dreamed of.

You whirled around to catch a better view of the creature’s mass, clutching at your heart as those gargantuan claws settled down on the tower of your bedroom. Two nostrils blew smoke that encroached the balcony and the depths of your room. The dragon’s eyes held no mercy as she gazed down with malice.

This curse played a cruel joke, trapping you within the bars of your own mind, turning your fantasies against you. Your every turn showed you more wonders turned horrors the longer you searched for them; the clouds formed words you wouldn’t dare to repeat, the grass down below burned in confusing patterns, and the voices of those you held dear echoed from somewhere nearby.

Your fretful mother. Your paranoid father. The gossiping handmaidens. The superstitious priest. All lamented your fate, screaming how they knew it was a matter of time before the curse finally found you, tearing into you for ever even dreaming of leaving. You really should have stayed. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d piped down and stayed.

Then it was Luffy, Nami, and Usopp. “Why did you ever ask her to join us?” “Not sure. I thought she was something she wasn’t.” “She’s just a liar.” “A dead weight.” “A curse.”

Robin’s voice pierced her eardrums as your knees hit the ground. Why had she ever given you the time of day? Some sheltered little princess without enough common sense to know a spinning wheel when she saw one. And Chopper, his sweet voice turned sour. How pathetic. Beaten by a piece of wood.

The worst of it all was when his voice broke through all the rest despite how she tried to ignore that rumbling tone she once learned to crave. Zoro’s words were direct and clear. She’s finally gone. God, I was this close to just silencing her stupid mouth myself.

To think he would ever actually love her? How foolish of you.

The walls of your dreams closed in swiftly, caging you in and suffocating your hopes till you were left a husk, floating amidst the torment.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Vivi had been silent for so long Luffy wondered if she’s gotten distracted and walked off. Nami shuffled closer to the snail transponder. “Vivi?”

“Sorry,” her voice reappeared, a slight crack to it. “I just… you said she pricked a spindle?” Nami hummed in agreement, and Vivi expelled a long sigh. “She’s been asleep since? You can’t wake her?”

“That’s what we said,” Zoro snapped, shutting up at Nami’s sharp glare.

“It’s just… I mean, I’ve only heard stories. She only talked about it once, in a letter she wrote to me. That’s the only way we could talk since her parents locked her away—”

“Stories about what, Vivi?” Nami guided the tense princess back as Zoro started to pace back and forth, his hands raking at his hair.

She was silent for two whole seconds, and then, “The curse.”

The whole room fell still.

“They say a dark Wise Woman cursed her when she was baby, so that one day, she would prick her finger on a spinning wheel’s spindle… and die.” She rushed to amend herself, “But then another Wise Woman fixed it. She won’t die, but fall asleep… until someone shows her an act of true, unconditional love.”

For a long while the whole room is held captive by silence, eyes flickering to where you snoozed nearby. Zoro couldn’t look away. The way you looked so peaceful pained him in a way, knowing you were trapped in a place he couldn’t save you from. At least the tiny grin on your face gave him confidence your everlasting dreams were nice.

“How do we do that?” he heard himself asking.

“I—I don’t know. I thought it was a story to justify her isolation—”

“Well, obviously not.”

“Zoro,” Nami’s words cut sharply. “Take a walk.”

“But—”

“Walk.”

He stood with as much noise as he could, knocking his chair back and stomping out of the room. Zoro stopped just at the door to cast a look at you, highly aware of the eyes of everyone on him. His hand closed around the doorframe, his heart tightening, and he left without another word.

Letting the others see how much he cared for you would just make everything infinitely worse. Zoro couldn’t handle that level of teasing on top of your sickness.

Zoro stepped out onto the deck, now basked in moonlight, and rushed to lean against the railing. His skin felt feverish in contrast to the cold dread coursing through his veins. Why hadn’t you said anything? Sure, he probably wouldn’t have believed you, but maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have let you leave his side so quickly.

And now this? This formidable task would supposedly save you. An act of true love? What could that even mean?

With his eyes on the sky, Zoro let out a shaken sigh. He would tear every one of those stars down if it meant you would be okay. Would that be enough for this curse? Or would he have to take down the moon as well and lay it at your feet?

No… no, certainly nothing he could do would ever be strong enough to save you. For so long he’d put off your advances, too stubborn to face the emotions building up in his heart… Zoro doubted he held the strength to perform such an act, and that notion threatened to crush him.

He too had read the stories Robin spoke of; stories of princes who swooped in and saved the princess with a kiss. You needed one of them—those princes—and Zoro was far from royalty.

If anything, he was the knight in rusted armor who failed.

But, an idea crept out of the depths of his mind, crawling to the surface till his heart pumped at the possibility. He was no prince, no knight, and no cursebreaker—but Zoro was a hunter.

He burst back into the galley with a crazed look in his eyes. “Vivi?”

Her voice crackled out from the startled snail. “Yes?”

“Where do we find this Wise Woman?”

Not even a day later, the crew set out on the sea once more, a new destination in mind: the secluded island of the so-called wise and elusive faeries.

Zoro stood at your bedside, too afraid to reach out and take your hand, making a solemn oath.

“I will find a way to save you if it is the last thing I do.”

If only the swordsman would have known—the strongest of magic lies in promises. If only Zoro had the eye to see the tendrils of magic curling around your sleeping body, tightening around you as the curse shivered away from his declaration. Spirits hissed from the corners fo the room and shied away from the mere passion behind his eyes. Somewhere distant a sorceress coiled her fists around nothing as her hold on the slumbering princess slipped through, little by little. Could he have fathomed it, he would have known he held more honor than the mightiest of princes.

But he couldn’t fathom it, so he failed to notice the magic encircling his heart, seeking out any cracks in his steel-strong pride. There were none to find. The magic had nowhere to go, and until the hunter’s pride wore down, nothing would change.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Your godmother turned out to be a real bitch, by Zoro’s standards. First off, she was waiting for them on the shore, like a creep. In her witchy get-up, Zoro could have mistaken her for the one he meant to run through with his sword.

“What’re you supposed to be,” he sneered as she made her way up the gangway, practically making herself on home on the deck.

She met his glare equally. “I’m your only hope, dear. Now wipe that look off your face. You’ll get stuck like that.”

Rosalie took control of the situation in her stride, heading down to the galley and acting as if she owned the place. Only Nami seemed to be put off by this, standing at Zoro’s side with her arms folded as the rest of the crew gathered around the Wise Woman.

“She was always too stubborn for her own good,” said Rosalie fondly, a tiny grin on her lips. “Luckily for you, Carabose never strays far from the island. It’s the source of our power, and the poor, scaly, greedy thing would just die if she lost her magic.”

The radiant faerie pulled her dark curls forth, scrunching up her angular nose as she thought of the witch to blame for her dear princess’s condition. She sucked in a breath and released it harshly, suddenly appearing much older than before. “I must thank you. My princess deserves so much more, and you managed to give it to her, if only for a little while.”

“You talk as if she’s dead,” Nami grumbled. The look Rosalie gave her then was far less than comforting.

“Well, unless you have a source for true love nearby, she’s as good as it.” Zoro’s hand closed around the hilt of his sword, his eyes slamming shut as that grief washed over him again. Rosalie’s eyes flickered to him, an unnoticeable shine in her eye and a tilt in her lips.

(Wise Women see much more than the normal eye, and just now Rosalie spotted the remarkable fuchsia tendrils of a very special kind of magic, so rare many thought it mere myth… yet it was swirling around the swordsman’s heart).

She turned to face the crew in their entirety, her expression grave. “Only the caster may raise a curse unless it is broken according to certain parameters. I may be able to deal with Carabose through negotiation. We… have a history.” Rosalie ruffled slightly. “She might have mercy and relinquish the curse herself.”

Zoro scoffed, drawing the faerie’s attention. “And if she doesn’t?”

Rosalie’s eyes flashed. “Then I’ll cut her down and hope that is enough.”

Sanji shook his head, blinking like he was forcing himself to deny Rosalie’s beauty. “And what will we do?”

“You’ll be with me. If Carabose dies and she does not wake… one of you will have to make a sacrifice.” Rosalie assessed them all with cool eyes, reveling in their discomfort, till she cracked a smile and tossed her head back. “I jest, I jest! However, we will need to come up with a display of true love after the deed is done and our princess has not woken.”

Zoro continued to bristle at the faerie’s coolness, grinding his teeth as she floated about the room, mumbling to herself. He dropped his swords on the table with a clang, startling Rosalie. “I can kill the witch myself. Give me ten minutes, and it’ll be done.”

“I know you are desperate to save your friend, Swordsman,” Rosalie simpered. “But you’ll be staying here.”

His blood was boiling at this point. The plan at hand was hardly what he’d had in mind. Zoro shook his head firmly and grasped his composure tightly. “I need to do something.”

“And you will! You’ll be guarding our princess.” Rosalie dared to set a hand on Zoro’s shoulder, making him go all stiff till he caught her steely gaze. “Carabose controls many of the spirits of the island. I wouldn’t put it past her to send one of them to whisk the princess away. You perhaps have the most important job of all.”

Yeah, right. Zoro locked eyes with Nami over the faerie’s shoulder, sharing a silent agreement as he shrugged the woman off. “Nami can stay behind—”

“No.” Rosalie’s grip tightened around his shoulder as the temperature dropped instantly. “You will stay, and Nami will come along.” Her smile felt sinister. “I am Rosalie of the Wise Women, and you are just a man with a sword. I have conquered kingdoms in the name of her parents. What have you done?”

“I’ll kill the witch,” he said weakly. “And I’ll save her.”

“Kill the witch,” she mocked him. “You mean to tell me that’s an act of true love, swordsman?” Rosalie leaned in close, her voice as soft as wind. “How can you say you love her when you let her go, Roronoa Zoro. Now stay put and don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

She swept away as swiftly as she’d closed in, leaving Zoro breathless and unsteady. Rosalie clapped her hands together and faced Luffy with a grin. “Now, Captain. You understand the plan?”

Luffy looked all around, making eye contact with each of his crewmates, till he found Zoro, who leaned against the wall having some sort of crisis. Words rose up to his tongue, ready to lash out and tear the faerie to bits when he saw it. The tendrils were growing brighter. Slowly, he turned to Rosalie, who met his gaze unblinkingly. “Yeah, I got it.”

Usopp shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, Luffy, I don’t think—”

“I trust her,” he declared, and that was that. Usopp nodded, followed by the reluctant rest. Zoro’s eyes flashed up to meet his captains, unsure about how confident Luffy was, but not willing to ever doubt his friend.

“Splendid,” Rosalie simpered. “I’ve no doubt Carabose is waiting for us, so we’d do best to keep up our guards.”

As she rounded everyone up and led them out of the galley and off the ship, Nami brought Zoro aside, her brows furrowed. “I don’t like this,” she murmured. “But I trust Luffy.” Zoro grunted as if to agree, his eyes unfocused. Nami gave his shoulder a pat as she passed him. “Just stay with her. Who knows, maybe she’ll know you’re there.”

And Zoro found himself all alone, the ship a deathly quiet he had never witnessed before. He could hear his every breath and feel the rock of the ship. A creak came from somewhere nearby, pinching at a sensitive part of his mind. Zoro took a few weightless, shallow steps down the hall, his hand running against the wall, until he came face to face with the door of your bedroom.

Too long he stared at the door before he shoved at it, swinging it open wide. Zoro surged inside with so much gusto his muscle memory urged him to reach for his swords, but he’d left them in the galley. Instead, his hand grasped at air whilst he vacantly stared about the room.

You lay soundlessly atop your bed, hands crossed over your chest like a corpse. Zoro instantly moved to adjust your arms, laying them instead at your sides. There, that was better.

His brows screwed together; where a smile had earlier been gracing your lips, a firm frown now replaced it. Your face contorted, your mind plagued by an enemy Zoro couldn’t fight. Ensuring he didn’t make a sound, Zoro took a knee and drew close to your face, folding his arms on the edge of your bed and resting his head there.

Sweat beaded along your forehead, distress clear on your face. Without thinking Zoro reached to wipe it away with the back of his hand, initiating a kind of intimate contact only you had ever thrust upon him. He shocked himself, frozen with his hand on your cheek before he cleared his throat and returned to his original position.

Hours he stayed like that, eyes dutifully watching over your face, pulse spiking at every sign of distress caught in your features. Your brows pinched together, lips parting as a strangled sigh left you.

Perhaps… Zoro threw caution to the wind and reached for your hand. You didn’t budge, but—and maybe he was seeing things—it looked like your face softened up a little bit. So he stayed just like that, rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

He lifted his gaze to the window, where the sun was beginning to set once again. “Wonder if the others found that witch yet…” They could be fighting for their lives, if Rosalie’s dumb plan fell through. He should be out there. Zoro’s eyes flickered all around the blue sky, worry eating at him, till he finally rose to his feet and dropped your hand.

“I’ll be back—” Your instant whine had Zoro practically jumping out of his skin and descending back to your side all at once. “I mean, they can probably handle it. I’m still here.”

Your face returned to a state of calm as if you’d never moved at all. He scoffed out a laugh, murmuring fondly, “You little shit.” Again, little shifts in your expression hinted at a nightmare. “What’s goin’ on in there, huh?”

(Your dreams had taken a drastic turn. Dragon fire shot past your head, close enough to singe your eyelashes. The broom you’d taken up as a weapon splintered against the scaly back of your guard. The serpent burned away at the roof of your room, circling like a vulture, taunting echoes slipping off her forked tongue. As your eyes continued to flutter, sleep beckoning like a long-lost friend, you didn’t dare to succumb to the call. Should you sleep, you felt certain you would never, ever wake up.

Yet, you were so tired. It couldn’t hurt… if you rested your eyes… if only to escape the taunting of his voice. He’s glad you’re good as dead. He never had to deal with your pining ever again.

Every echo of doubt had you believing that just maybe, it might be true, sending you deeper into this eternal insanity).

“Zoro.”

The swordsman didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. “I’m here.” If his words had any effect on the state of you, it didn’t show. You only rustled sharply, eyes flickering all around behind your eyelids… until you fell deadly still. “Hey now. Don’t slip away just yet.”

Again, he took up your hand, willing you to keep giving him signs that you weren’t too deep into slumber. “An act of true love. Sanji could probably pull one of those out of his ass.” That thought sent him on a tangent, pictures of your effervescent smile flashing across his mind.

Days ago, he’d been so secure on never revealing his feelings to you. The pair of you would have lived all your lives revolving around one another until you inevitably gave up, and it would be for the best. Right then and there, though, Zoro felt certain if he never looked into your eyes again he would never forgive himself for every time he turned you away.

“I’ve always wondered,” he whispered. “Why you don’t just go after the lovecook. It’d be a hell of a lot easier than dealing with me.”

Zoro made himself comfortable, leaning his head on the bed. “If… when you wake up, let’s go do something, like you wanted. You like painting, right? We’ll go painting. I’ll probably offend the very act of art, but maybe you’ll laugh at me, and it’ll be okay. I’ll throw paint in your hair and you’ll punch me, and it’ll be a real good time.”

Nothing. Your chest rose and fell at a concerningly slow pace. “When we get you back… I’ll apologize. For being an idiot.” Had your lips always been so dry? “But you have to wake up to hear it.”

Your condition remained unchanged… save for the stark silence coming from your nose, and the eerie stillness of your chest. Zoro’s gut churned. You were only meant to sleep, so why weren’t you breathing?

(The sleeping beauty dared to lie down, the tower burning all around her, at ease among the encroaching flames).

His hand felt at you heart, his own stuttering at how faint yours was beating. You looked so blank. Not a flaw in your void expression. Zoro, on the verge of pleading to gods he didn’t believe in, again reached for a sword that wasn’t there as a bone-chilling chuckle echoed from every corner.

“You can’t save her~” sang a ghostly voice, right into his ear.

Zoro slammed his ear down on his shoulder to rid himself of the shiver running down his spine. Whipping around, he ground his jaw enough to hear the chip in his teeth. “Watch me, witch.”

Her laughter mocked him. “How? You’re no prince. No knight. What’re you going to do, warrior? Kiss her and hope your honor is enough?” Carabose appeared in a misty shadow behind him, surging through his body like a specter, sending him keeling to the floor. “The princess’ soul has long belonged to me. True love doesn’t exist. Rosalie should’ve known that.”

“You’re wrong!” Zoro bellowed, something deep in his heart constricting, building up a fire in his bones.

“Oh,” the witch hummed darkly. “I’m sure. This isn’t a fairytale, boy. Kisses don’t wake princesses… and simple swordsmen don’t save them.”

The witch’s cackle faded even as he slashed at the air with his arm, wild eyes searching till they landed back on you, unnervingly calm. If Carabose’s intention was to have her spirits discourage Zoro, she fairly succeeded; but she also succeeded in something else—giving him something to prove.

His shoulders sunk as he just stared, taking in the hopeless sight before him. It was much too late to confess to his sleeping beauty. Even if they did find a way to wake her, who was to say she would still want him? What if some hero swoops in and takes her away?

He would be deserving of that fate, Zoro thinks, his foolishness crashing down on him even as he falls to his knees at your side once more.

Make a note that Roronoa Zoro doesn’t believe in magic. It’s all make-believe to help children see the good in the world. He knew that full and well, deep in his heart. But something he knew with far greater certainty is that he would do anything to have the chance to love you as you loved him.

Magic wasn’t real. But what if? Zoro felt silly for daring to think it, but even then his hand reached to cup your cheek. Wasn’t there truth to every story? Kissing princesses didn’t make the world all right. Fairytales don’t come true.

But the sun was setting on another day with you held down by this curse, and Zoro felt pathetic and weak and he had no other plan at hand.

“I’m an idiot,” he confessed the obvious. “I never choose what’s easy except when it comes to you. Which made it difficult, which defeated the purpose and—Never mind.” Peaceful despite the circumstances, you never stirred an inch. “Please wake up. Please… Or I’ll look really, really stupid.”

One hand on your cheek, the other bracing himself against the bed, Zoro pressed the most delicate of kisses atop your cold lips, a horrifying shiver shooting through him at how it felt like kissing a corpse. Lingering, he drew back, breath staggered at how nothing happened. You didn’t shoot awake. Not a muscle in your body twitched. Your eyes didn’t move.

“Please,” he mumbled over your lips, his forehead colliding with yours in a desperate plea. “Wake up. Wake up so I can tell you I love you.”

Unseen magic exploded around the room, wrapping around the swordsman and the princess as pride and honor were laid down at the feet of a curse that died with the far-off scream of a thwarted witch.

(The sleeping princess blinked awake, squinting from the blinding light filtering in through the open ceiling. The dragon faded to mist and the fires blew out with a hush. Words the princess had only ever dreamed of hearing echoed down to her ears, and everything went white).

You awoke from the most horrible sleep, your bones and body aching as something like a cold fever washed over you. A shallow breath fizzled out of you right before your lungs brought in as much air as they could take. Eyes flinging open, your surroundings came into focus in an instant, and you found a figure looming over you with the funniest expression.

Zoro’s face was white as a sheet, eyes wide and brows vaulted, his lips parted. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and a laugh left you before you could stop it. You smiled with no abandon as Zoro’s hand traced your jaw. “What’s this about?”

And it all came rushing back like a punch to your gut as Zoro’s eyes bore into you. Your lips fell into a shocked gape. “You kissed me?”

“I… uhm…”

You slowly sat upright, hands in your lap, head tilted as you admired the man before you in a light like never before. “You love me?”

His eyes pinched shut, and you feared he regretted his confession. Perhaps it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Maybe he didn’t mean it and you’re stupid for ever thinking he might—

“I do.” He looked as breathless as you felt. “I do love you.”

An eternity could have passed and you wouldn’t have known nor cared, all too caught up in etching his face into your memory. Hesitant, you rose to your knees, bed covers shoved aside, and your hands went to cup his face tenderly. “Tell me again.”

Warmth flooded his cheeks as your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, drawing his eyes back to yours every time they dared to flicker away. He melted into you, one hand falling to your waist and the other cupping behind your thigh. “I love you.”

Another smile burst across your face. “I love you too.” You leaned in close, nudging your nose at his cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Zoro cracked a grin, his eyes fluttering. “Okay.”

“And kiss you.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’ll never sleep again. I’m only going to kiss you until they pry me off you, my handsome, lovely, cursebreaker swordsman—Mmph!”

His lips cut you off, surging forth to catch you unguarded. Zoro’s arms pulled you in quickly as you pushed in just as firmly, hands raking through his hair. Years you waited and years you longed. Countless nights you laid awake intending to give up come morning, only to fall back into his eyes.

All for this. The day your soul knew would come even when your heart was doubting.

“I love you,” you broke away to say, simply because you could.

And no witch, no curse, no destiny would ever keep you from telling him.

Giggling at nothing at all, you leaned into him and wrapped him up in your arms, head falling to his shoulder. Your eyes drifted behind him, your whole body freezing at the sight in the corner. “What the fuck is that doing here?”

Zoro nearly broke his neck whipping it around only to choke on a laugh. The spinning wheel sat humbly to the side, purple string still running through it. “Probably was a bad idea to keep it in here.”

“You think!” You lightly flicked his nose and got a little grunt out of him. “Let’s burn it.”

A bonfire awaited the crew as they returned, their egos bruised and spirits low despite their defeat of the Wise Woman Carabose. Every last one of them nearly screamed when they saw you stoking the pillar of fire with the brightest smile on your face, Zoro’s arm round your shoulder.

You teetered this way and that, tossed around as they hugged the life out of you. Laughter came easy and the night drew long, stories of their victory recounted and certain questions about your recovery proposed.

“You needed an act of true love,” Chopper wondered, never straying far from your side as he clung to your arm. “So what happened?”

You weren’t at all subtle in your direct look at Zoro, who coughed and averted his eyes to the suddenly very interesting ground. “Someone got off their high horse and—”

“All right!” Zoro laughed awkwardly. “Cook, where’d you put the extra sake?”

Nami silently awed as she dragged you and Robin aside, begging to know exactly what happened. Somewhere through the night, Usopp looked around, lowering his glass from his lips. “What happened to Rosalie?”

You tripped over nothing at that name. “What? My godmother?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “She helped us find Cara-bitch, or whatever… When did she disappear?”

Everyone took a moment to think, blinking quickly as a single answer was formed: they didn’t know.

“That sounds like her. I just wish I could’ve said hello,” you said.

Zoro hovered at your side, his hand ghosting over yours. “She was weird anyway.”

“Hey!”

The fire fizzled out somewhere close to dawn, though the celebration seemed far from over. Your eyes felt heavy and your body too, but every time you fell too much into drowsiness, cold terror tore through you. You weren’t joking when you declared you’d never sleep again; the prospect petrified you.

“C’mon,” Zoro muttered when your head fell to his shoulder and shot back up for the sixth time. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve slept enough—”

“That’s not what I said.” Zoro stood and offered you a hand, a gentle smile warming you from the inside out. You shoved your hand into his and started the trek below deck, departure unnoticed.

As you passed your bedroom, you stopped and stared at your bed just three seconds before you bee-lined to Zoro’s door, leading him along behind you. Dazedly, you waltzed around each other, preparing for sleep even as your heart pounded in your head.

“What if I don’t wake up?” you wondered aloud as Zoro sunk into bed.

His eyes found yours and you swore you fell even deeper. “You will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

That fact was one of the only real things either of you knew, and for now, it was enough.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

#zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #x reader #reader insert #zoro fluff

454 notes · View notes

kookiestiddies · 4 days ago

Text

1 | first sightings

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: Enemies With Potential | Fluff, Angst & Smut

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, mild injury, reader is grumpy, mentions of flashing (???), attempted humour, if you see any typos and grammatical errors no u didn’t

A/N: there'll be no fixed schedule for this bcs I have commitment issues rip so good luck to ya'll honestly. happy reading! feel free to lmk your thots :8) 👍🏼

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

3 years ago...

Fuck my life!

That’s what you think to yourself as you try to catch your breath; an impossible feat considering the fact that you’re lugging along 3 monstrous and overpriced textbooks. And not to mention the fact that you’re racing across campus because it’s only the first day of your college career and you happened to be late.

Sure, maybe it could be considered your fault because you hit the snooze button too many times over the course of an hour before your class actually started. Maybe you only further sealed your fate by taking too long in the shower. However, in your defence, it should be decreed a social injustice for classes starting earlier than 11 am to be acceptable. Rest and hygiene come first about all else, yup yup.

You were so focused on reaching your destination that you missed to sound of the bell ringing overhead the campus coffee shop entrance on your side, signalling someone’s rushed exit.

So imagine your surprise when you find that your race to the class that’s 2 minutes away from starting is brought to a halt when you’re suddenly sent flying perpendicular to the direction you were going in by an unseen force only to land harshly on the lawn in front of the coffee shop.

You see it all happening in slow motion: you’re rapidly reaching the ground but not before you jut out your arms to hopefully prevent your face from getting too intimate with the muddy ground. Your ultra-premium textbooks leave your grasp to land in-

Oh NO!

A puddle.

While you sit there in shock, barely processing what just happened, you hear someone swearing nearby from the direction of the coffee shop. You look up towards it to find a pair of doe eyes looking back at you. The owner of said doe eyes is crouching ahead of you; a boy.

Before you can take a good look and process him, he’s already up on his feet and quickly picks up a bag scattered haphazardly next to him. You snap out of trance and call out to him as he makes a move towards the main campus buildings.

“HEY!”

He hesitantly stops and looks around at you. “What?!”

What’s with his tone?!

“What do you meant, What?! You knocked me down! My textbooks are ruined!” you say as you get up haggardly, brushing off the mud on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, but I’m already late for my class, I’ve got to go,” he replies quickly and starts scurrying away.

“WHAT?!” you yell to his retreating back to no avail. Oh, now you’re mad.

The boy’s hurriedly retreating figure comes to a sudden halt and turns around, speeding towards you with his hands in his pocket.

That’s more like it. Get your ass over here and apolog-

“I’m sorry about your textbooks, hope this covers it!” he rushes out and shoves a wad of cash in your hands. He doesn’t wait for your response before he darts back towards the campus building.

You’re too stunned. You are simply. Too. Stunned.

An angry pout forms on your face as you mull things over and count the cash that he generously thrusted to you. A whole 50 bucks. The sheer audacity of that stupid boy.

What the heck were you supposed to do with 50 bucks?! Each textbook cost atleast 90 bucks!

You pick up your bag and your now wet, smudged and ruined mammoth of a textbook set with a groan and angrily huff your way towards class, which you are now officially late for.

Imagine meticulously planning out your first day at college from hour-to-hour, only to end up becoming the loser that shows up to class late with a set of muddy textbooks, ruined hair and shockingly dirty clothes.

Operation Have A Positively Impressionable First Day of College: FAILED.

You would continue your run to class if it weren’t for the fact that your knee was sore as a result of you getting to 2nd base with the grass which led to you limping the rest of the way.

Maybe people are kind, maybe it was the fact that your anger and annoyance were monstrously visible to anyone passing by, but thank fuck, everyone moved away from you as you stormed your way to class. Thanks to your encounter with that fuckhead of a boy earlier, your mood is now at its lowest setting and you simply cannot tolerate anyone else for the rest of the day probably. You curse him under your breath the whole way.

It can’t possibly get any worse, right? Wrong.

When you finally make it to class, you were 4 minutes late and three significant things happened one after the other:

#1 You had to face the embarrassment of 200 pairs of eyes, plus the lecturer’s, witnessing your walk of shame as you cautiously entered the class like a gazelle amongst a pack of lions.

2# All the seats towards the front were taken up so you had no choice but to find an empty seat towards the back of the class.

3# By your luck, you realised too late that you were seated right in front of an annoyingly familiar face.

He tried to hide from you.

You know this because he looked at you straight in the eyes, visibly panicked and lied his head on the table with his hoodie and arms shielding him, pretending to be asleep.

Tch, pathetic!

Thankfully, the rest of the class went by as smoothly as can be, though you did feel the heat of someone staring at you at the back of your neck. You tried your best to ignore it by forcing all your attention toward the lecture.

When the end of the class came around, you were quick to exit the class.

Frankly speaking, you’ve had enough of today.

As you turn down the hallway, you bump into Nayeon, a friend you’d made during the freshmen orientation.

While you were still deciding on whether you should project a more introverted or extroverted personality onto all the new people you’d be meeting in college, Nayeon made the choice for you by taking up your neighbouring seat and starting a conversation with you about the shitty AC in the hall. In less than an hour, you’d already gotten to know all about her eight exes and how two of them almost gave her STDs and one of them almost gave her a whole baby. You were still contemplating which one would have been worse.

“Y/n! Oh, thank god you’re here! Y/nieee, today has been such a nuisance and it’s barely 12 pm!” she cries while sliding her arm in yours as you both start walking in sync towards the college cafeteria.

Hah!

“You know, Mercury must be in retrograde or something because my day has been awful so far as well,” you say with a downward tilt of your mouth.

“Oh? Does that have anything to do with your whole ‘I’m 27 years old with no prospects’ cosplay thing you’ve got going on? Lovin’ the limp by the way. It really adds to the whole vibe” she retorts with a cackle. You can’t help but giggle along with her until you remember the reason for your haggard get up.

You haughtily recount your morning’s incident to her and heave up your textbooks, now reduced to a damp and muddy stack of papers.

“Ew, what was his problem?!” she asks and you giggle at her disgusted look. You’re both quiet as you reach the cafeteria and get some food on trays. “C’mon, the gang’s over there,” Nayeon says as she leads you to a table that seats her friends whom you had also briefly met during orientation.

You take your seat and set your food on the table along with your ruined textbooks. Hoseok peeks a curious look at them, you notice, but he doesn’t say anything. But his curiosity is abundantly loud, so you answer it for him anyway.

“Some turdball knocked me over this morning on my way to class and they dropped right into a puddle,” you say with a pout.

“Oh? Does that also explain the Mother Nature cosplay you’ve got going on right now?” he replies with a cheeky grin and reaches out to you to pluck out a piece of grass that you hadn’t realised was in your hair

Geez, this is so embarrassing.

“Uh-huh, totally. It’s avant-garde baby.” you retort which sends the table in a fit of giggles, including Hoseok, whose laughter rings louder than the rest.

“Also, what’s up with you guys and cosplays? Nayeon made a comment earlier too,” you bring up. Somehow, it causes Jimin to spiral into a choking fit and the rest of the group starts knowingly laughing.

“Oh, you’re gonna LOVE this!” Chae bellows towards you.

She’s interrupted by Jimin who whines “Chae, for the love of God, can you please shut up about that? It’s literally not even funny anymore!”

“Oh yes it fucking is! Go on,” Nayeon urges Chae on.

“It’s an inside joke right. When we were in high school, he took part in a random Joker & Harley Quinn cosplay competition with one of our other friends. This idiot here was Harley and he flashed the whole audience with his ass hanging out from under his skirt the whole time!”

The whole table hollers with laughter, except for a violently blushing Jimin. In between your giggles, you ask Jimin “Did you guys win though?” The table erupts in another round of laughter as Jimin mutter an angry “No.”

“Oh my god, there’s even a video! Nayeon, where’s that video Jungkook took?” Hoseok yells.

“STOP!” Jimin yells but it’s too late.

In lighting speed, Nayeon whips out her phone and shows you what truly is Jimin’s ass hanging out from under a skirt as he prances about the stage in true Harley Quinn fashion. There’s another handsome boy next to him dressed in a Joker costume. “That’s our friend, Taehyung, by the way,” Chae adds.

“Jesus fuck, do you have that video on standby or something? You pulled it out so fast,” Jimin whines at Nayeon. “I have it saved as my live wallpaper babe,” Nayeon replies and sends a flying kiss towards Jimin which earns her a swear thrown at her face in return.

“Hey, where’s Jungkook? His class should have ended by now, right?” Hoseok asks Chae.

“Hmm yeah, he was in the same class as Y/n actually. Did you see him?” Chae turns to you. Your attention is still focused on the phone in Nayeon’s hand as you reply, “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied to notice. Besides-,” you lift your head to look at her.

“-I don’t even know what he looks like,” you say with a smile.

“Look out for someone who looks like me, duh. I may be cooler than him, but we’re still twins,” Chae teases.

“Well, speak of the devil, here he comes,” Hoseok says and shifts his attention to look over your shoulder.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I had to sort something out with my lecturer,” an eerily familiar voice says behind you.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

You don’t want to turn around.

“We gotta head out soon for the . By the way, say hi to Y/n, she’s watching your video of Tae and Jimin at the comic fest,” Hoseok says with a bright smile.

“Huh? Hmm, kinda weird that you came over just to watch Jimin hyung’s ass reshaping the world’s seat,” the new guy acknowledges you and you feel him approaching from behind.

“You’re all horrible,” Jimin says.

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

Fuck.

You have to turn around now.

You’re turning around.

“Hi, I’m Jung-” he stops halfway and his eyes widen as he realises who you are.

You fake a wide smile and say “Hi Jungkook. I think we’ve met before,” you say harshly and look at him straight in the eyes. You’re pouring every bit of spite you have crawling around your body into this look. And it seems to pay off with how Jungkook gulps loudly and looks at you with doe eyes.

The whole table has turned to witness your interaction now.

“Oh, so you have? Small world huh,” Chae chirps.

What a small world indeed.

Your moments away from blowing a fuse and cussing him out in front of your friends who are watching your interaction, when the unthinkable happens, too fast to be stopped.

Jungkook immediately gets down on his knees in front of you, brings his palms together and shrieks out, “I’M SORRY!”

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook college au #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook soft hours

180 notes · View notes