#knight/prince coming next for sure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 2 months ago

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Knight of Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.

“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”

And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.

Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”

“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows.

“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.”

The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”

After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.

The first being that he’s loved you ever since.

Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.

He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”

Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.

Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”

Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered.

“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that?

“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”

Oh.

And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.

Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone.

Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to.

Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway?

Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!

“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”

“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly.

Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”

At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”

“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants.

And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird.

The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.”

And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-

You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.

Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is.

Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.

Gojo visited you the next day, too.

And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him.

Every day.

When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.

And it showed - oh, how it showed.

It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest.

He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course.

Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty.

“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”

“Snitch”

“Harlot.”

“Knave.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”

Well, was.

It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement.

“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”

“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”

Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title.

“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”

“Satoru- wait.”

He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.

Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice.

But no, that was not his place.

His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.

“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.

“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.

Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“Satoru.”

And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.

Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why.

Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals?

No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.

You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents.

And that left you with…him.

Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that.

“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”

He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”

“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”

“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”

“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together.

He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”

“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now.

“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”

A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.

“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”

“There you are, your highnesses!”

Satoru.

You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”

Thud!

Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.

The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot.

The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so.

You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”

But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.

No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”

“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.

Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises.

Him?

“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”

In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.

But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”

“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”

He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”

“I should send you to the gallows for this.”

Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”

And for the first time in so long, it feels normal.

The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants.

“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.”

“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”

“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.

And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.

“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”

The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”

Gojo. Gojo.

And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet.

So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him.

Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”

Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess.

You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.

All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you.

“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.

“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”

For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat.

And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared.

Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons.

Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow.

And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.

The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there.

It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.

Sneaky princess.

After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself.

But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this.

Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well.

And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence.

It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is.

After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night.

Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives.

Fuck, had it really been days since already?

It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-

He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal.

And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him.

With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies.

“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up.

Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”

Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”

“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”

“Ahem.”

There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin.

Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip.

Schwing–!

“Toru- no.”

Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.

Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked.

But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings.

The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.

“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”

Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.

Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.

But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him.

It takes a beat. One. Two.

He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter.

“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”

“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”

The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal.

“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”

Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”

“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”

“Let me.”

Your brows raise, “What?”

“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat.

Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure.

He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers.

Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions.

He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.

The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”

“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”

“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”

What?

“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before.

Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might.

But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation.

“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”

And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”

Stood stock still.

Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him.

His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.”

And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-

“Please.”

Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”

“The same hand.”

“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze.

Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”

The other man breathes, “Repent…”

“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”

CRUNCH!

Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief.

He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm.

Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince.

Repentance.

“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name.

So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-

Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”

In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out.

None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.

It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.

“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”

“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”

“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”

Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse.

But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting.

And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo.

Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago.

It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball.

You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there.

Manners. Posture. Eye contact.

It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?

“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”

Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?

Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are.

“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”

There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it.

“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.

Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals.

The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?

“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”

There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed.

All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”

You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor.

If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for.

“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features.

And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”

“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”

“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”

“As if you deserve any bett-”

Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.”

Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.

“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.”

Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out-

“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”

You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat.

Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.

“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room.

The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”

Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”

And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this.

“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”

So you do.

You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled.

Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser.

Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster.

If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster.

Nothing else mattered.

Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night.

Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.

“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee.

It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.

“Satoru-!”

It wasn’t.

Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe.

Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”

He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”

Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow.

“May I have this dance, my princess?”

You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”

But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune.

And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.

“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear.

You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?”

“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”

“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”

And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.

You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”

“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”

“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”

He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.

You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”

You breathe out, “Satoru…”

“-and maybe in another life-”

“Maybe in this one.”

Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”

You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer.

Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety.

His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw.

“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not.

Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.

Even if it was to purr out—

“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”

“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”

He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”

He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all.

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”

“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”

Panting, “K-kiss?”

“Mhm.”

Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-

A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.

The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?

“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”

But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.

“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”

Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.

“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer.

“Impatient.”

As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient.

As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-

“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.

Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear.

Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!

A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.

Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.

You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”

And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-

“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”

You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb.

Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-

“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”

“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-

And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.

Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.

“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”

Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was.

Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!

You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”

“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.

“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”

Fuck.

You were fucked.

And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-

“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”

But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.

“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle.

Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-

“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”

And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now.

Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”

Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”

And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-

“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-”

It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot.

“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe.

Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”

You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”

“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”

The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-

Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.

High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub.

“M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”

And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch.

“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”

More ravenous.

Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants.

He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second.

But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.

And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.

Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists.

Fucked out.

“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”

Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.

Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”

And use him you were.

Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”

Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly.

All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!

All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.”

That’s what finally gets his attention.

You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.

Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.

Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge.

Staggering.

One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine.

“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-”

And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.

It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-

“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”

Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”

Getting the princess to say please?

He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu-

Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.

He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.

“S-Satoru did you just-”

“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”

N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-

“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”

You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”

He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips.

Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-

“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”

He sounded hypnotized.

“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.

“No.”

And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-

You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?

You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs.

So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl.

Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.

“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”

And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.

Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming.

“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”

“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering.

But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.

Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-

A mating press.

Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.

“So mine.”

And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb.

Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”

Oh.

You might have just broken him with that.

Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.

Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.

“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”

Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”

“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”

More.

And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.

Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”

He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.

Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.

“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”

But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”

“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”

Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.

Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name.

A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering.

And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”

His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”

You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo.

All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well.

Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”

“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”

“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”

And he does.

“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together.

You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab.

So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.

But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette.

Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again.

“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you.

You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”

Oh, you liked the thought of that.

And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.

But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never.

He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.

Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.

This was it.

“My princess…run away with me?”

“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”

“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”

“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”

“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”

“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”

Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other.

Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him!

And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.

Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.

And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.

Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love.

It was oh-so-positively sweet.

The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.

Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.

How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed.

A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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canihaveacalmtime · 7 months ago

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Imagine yourself as the neglected youngest prince/princess of a powerful empire, after being deemed for harming the king's favorite child, you were sent to the underground dungeon to have you learn your lesson but that lesson which suppose to only long for 2 weeks turned into 2 years of torture for you.

So when the truth was revealed that it was a duke's family that was behind the attack of the king's favorite child, they remembered about you and realized that it's been two years since they last seen you, it just hits them hard the moment they knew that you were still in the dungeons.

When they arrived at your cell, they were devastated to see how brutally beaten up you are and you look like you haven't had any food for weeks, even months. Quickly, the king order that you be treated immediately and called the royal doctor.

As you lay limp on the bed in your new bedroom, the doctor said that your condition now is even worse than any othet patient the doctor has ever treated, worse than the knights who came back from war even and you are 10, only 10 years old. Your family can only pray for your recovery now while drowning themselves in guilt and regret.

One early morning, when your sister, the king's favorite child yeah, came to check on you and she almost cried when she saw you sitting on the bed, looking outside the window. You're awake and moving, so she immediately go and tell the others.

After that was the beginning days of all the family members to try and attempt to get your attention and fight each other over for who will be the one to pamper and take care of you. You on the other hand just doesn't budge from what they've been doing, it's like you are just a living body without a living soul.

Everyday, you have to hear them apologize to you, tell you sweet things and comfort you, try their best to lessen the wounds on your body and you're becoming sick of those things. You only want to know why they are wasting their time on you while they can just left you back in the maid headquarters where your old room is then left to rot in there, won't it be better?

So as a protest, you did the unthinkable, you tried to unalive yourself by jumping off of the balcony and let's just say they were not happy about that one bit.

At first, you just did it once so they make sure the maids will always have their eyes on you to prevent you from doing such things again until your second attempt comes with you tried to stab yourself with a piece of glass then another, then another and another. They were getting really tired of what you were doing and finally settled down to an agreement.

Make sure to don't be too panic when you wake up the next day to see your hands cuffed and the chain on your leg connect to the bed frame. Even when you tried to refuse to eat, they will just force feed you without making you hurt. Eventually, you snapped and broke down one day just screaming and crying at them, saying that why don't they just kill you already, you are so tired of everything and the pain never fade.

Your mother holds and kiss your face, making you not notice the syringe has been plugged into your neck as you slowly losing consciousness, the only thing you hear before blacking out was-

"You shall never leave our side, sweetheart. Even if the lengths we are going to keep you here is overdose, we just have no option left if you don't cooperate. Sleep tight, we love you."

#calmwrites #platonic #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #gn reader #yandere family #fem reader #male reader

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bytemee · 2 months ago

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SO ANXIOUS, CAN’T TAKE IT — YU JIMIN.

“how do i keep these on? how do i let you know? girl, you deserve a show.

synopsis. karina learns that good things come to those that wait. or she learns that she should make sure your friend mason never speaks to you again.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ smut, g!p reader, p in v (unprotected), one lil slap, pet names (puppy ofc), semi public sex (in a car in a secluded parking lot...whatttttt???), karina is really down bad for reader, they say i luv u so much *throws up*, yeah the smut at the end is so ugh! i cant even omg

words. 4.5k

authors note. i didnt wanna name this naked (bc the lyrics are from naked by doja cat)...prob the last of the series that'll be over 2k words and the last thing i have in the vault. everything else will be requests from u guys

this is the part where i actually make a masterlist!!! & start updating where do you sleep.. iguess

navigation. main masterlist. series masterlist. prev.

the library was unusually quiet for a weekday evening, except for the steady murmur of conversation from a nearby study group and the occasional clatter of dice on a game board. karina sat next to you, one leg crossed over the other, staring down at a confusing mess of cards, pieces, and rules she didn’t understand.

it was one of your nerd friends who made the game—mason was his name. you explained how he’d spent months perfecting it and would proudly be the narrator for your group's first playthrough. karina didn’t care about the game. she barely knew what was going on. but you were there, and that made it okay.

she wasn’t even sure how to play or what she was supposed to do. you had tried your best to explain, but mason had been explaining the rules to the other players the entire time, and karina could barely focus. your friends were mostly the same as always. all a bunch of nerds that you were close to during high school and stayed in touch with through college.

and then you introduced her to your friends; they were a bit shocked when the president of the biggest sorority on campus said she wanted to hang out. but mason quickly welcomed her with open arms.

karina looked down at the game board, trying to understand the confusing mass of colors and shapes. a large blue square seemed to represent a lake, a path snaked through a forest of green, and there were lots of small tokens and miniatures scattered across the map. the rules were long and complicated. she hadn't understood a single one.

you took a deep breath and set down a card in front of karina.

"the evil king has captured the prince's lover!" mason announced. "it is now up to you, the player, to save her. but you have been locked in the king's dungeon. what do you do?"

"i…" karina hesitated, trying to remember the few things you had told her about the game. she could either go to the prince or to his lover. but she didn't know which one to pick. her eyes met yours.

"go to the prince," you said quietly.

"no, go to the lover," mason replied. "the prince is a jerk anyway."

karina sighed, feeling completely lost. she didn’t understand the dynamics of the game—why the prince was a jerk, why the lover needed rescuing, or what the king even wanted. she was just following your advice, since you were the one who had actually learned the rules.

“the prince,” karina decided reluctantly, even though mason rolled his eyes dramatically. she picked up a miniature knight figure and moved it in the general direction of the game board’s castle.

“bad move,” mason said with a grin. “you fell into a trap. you’re dead.”

karina glared at him so sharply he actually flinched. “seriously?”

“you suck at this game,” mason teased, but then quickly backed off when he caught her stare again.

the conversation around the table resumed, with mason narrating another turn, but karina had already tuned it out. she reached over and gently brushed her fingers along the nape of your neck. it was a small touch, but one that grounded her.

for the past three weeks, this had become her life. waiting outside your lectures just to see you. tagging along to the conventions she didn’t understand or care about. sitting through endless, painfully boring games and conversations, all just to be near you. she had hoped that by doing all this, things would go back to how they were before—when the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and all you wanted to do was stay in bed together.

but it hadn’t happened. you seemed content with how things were—maybe too content. you hadn’t even kissed her since your talk in her dorm three weeks ago. instead, it was karina who couldn’t stop herself from reaching for you. every time she did, she hoped you’d do the same. but you never did.

she was losing her mind.

“hey,” she leaned down to whisper in your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. “wanna leave? go do something else—just us?”

you didn’t pull away, but you didn’t look up either. “in a bit,” you murmured, eyes glued to the game. “i’m almost at the next level.”

karina clenched her jaw. mason smirked. she shot him another glare.

later that night, karina took you out—just the two of you. dinner at a small ramen place you both used to frequent, followed by a long walk along the river. it had been…nice. easy, even. but karina had hoped for more. every time your shoulder bumped hers, her heart jumped. every time your hand swung a little too close to hers, she wanted to reach out. but you didn’t.

when the night ended, she brought you back to her dorm. it was late, and when you set your bag down by her bed, her stomach fluttered. overnight bag, she thought. you’re staying the night.

her anticipation skyrocketed as you unzipped the bag—until you pulled out an old, beat-up console and started untangling the cords. karina blinked. you knelt by the tv, plugging the console in like it was the most normal thing in the world. then you paused, your expression nervous.

“am i allowed to do this?” you asked, hesitant.

karina quickly nodded, but she wanted to scream. allowed? was this a sleepover or something?

you started setting up the game, and karina flopped down on the bed, burying her face in the pillows. she didn't know how long you were going to keep this up. three weeks had felt like a lifetime. and she had thought…no, she was sure—she had made up for her mistakes. she was doing everything right now, and yet it still wasn't enough.

the game loaded, the familiar old-school theme music playing softly through the speakers. you adjusted the controller in your hands, fully immersed. karina slowly pulled herself up from the pillows, moving to the edge of the bed where you sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the tv.

what was she supposed to do? she had done it all—played the role of prince—princess— charming, and still you were slipping through her fingers like a story without a happy ending.

karina leaned forward, her fingers brushing against your hair before gently weaving through it. her touch was slow and careful, as if trying not to break whatever fragile peace had settled between you. she played with the strands absently, twirling them between her fingers, her mind half on you and half lost in thought.

your hair was soft. it smelled good. but you didn’t respond.

then, she tugged lightly, her fingertips massaging your scalp. this was a thing she did. something you loved.

but you didn’t lean back into her touch like usual. your shoulders were stiff. you didn't look at her. you didn't even seem to notice.

you kept playing.

karina felt a surge of frustration. she tugged harder, her movements no longer gentle. you grunted, your hands faltering on the controller.

"ouch, karina. what was that for?"

karina’s jaw clenched, her fingers freezing in your hair. “what was that for?” she repeated, her tone sharper than she intended. “i don’t know, maybe because i’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for weeks and you barely even notice me.”

you paused the game, setting the controller down on the floor. “i notice you,” you said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

karina moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs brushing against your back. “no, you don’t. not really. i show up to your lectures. i sit through hours of your nerd conventions. i come to these stupid board game nights and watch you get all excited. and yet…” she trailed off, pressing her hands to her thighs, digging her nails into the fabric. "nothing."

you sighed, running a hand through your hair where she had tugged too hard. “i'm just listening to what mason has been telling me. i don't want to overwhelm you."

her brows knitted together. mason…who was—oh. that fucking mason. karina blinked down at you, processing what you’d just said. “wait—what? what has mason been telling you?"

you sighed and shifted on the floor, still not looking at her. “mason’s been playing therapist through all of this. he told me that if we’re not a couple, we shouldn’t be doing… couple things.”

karina’s brow furrowed. “couple things?”

“yeah,” you said with a shrug. “like kissing…and you know…he says that we shouldn’t move too fast if we're not girlfriends."

"excuse me?"

mason had no business getting in the middle of her and you. and besides, what did he know about what she could handle?

her brain seemed to short-circuit. “but… you are my girlfriend.”

you finally looked at her, one brow raised. “you never asked me that.”

karina froze. her mouth opened, then shut, and for the first time all night, she was at a loss for words.

the silence stretched until karina blurted out, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

you blinked at her. “no.”

“what?” karina’s voice pitched slightly higher. “what do you mean, no?”

“that’s not how you ask someone,” you said, shaking your head. “that sounded like you were asking me if i wanted to go run errands.”

karina stared at you, stunned. was that a joke? you had to be joking. but there was no hint of amusement in your expression.

"you want me to ask you out? okay." karina cleared her throat. she was not used to being put on the spot like this. especially not with you. this was usually the other way around.

"y/n," karina started again, her nerves bubbling under her usual confidence. "i’m serious about you. i want to be more than this… whatever this is. i want us to be together—officially. so, will you be my girlfriend?"

you leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “karina, you’re asking me in your room. that’s not how you ask someone.”

karina blinked, thrown. “what do you mean?”

“it has to be… something grand. special. not just sitting on the edge of a bed with a game paused in the background. otherwise, it won’t feel like it means much.”

karina’s shoulders slumped for a second before she straightened, her hands curling into fists. there was no way in hell she was going to let herself fail at this. if that's what you wanted, then fine. karina would make this the most special, romantic thing ever. “fine. you want grand? i’ll give you grand.”

the next weekend, karina didn’t just take you somewhere—she took you everywhere.

she planned an entire day out: a visit to a scenic lookout, a boat ride across the river, a stop at your favorite dessert café, and finally, she led you to a secluded spot on a hill overlooking the city. you walked beside her, hand in hand, admiring the view. the sun had started to set, casting the sky in shades of red and orange. it was beautiful. the kind of view you could only see if you were high above the city. you leaned against the railing, watching the sun dip lower behind the buildings below.

karina stood beside you, her gaze lingering on the side of your face. you didn’t notice. or, if you did, you didn't comment. she reached for your hand again, lacing her fingers with yours. when you didn’t react, her chest tightened. she had a plan. a script. everything she was going to say, and yet now, standing beside you, looking at the sunset, her tongue was tied.

"this is beautiful," you said, your eyes sparkling as the last rays of the sun lit up the horizon.

"it is," karina murmured. she could have said a lot of things. that's why i brought you here. this is what we could have. but she didn't. her heart was in her throat, her palms sweating.

karina turned toward you, the words on the tip of her tongue. "y/n…"

"yeah?"

"i…i need to tell you something."

you met her gaze, tilting your head. your expression softened. "what is it?"

"i want this to be perfect. i want you to remember this moment because i’m serious about us.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but she pressed on.

“i’m not just following you around because i have nothing better to do. i’m here because i care about you. and i want to be your girlfriend. officially. so… will you be mine?”

a smile spread across your lips, and her heart stopped. you nodded slowly, reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "of course i'll be yours, karina."

the words had barely left your mouth before karina practically pounced on you, pulling you into a kiss. her hands were in your hair again, her lips pressing against yours with an urgency that left you breathless. when she pulled away, her eyes were shining.

when she pulled back, her eyes sparkled. “so… you want to stay the night?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “karina, it’s our first date as a couple.”

“okay? what does that have to do with anything?”

you gave her a teasing smile, leaning back slightly as you clarified, “it’s the first date as a couple, karina. you know the rules. third base only happens on the third date.”

karina blinked at you, her mouth slightly open as if to argue, but no words came out. instead, she let out a dramatic groan and fell back onto the grass, throwing her arm over her face. “seriously, y/n? third base rule? who even made that up?”

you smirked, stepping back to avoid her exaggerated flailing. “i don’t make the rules; i just follow them.”

she groaned again. "you're so annoying."

"says the girl who just asked me out with a video game paused in the background."

her groan turned into a whine.

by the time the third date rolled around, karina was determined to speed-run the process. she planned another full day of activities—brunch, a visit to an art exhibit, and a movie. afterward, she walked you back to your dorm. you felt lighter than you had in weeks, finally enjoying the ease of being with her.

as you both stood outside your dorm, karina hesitated, shifting on her feet. “so…” she started, hands fidgeting. “since this is technically the third date, maybe you could—”

you raised a brow, waiting.

“—you know, come back to my place?” she finished, giving you a hopeful smile.

you thought for a moment, lips pressed together. “mmm… i think i’m just going to sleep here tonight. my roommate’s gone for the first time in forever, and i kind of want to enjoy having the place to myself.”

karina groaned softly. “y/n… please? it feels like it's been forever since we've done anything together."

your cheeks flushed. "karina, i—"

"we don't have to do anything," she said quickly, cutting you off. "we can just watch a movie and cuddle. i won't even try to seduce you."

"karina," you warned.

"okay, okay. maybe a little. but only if you want me to!"

you laughed, shaking your head at her antics. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

karina gave you a playful pout, stepping closer. “come on, please? just a little more time together. i miss you.”

you sighed. how could you resist when she was being so sweet?

"alright, alright," you relented, giving her a smile. "i guess we could spend a little more time together."

karina let out a soft squeal, throwing her arms around you. "you're the best!"

that night, the two of you stayed up watching a movie, curled up on your small twin bed. karina's head rested on your chest, her hand stroking the skin just below the hem of your shirt. you were barely paying attention to the screen.

after a few minutes, karina lifted her head to look at you. "are you enjoying the movie?"

"not really," you admitted.

she shifted, propping herself up on her elbow. "do you want to do something else?"

you hummed, eyes meeting hers. "like what?"

karina's gaze dropped to your lips. "we could make out a little."

you rolled your eyes, smiling. "how subtle."

"is that a yes?"

"maybe," you replied, unable to keep the laughter out of your voice. "if you play your cards right."

"you're killing me here, puppy."

you shook your head. "come here."

she leaned forward, pressing her lips to yours. her kiss was gentle and warm, and her tongue flicked out to swipe against your bottom lip. you sighed, deepening the kiss. she tasted sweet, and the familiar scent of her perfume filled your senses. the rest of the movie was long forgotten as karina kissed you hungrily. her hands wandered under your shirt, tracing patterns on your skin. you pulled her closer, tangling your fingers in her hair.

when you finally broke apart, karina was flushed and breathing heavily.

"that was…"

"nice," she finished, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

"yeah." you smiled back, resting your forehead against hers. "nice."

the next week, karina found herself in a similar position—only this time, the two of you were in your car, parked in a dark, quiet parking lot. the day had been perfect: a long walk through the park, endless conversation, and laughter that made your stomach hurt.

now, her lips were locked with yours as she leaned over the middle console, one hand cupping your face while the other gripped the back of your neck. your hands found her waist, pulling her in as much as the cramped space would allow. karina’s fingers skimmed along your jaw, her lips trailing down to your neck.

"y/n," she moaned, her lips trailing along your jaw.

"mmm," you hummed, arching into her touch.

"i love you," she murmured, her hands slipping under your shirt.

you froze. "w-what?"

"i love you."

you pulled back slightly, eyes wide as you processed her words. your heart thudded against your chest. “w-what?” you repeated, not quite sure if you’d heard her right. she leaned in closer, "i love you, y/n. i’ve loved you for a while now. i couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

she paused, studying your expression. "is that bad?"

you quickly shook your head, but the shock hadn't fully faded from your face. "no, it's just…i love you too, karina—"

"then it's settled," she interrupted, leaning forward to kiss you again. her touches were firm and confident, and you could feel yourself getting swept away by the intensity of her feelings. karina had always been one to go after what she wanted, and it seemed like now was no different. she wanted you, and she was determined to show you exactly how much.

karina let out a soft gasp as you pulled her into your lap, her thighs straddling your hips. she settled easily against you, the fabric of her shirt slipping up and baring a sliver of her hip. you traced your fingertips along the exposed skin, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"y/n," karina breathed, her hands cupping your face as she leaned down to capture your lips once more. you sighed into the kiss, your hands gripping her hips as you pulled her closer. karina's body felt hot against yours, and the air in the car seemed to grow thicker as the moments passed.

your hands slipped under her shirt, and the bare skin of her back felt smooth beneath your touch. karina shuddered at the contact, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pressed closer.

"i want you," she whispered, her lips ghosting along the shell of your ear.

"karina," you murmured, your hands trailing along her back.

"i've missed you," she continued, her lips skimming along your neck. "i've missed this. i've missed us."

your hands tightened on her hips, pulling her flush against you. "me too," you murmured, nipping at her jaw.

she pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with yours. her eyes were dark, and her lips were swollen from your kisses. she looked breathtaking.

your hands slipped back under her shirt, your hands grazing every inch of her back, her sides, and her stomach. she shivered, her eyes closing. you couldn't help but smile. she was so responsive to your touch, and it made your heart swell with pride.

a part of you remembered you were in the middle of a parking lot where anyone could see you, but another part of you didn’t care. not when karina was looking at you like that. the car windows were tinted, and it was late enough that there were few people around anyway. and besides, you were beyond the point of rationality.

denying yourself of karina for the past three weeks had been torture. you had missed her more than you realized. and now, being with her again—feeling her warmth, her touch, her kisses—was overwhelming. you wanted more. she couldn't seem to get enough of you as well, her hands skimming across your skin, as if to commit the feel of it to memory. your bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, your curves molding to hers as she pressed closer.

karina's lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin there. her teeth grazed your pulse point, and you swore you could feel your heartbeat everywhere, like it was thrumming through your entire body. she was driving you wild, and you could feel your control slowly slipping away.

you leaned in and captured her lips once more, kissing her with all the passion and desire that had been building up inside you over the past few weeks. karina moaned against your lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. she tasted like the cherry lip balm she always used, and you couldn't get enough of it.

your hands slid up her back, pushing her shirt up until it bunched around her shoulders. you pulled away just long enough to tug it over her head, tossing it into the back seat. then, you were on her again, your lips finding hers in a heated kiss.

karina's skin felt hot against yours as your hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and dip. you trailed kisses along her collarbone, down her chest, and across her stomach. she arched into your touch, her head falling back as she let out a low groan. your hands skimmed along her thighs, the fabric of her pants suddenly feeling much too restrictive.

you tugged at the waistband, looking up at her for permission. karina's eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with desire. she nodded, her hands tangling in your hair. “just hurry up and take them off,” she groaned.

you slowly pulled her pants down, your fingers skimming along her skin as you went. she shivered under your touch, her eyes fluttering shut. you discarded her pants and took a moment to admire the view. she looked stunning, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed, her hair mussed.

you could barely believe she was yours.

her hands fiddled with the string on your sweatpants before she finally slipped them off your hips. the feeling of her bare skin against yours made you both gasp. it felt like electricity was running through your veins, and every nerve ending seemed to be on fire. karina's fingers tugged at the waistband of your boxers, and you lifted your hips, allowing her to remove them.

karina couldn't even begin to explain how badly she needed you. every fiber of her being seemed to hum with desire, her body aching for your touch. she had been so patient, waiting for you to give her some kind of sign that you wanted this as badly as she did. but now, with your hands gripping her hips as if you were afraid she might disappear, she knew she didn't need to wait anymore.

then, slowly, gently, she lowered herself onto you. the two of you gasped in unison, the sensation sending sparks shooting through your bodies.

"fuck," she breathed, her voice shaky. "that's— fuck, you're— oh, my god."

you clutched at each other as if you were trying to meld into one being, your lips finding hers in a searing kiss. karina began to move against you, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

karina's rhythm was tortuously slow, like she was trying to make this moment last as long as possible. but you were past the point of patience, and you found yourself bucking up against her, desperate for more friction.

"please," you whined, and she obliged, increasing the tempo.

karina let out a low moan, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "i love you," you whispered, throwing your head to the side, biting your lip to keep from screaming out as your pleasure intensified.

"y/n," karina breathed, her hand wrapping around your neck as she pressed messy kisses to your face. "i love you too."

a slap echoed through the car, followed by a small giggle that shortly turned into a moan. karina bit her lip, stifling another laugh as your head snapped over to her.

"did you just slap me?"

karina nodded, still smiling. "i want you to look at me, puppy. i've missed those pretty eyes."

you tried to say something, but the words were lodged in your throat; all you could manage was a strangled moan.

you tried to say something, but the words were lodged in your throat; all you could manage was a strangled moan. karina's fingers trailed along your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone.

"c’mon…look at me, puppy."

your eyes met hers. they were dark and hooded, the pupils dilated with desire. you couldn't look away, not even if you wanted to.

your name fell from her lips in a desperate plea, and you couldn't help but smile. you knew you wouldn't last long—not with the way karina was moving against you, her hips grinding down, her hands gripping the back of your neck. the sound of her voice, the sight of her body, and the feel of her skin against yours—it was all too much.

karina's movements became more erratic, her breaths coming in short gasps. she buried her face in your neck as she reached her peak, her whole body trembling with the force of her orgasm. "y/n," she cried out, her voice muffled by the crook of your neck.

your own climax followed soon after, the two of you clinging to each other as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. you held each other tightly, neither wanting to let go, the air in the car thick with the smell of sex. you didn't know how long the two of you sat there, basking in the afterglow, but eventually, karina's voice broke the silence.

"i love you," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

you smiled, the words falling easily from your lips. "i love you too, karina."

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @kyakpack @snsgf @sscieloz @fruityg0rl

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sarahsartistportfolio · 3 months ago

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when we talk about knights like I completely agree with the whole "yes yes the protection, devotion, unwavering loyalty the immense bond and sexiness of I am your weapon use me as you see fit" is hot and good and all

but also consider in addition to that the unbelievable connection & love that is,

your knight always being there. He's always there around you, somewhere in your space. He has learned every little detail about you, weather that be intentionally or just from habit from being around you from sun up to sun down. He knows more about you than you do yourself sometimes. Its a love language. Like! Like!

Your knight is one of the first faces you see when you wake. Excluding your maids or ladies. He is the first man you see in the morning. He knows what you look like in your wrinkled chemise, hair a mess, fresh eye bags and cranky mood because you do not want to leave your comfy bed to entertain the snooty neighboring diplomats. He is one of the very rare people who see you without your heavy gowns and bare face. He sees you like this at the crack of dawn, and he still loves you, as he looks at you with adoration in his eyes and asks what your schedule looks like for the day.

and still, he is absolutely the last person you see before you sleep.(He makes sure of it) Even after your ladies have dressed you down and made you comfortable. He still finds you, checks up on you. Asks if your alright. As he cheekily kisses your hand and tells you to sleep soundly as "I'm right next door so get some rest my grace"

Your knight learns what time you wake up and how long it takes for you to fall asleep.

What wines and teas you prefer, as he watches you at a grand dinner ask the servants for your favorite.

He quickly learns to distinguish your handwriting(because what if someone tries to forage a letter to him saying its from his queen)

He learns how to touch you and much you like to be touched. He learns that it really makes you blush when you link arms with him so the teasing bastard keeps offering his arm to you just to see you flustered. He learns where to grab you and how much pressure to apply when he must pull you out of harms way. He must learn this. You're the crown. The one thing he's sworn his life to. If you flinch away from him, or don't trust him? If you don't feel safe around him? Then he is failing his job.

He learns what secretive, secluded spot you go to in the castle, to hide away from everyone when you want to be left alone. He knows where to find you when no one else can. But he never bothers you. When he sees the lonely distant look in your eyes, as you gaze out the window to your busying court below. He stands back, keeping himself unknown, watching you at a safe distance. He knows you need this time alone.

He learns how absolutely beautiful you look when genuinely happy and laughing. He watches you play another round of cards with your most trusted ladies, outside on a warm summer's day, surrounded by the wealth that the palace can afford, colorful blooming flowers and luxurious furniture. He tries to hold back a smile but fails, seeing you relaxed around your friends, no pressure of keeping up a facade for the court. Just hearing you freely laugh. He's thankful he's here to protect that.

He's also so so thankful that he's learned to pick up when your many suitors make you uncomfortable. The way your hand hesitates as another prince offers to dance with you. How you lean and press your body away from a distinguished war general bragging to you. How your polite and formal "No thank you" to the elderly king proposing you meet him at his chambers tonight, how your polite rejection hides the disgust and distain for this dance you must do. Your knight learns you must greet and entertain the proposals of these men. Or else you risk displeasing your family or coming off as inhospitably to a foreign nation.

But this means your poor knight also knows when you're completely at ease. So this means one day, when his majesty the queen, is having lunch with another prince, and your knight is standing a few feet away enough to give you privacy but still close enough to peer into your conversation. When he sees that your shoulders relax, and you giggle at one of the prince's little quips, and this time you keep all your focus on the other royal, instead of occasionally glancing over to your knight. Its then your precious knight feels anxiety building up in his chest. This time, he learns he just might lose you.

holy shit I got so side tracked with this one, it meant to just be a short blurb but I ended up fantasizing about my own princessXknight characters from Audrey The Bride of Prosperity.

#omg someone please read the whole thing and induge in my love for knightXprincess trope 😭#princess x knight #knights #knightcore #knight x reader #medieval knight #princess x knight trope #romance trope #romance fantasy #royalty au #knight aesthetic #romance writing #x reader #princesses #female reader #I ended up just thinking about my knight characters Claudio and Henry #my writing

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keitorin3 · 5 months ago

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Short: Leon (The Long Suffering)

Arthur: I'm gonna mess with this goofy eared kid.

Leon: *Internally thinking* Why do I feel like Arthur just met his match??

Arthur: He's absolutely terrible, the worst Manservant I've ever seen!

Leon: I'm sure with time he will improve, Sire. It's only been the first week.

Arthur: I've already sacked him, but then changed my mind and re-hired him back.

Leon: Ah... I see... Why?

Arthur:... *Internally thinking* Because I liked the way he looked at me when I won.

Arthur: It was difficult to find good help nowadays.

Leon: Right...

Arthur: Can you believe it, Merlin went and accused himself of being a sorcerer! In front of my father during the council meeting!

Leon: He what?! 😨

Arthur: I know! All because a girl gave him a flower. That idiot. I don't know where his head is at.

Leon: Hold on a second sire, he really said that in front of the King and didn't get executed?? 😧

Arthur: *Waves it off* Yeah, I had to explain that it was cause he had a crush on Gwen. *Mutters to himself* Maybe I should get him some flowers? 🤔

Leon: !? ⁉️❕❔

Arthur: My idiot Manservant got sick and I got him flowers so he'd feel better. 💐

Leon: Arthur, he drank poison for you and you went off to find the antidote. 😑

Arthur: So you think he liked it?

Leon: ... *Takes a deep breath* I'm sure he did Sire.

Arthur: 😁 See! I take care of my servants~

Arthur: *Breaks into Leon's room*

Leon: *Jumps in fright* ⁉️

Arthur: I can't believe him!

Leon: What is it? Is there an attack Sire? Something happened with the King?

Arthur: No! It's that insolent brat Merlin. He came back with some guy, singing him praises and wants me to make him a knight?!😤

Leon: *Thinking* Is this really worth barging into my chambers? 😮‍💨

Leon: Really, then what did you do? 😑

Arthur: Ha, had the guy cleaning the stables.

Leon: 🤦🏼‍♂️

Leon: *Watches as Arthur sits with goofy smile and practically hearts in his eyes*

Leon: Sire?

Arthur: Isn't it the loveliest day to go out for a picnic? 🥰

Leon: Yes Sire, it is indeed.

Arthur: *Nods* I had Merlin pack a picnic for me and the lady Sofia. Where gonna go later today.

Leon: *Confused and concerned* But don't you have a meeting with the King today?

Arthur: *Waves it off* It's fine, I have Merlin to cover for me!

Leon: *Thinking* Oh boy...

[LATER]

Merlin: *Coming back from the stocks* I'm gonna kill that cabbagehead! 😠💢

Arthur: *Walks in* Merlin~! 🥰💐🌈

Merlin: 🌩️🔪😠

Leon: *Makes a break for it*

Leon: *Walks by Morgana's room*

Morgana: Please Arthur he just a boy and he's sick! 🥺

Arthur: I'm sorry Morgana, but my father is looking for him and if he were to find out you harboured a druid, you'll not only get into trouble but so would Gwen and Merlin.

Morgana: *Angry* 😠

Merlin: *Steps in* Please Arthur, we can't let the King kill him. 🥺

Arthur: ... *Turns away* I saw nothing, heard nothing. I've got to look for the Druid boy because clearly he isn't here. *Leaves room without noticing Leon*

Morgana: Tsk, of course he'd listen to Merlin.

Gwen: *Giggles*

Merlin: Arthur has a good heart. Of course he'd help. *The face of loyalty and innocence*

Morgana: 😏 He followed his heart alright. I'll remember next time to have you around to convince him for some things.

Merlin: 🤨❔❔ What do you mean?

Leon: *Overhears and follows his princes lead and continues like nothing happened*

Leon: *Witnessed Merlin doing Sorcery, trying to burn the Black Knight and fails*

Leon: ... I saw nothing. Just tired eyes. Yup, nothing here. *Mutters* Not like Arthur would believe it, or even care.

Uther: Where is my son and ward?! 😠

Leon: They've decided on a friendly hunting trip, they'll be gone for several days.

Leon: *Internally* They went after Merlin to his home village to fight bandits alone. And I'm not gonna say anything because

1. You'll blame Merlin and send him away

2. Merlin's a sorcerer who you'll kill if you knew

3. If any of the above happens Arthur might likely kill you and that'll be a worse headache then his pinning.

Uther: Those brats!

Leon: *Thinking* I couldn't agree more.

[LATER]

Arthur: If I ever retire from royalty, I think I'd like to live as a farmer.

Leon: Ah, is that so?

Arthur: Yup. Of course, Merlin would be there to do the work.

Leon: 😓

Arthur: But I'll get him Cows and chickens, maybe even a horse. He has a soft spot for animals.

Arthur: Merlin's mad at me. He started talking politely to me Leon! Politely. As in using my titles instead of insults. Even avoids looking at me in the eyes. 😟

Leon: 😬 Oof, what did you do?

Arthur: He's angry at me after killing the Unicorn. 😟

Leon: ... That would do it.

Arthur: What do I do Leon!

Leon: Try giving him some space for now and maybe flowers, you've said Merlin likes those.

Arthur: Alright!

[LATER]

Arthur: Merlin's not avoiding me anymore. 😊

Leon: Great to hear, what happened?

Arthur: We faced off the sorcerer of the Unicorns and I drank fake poison before Merlin could.

Leon: ... What?! 😱

Arthur: It's fine. Merlin's still mad about that but now he insults me about my intellect being the size of a peanut. ☺️🌈✨

Leon: I'm almost inclined to agree with him Sire.

Leon: *Spots Merlin and follows him to the Isles*

Nimueh: For a life to be saved, another life must be forfeited.

Merlin: He's my friend. I'd gladly give my life for him.

Leon: *Thinking* God these two are cut by the same cloth. I'm gonna go fully grey by 30.

[LATER]

Arthur: 🥰 Merlin said the most weirdest thing. He said he'd serve me for the rest of his life. That he was happy to be with me. ❤️🥰

Leon: *Bore witness to Merlins power and dedication to his loved ones*

Leon: He cares for you Sire. Would hardly leave your side if he didn't need to help Gaius make your cure.

Arthur: ☺️ Don't tell Merlin this, but I think Merlin's my best friend.

Leon: *Internally swears on his honor as a knight to support Merlin however he could and potentially get his prince to be less of an idiot. Hopefully*

Merlin: *Sneezes*

Gaius: You alright my boy?

Merlin: *Sniffs and shurgs* I'm alright.

Gaius: Hmm, some say that when you sneezing abruptly, it's because someone is talking about you at the moment.

Merlin: Ugh, probably Arthur talking about all the chores he has in stored for me. 😮‍💨

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin fandom #bbc merthur #arthur x merlin #shorts #leon the long suffering #Leon #short story #short fanfic #arthur loves merlin #prince arthur #Pray for Leon's sanity #He was close to committing treason

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starogeorgina · 6 months ago

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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Corruption kink, loss of virginity, fingering, hand job, mention of blood.

Deep in thought you pace the floors of your bedchamber the cold floor below, pinching at the pads of your feet while you palm at your breasts. It was the hour of the eel, and the only light was from the candles and flickering flames of hearth.

“Byka mēre.” (Little one)

Startled, you use your hands to conceal your breasts. You look across the room and see a tall figure by the fireplace, “cousin.”

“Hmm,” he lets our disapproving tsk. “You should be asleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your father, Ser Gwayne, and yourself travelled to the red keep so he and Queen Alicent could find a suitable husband for you. It wasn’t uncommon for Aemond to visit you before settling for the night, but he usually didn’t come so late.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

Aemond ignores the question and finally turns to face you, his expression hard to read. In a stern tone, he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Pirtirys.” (Liar.)

Frowning, you shake your head. You hated it when Aemond spoke in High Valyrian. He knew how badly you wanted to learn it since the histories of House Targaryen fascinated you, but as you grew up in OldTown and had Hightower blood, you never got the opportunity to learn about such things.

“Some may consider what you’re doing unbecoming of a young lady soon to be married.”

Feeling embarrassed, you look down at the ground. “I was told simulating your breasts makes them grow larger.”

“Oh,” he smiles at you mockingly. “And who told this?”

“A couple of my ladies... Why are you here so late?”

“Your breasts are in proportion to the rest of your body,” he says, ignoring your question. "Plus, I can tell when you are lying. So tell me, Why are you groping at yourself as if you��re putting on a show in a whorehouse?”

“I… I was told if a woman touches herself during sex it can bring her pleasure; I just wanted to see if it was true.”

“If you wish to know, you only needed to ask.”

Stepping forward Aemond lowers your hand and replaces it with his mouth. If anyone else had tried to touch you in such a way, you would have screamed, hit them, and ordered the knight standing guard outside your room to kill them.

But with Aemond, it was different.

The warmth from his tongue was a stark contrast to the feeling of your fingers. He takes one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A small moan leaves your mouth, encouraging him to keep going.

A sudden knock at the door causes you to leap apart. Aemond leaves the room without saying anything, his head held high while you hurry to fix your nightgown for your handmaiden entering the room.

—

Aemond couldn’t get you out of his mind, his sweet younger cousin, his little one.

You were only a few years younger, but growing up, you were much smaller in height, which is why he gave you the nickname. All the teasing was in jest, of course; you were his favourite, and the prince could think of nothing worse than upsetting you. You had an innocence he had never seen in another person, even now that you had become a grown woman.

The more the Prince watches lords parade their sons, themselves or whoever the next male heir in their house was to his uncle Gwayne, he grew more and more irritated.

You were his beautiful, innocent girl; he wouldn’t allow for you to be ruined by some man unworthy of you.

He would be the one to marry you.

As far as the one-eyed prince was concerned, you were his to love and cherish, and he would be the one to take your maidenhood to seal the deal, making sure you were his forever. And in the back of his mind there may be a sick satisfaction knowing you would allow nobody else to touch you in the way he already has.

His sweet girl, all ready to be corrupted by him and only him.

—

The next few weeks were long and tiresome. Your father had paraded you around court while eagerly listening to every lord who came to him and said why they should be your husband. But none of them paid any mind to you, the bride.

However, Prince Ameond was a different matter. During the rare few hours you had, he would come and keep you company. He gifted you books of Targaryen history, a pearl necklace, and a silk dress that was similar in shade to his dragons scales. He even read poems to you.

And not once has he tried to touch you again. Perhaps almost being caught scared him, or he was no longer interested.

Aemond was reading while you practiced needlework in silence until a sudden thought crossed your mind. “Do you think of me as spoilt?”

“Jason Lannister is a cunt,” he says sharply. “He only referred to you as spoilt because your father refused his marriage proposal on the spot. Out of curiosity, what do you want in a husband?”

“I want a husband who pays attention to me like you do.”

He smirks, placing his book on the arm of the chair. Aemond waves for you to go over to him. “My lady, do you want a man like me, or do you want me?”

“I want you, my prince.”

When you stand in front of him, his hand immediately goes to your hip. “My uncle still has lots of lords to speak with, but I may know a way he would agree for us to be married immediately if that’s what you truly wanted.”

“What is it?”

“If you’re no longer a maiden, then Ser Gwayne would have no choice but to betroth us.”

“I would be dishonoured.”

“You would be married to a dragon.” His grip on your hips tightens. “I would be the only man ever filling your womb with their seed; no dishonour would be taking place.”

“Why do you want this?”

Aemond thinks hard before answering. The prince was completely obsessed with you, to the point it was borderline possessive. And from the moment you became of age to be married, he has been hounding his mother to arrange a marriage between the two of you, but as always, she put duty above all else and insisted on waiting to see who else asked for your hand, but Aemond couldn’t let that happen.

He’s silently for so long you start to grow nervous, “Aemond?”

“You are mine, little one, and always have been.”

Swallowing thickly, you step back out of his reach and remove the thin material covering your body, then move to straddle Aemond’s lap. “Then make me yours forever; claim me so no other man can have me.”

Aemond claims your lips with his own. With one leg on either side of his lap, Aemond lowers his hand underneath you with ease, using his finger to spread the small amount of wetness dripping from your folds to and drag it up to your clit. After a few moments, he urges you to move off him. Aemond lifts his hips and pulls his clothing down until his cock is free, then pulls you back onto his lap.

You look down at his penis, watching as precum forms a glistening tip on the head of his cock. Holding your gaze, Aemond guides your hand to slowly start stroking him.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “You are doing good; I’m going to prepare you now so that it doesn’t hurt so much.”

Your stomach clenches.

Aemond slides one long, slender finger inside you, then adds another. He pumps them back and forth while rubbing at your clit. You feel a weird sensation, like your core is starting to spasm. You still stroke at his cock, but your movements are now weaker than before.

“I feel weird,” you mumble.

“It’s okay, that’s good. Let the feeling take over.”

A few seconds later, you cum over his fingers, whimpering his name. “You’re doing so good,” Aemond withdraws his fingers from and lines his cock up. “I’ll try my best to take it slow.”

Placing one hand on your backside, Aemond holds you in place as he eases into you. Feeling the sting of his cock stretching you, you whine, “It’s too big!”

“Tis only the tip, little one. Rub your clit, it will only feel better.”

Doing as he says you start rubbing as Aemond pushes you down until his cock is completely inside you. It felt weird—a good weird. Aemond holds onto your hips again and starts to slowly move you up and down; you spread up the rubbing motions.

“I think I’m going to cum again.”

“Then cum for me,” he says before kissing you again.

You moan into his mouth when a similar feeling as before comes over you. Aemond’s thrusts become sloppy as he approaches his own peak, spilling his seed inside you.

After a few moments of kissing and Aemond stroking your back tenderly, you remove yourself from his lap. Glancing down between your legs, you notice blood-mixed arousal sliding down your thighs.

Aemond tilts your chin up gently, “tis normal for some women to bleed.”

“Oh.”

You step back and reach for your nightgown to redress, suddenly worried this might have been a mistake. Why if Aemond decided you weren’t good enough to be his wife?

“What happens now?” You ask shyly.

“I will have one of your ladies prepare a bath for you,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “You need to do nothing else but rest, and while you do that, I will speak with my mother and inform her of what transpired. Then I suspect come morning she will be meeting with Ser Gwayne to discuss our betrothal.”

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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sapphiremusings · 11 months ago

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when i’m down on my knees, | aemond targaryen

summary: with their wedding only a few days away, aemond eases his betrotheds fear of him.

cw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, baratheon!reader, no use of y/n

this is the first in a 2 part series! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

The rumors concerning Lady Baratheon’s betrothed are not lost on her. No, she is well educated on Prince Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen’s unsavory reputation, just as much as every other lord and lady in Westeros.

Before she was shipped off to King’s Landing in preparation for her royal wedding, her sisters had made it their duty to tease her. They made sure that she was well aware of her prince’s cruel attitude, and the monstrous look of him, with a sharp scar down the left side of his face. By the time she had arrived to the Red Keep, she was teeming with fear as her sisters’ words echoed through her mind.

Prince Aemond is known to be a cruel yet dutiful man. He is said to be a skilled swordsman, besting his mother’s sworn knight, Ser Criston Cole, on many occasions. He rides the largest— and oldest— dragon, the same one that the conquerors sister-wife, Visenya, had rode into battle many times. He had claimed the she-dragon at a young age, losing his eye in the process to his young nephew. His missing left eye is another topic often whispered about in court. Some say that he had cut out another man’s eyeball, and placed it into his empty socket. Others say he has a large jewel in its place, something so peculiar and off-putting that he is forced to cover it up with a leather eyepatch.

All of this is to say that any sane lady would be terrified of their betrothal to Aemond Targaryen. Of course, Lady Baratheon is well aware that most Westerosi marriages are born out of duty, not love. If anything, she should feel blessed by the gods that she is betrothed to a young prince, and not some measly lord old enough to be her grandsire. Yet, she cannot help her feelings of terror at the thought of her upcoming wedding, and even more so, her soon-to-be husband.

From a young age, her septa had installed in her what was to be expected of her when she became of age. Being a dutiful wife was the only thing she was to worry about, and then being a dutiful mother to her husband’s heirs. She would often have nightmares about an old lord running his eager hands down her gaudy wedding gown, pushing her onto the marital bed where she would be forced to lay under his big gut as he ruts into her, witnesses to the dreaded bedding ceremony snickering behind the sheer curtains. Her ladies-in-waiting would comfort her after these night terrors, smoothing down her hair and promising that no harm would come to her. Even with their sweet words, she knew the truth; she would be forced to marry a stranger, and endure all the hardships that came with having no freedom of her own.

Now, with her wedding only a few days away, she can barely sit still. Her mind incessantly spins around various scenarios that can take place on that special day, and she worries over her impending future. She has taken to walking along the Keep’s gardens, and throughout the various twisting halls; anything to keep her moving. Her father always scolded her for this habit, as to him it was the equivalent of running away from your problems. Still, she can’t help it as the big day draws forward, her anxiety swollen inside her.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want to become a wife. It is merely her irrational fear of her husband-to-be. Even now, as he walks behind her, quiet in his sure steps, his gaze burns through all her layers, settling deep within her core. She feels as if she is on fire, and the longer he stares, calculating and as if she is a foreign creature, the more this inferno swells. Every move she makes is with caution, in fear that he will strike her down and show off that unforgiving nature that he is known for. So far, he hasn’t, but she believes this is merely a false front. Surely, he is waiting for when they are finally married to show his true colors, knowing that she will be his and unable to do anything about it.

She begs to the Seven to release her from this torment, her spine rigid as they continue their walk through the Keep’s halls. She had wanted to be alone, as she often has been since arriving in Kings Landing, artfully dodging any attempt at courting that Prince Aemond tried to enact. Truthfully, it has been his queen-mother, Alicent, who has pushed her son towards his betrothed, and to Lady Baratheon, he hasn’t seemed that worried over the fact that she has been avoiding him. No, he merely stares, violet eye darting over her face and figure as if she is a puzzle he is trying to solve.

Really, she doesn’t understand why he is still walking behind her, steps steady and calculated. They haven’t spoken a single word to each other since their initial greeting that morning, when he had been waiting outside her chamber doors, ready to escort her on her walk. Even then, it had merely been a “good morn” recited, both tense in their separate ways. Aemond couldn’t look more annoyed even if he tried, seemingly uninterested in anything she could potentially offer him. Not that she was offering anything.

Growing bored of wandering aimlessly around the Keep, Lady Baratheon pauses with a sigh. Tersely, she turns to the side, not daring to look at her betrothed, who has halted behind her. “I’d like to retire to my cha-“

“I want to show you something, my lady.”

Her heart nearly stops beating at his words, sudden and surprising as he takes a step towards her. She wishes to flee, but her feet stay planted on the floor, and she watches from the corner of her eyes as he brings a hand up to grab ahold of her elbow. Though the fabric of her dress sleeves acts as a barrier between flesh, she still feels as if she was scalded. She flinches, almost imperceptibly, but Aemond seems to notice as he lets out a hum.

She knows she mustn’t deny him. No, her septa had taught her well. So, she meekly nods her head, cheeks flushed in apprehension.

They walk back through the halls, towards a place she has never dared to step foot near, a dark alcove lit only by torches and candles. She lets out a gasp at the sight before her; the giant skull of the largest dragon known to Westeros. If she wanted to, she could walk straight into its jaws and past the many rows of sharp teeth. Her breath catches in her throat.

Aemond’s voice comes out in a whisper, right next to her ear. “This is the skull of Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon, the largest who’s ever lived. His name was-“

“Balerion. The Black Dread,” she interrupts him, immediately regretting so afterwards.

Instead of scolding her like she expected him to do, he merely breathes out a small laugh. Still, she feels the need to apologize, even as she stutters over her words.

“I apologize, my prince. At Storm’s End, we had a few tomes about the Conquest, and they interested me greatly.”

He hums. “Do not apologize. I like to know what you are thinking.”

She doesn’t know how to reply to this, heart pounding against her chest as she feels him step closer behind her, pressing into her back. He towers over her frame, hard and lean against her. His head bends, lips coming close to her ear.

“Are you afraid of me, my dear betrothed?”

“N-no,” she stutters out, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. Her eyes focus on the dragon skull before them, willing her heart to calm down. “No, my prince.”

He seems amused by her answer. “Liar.”

Another gasp escapes her mouth as his lips flutter over the shell of her ear, trailing down to the crook of her neck. He smells of smoke and steel, leather and something else she can’t put her finger on— but it’s intoxicating as it enters her nose, and she feels like nuzzling against him. Her fear won’t let her, nor will it let her move from his grasp, even as she shakes like a leaf under his hands, now resting atop her forearms.

“You avoid me. You can’t even look me in my eye,” he muses, lips still pressed against her skin. “You are shaking… am I so fearsome, Lady Baratheon?”

She whimpers, shaking her head, eyes growing wide as his grip tightens. “I’m sorry…”

His hand suddenly grabs ahold of her jaw, making her flinch, in which he lets out a disappointed tsk. Slowly, he turns her face towards his, fingers gentle against her rosy cheeks. She trembles as she meets his dark gaze, his lilac iris now a small ring, overtaken by his widened pupil. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his stare travels across her face, stopping on her lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, blinking. “No… quite the opposite. Will you let me show you?”

Deep within her stomach, something sharp twists, turning her blood hot as it pools within her veins. She is afraid, but another feeling unknown to her is slowly creeping up her spine, turning her brain into mush as she continues staring up at her betrothed. Her fingers reach up to grasp on his arm that’s wrapped around her, tightening around the leather of his sleeve. His gaze doesn’t move away, nor does he. Instead, he seems to draw closer, pressed against her back as his lips near hers. She can’t help but flutter her eyes closed, and before she can fully think about what she is agreeing to, she dips her chin down into a small nod.

Aemond’s lips immediately find hers, warm and plush, eager in his exploration. She has never been kissed before, and the feeling is foreign, but her pulse begins to thrum within her, and she opens her mouth to take more of it. He seems pleased by her reciprocation, groaning softly as he brushes his tongue against her teeth, his hand that still cups her jaw growing harsher. Their tongues slip against each other, a jolt of lightning hitting her every time they touch, her skin pebbled with goosebumps.

Growing restless, she spins around in his arms, hungry for something she doesn’t yet have a word for. Her arms wrap around his neck, and she has to push herself up onto her toes as she meets his lips once more, a clashing of teeth and spit. Between her legs, it grows hot, pulse thumping at her very core. She wants to climb on top of him and devour him, her fear of her mysterious prince melting away with every flick of his tongue. Is it supposed to feel like this?, she thinks, whimpering as she pulls him down closer by his neck.

When he pulls away, panting, she whines, her own chest heaving as she tries to breathe, but the throbbing between her thighs is so strong, she merely steps into his arms once more. He chuckles at this, looking down at his eager betrothed, flushed and nearly ravaged.

“I haven’t even shown you yet, and you’re already begging for more,” he muses, clicking his tongue mockingly. “What happened to my fearful little betrothed, hm?”

This sobers her up, her already flushed face turning a deeper shade of scarlet, and she staggers back on her feet. Aemond doesn’t let her go far, though, immediately grabbing ahold of her waist and pulling her back in. His hand brushes her hair back from her face, forcing her to look up at him once more, fingers firm in their hold. He smirks at the dazed look in her doe eyes, glassy as his words work through her mind on a loop. Though he should feel bad, he can’t help but relish her embarrassment. Hadn’t she been embarrassing him since her arrival, every time she would dart away from him and cower in fear just from his gaze?

“Please,” she whispers, swallowing a lump within her throat. His eyes seem to sparkle at her pleading.

He softly laughs. “Do you want me to touch you?” When she nods, eyebrows furrowed, “Use your words.”

Shame pools within her chest, squeezing around her heart as she continues to look up at him. Something inside her is begging to be released, pounding against her skull until every bone in her body rattles under its force. She doesn’t know what it is, or how to stop it, but her body draws itself closer to Aemond like he is the cure. Even now, as she gazes at his handsome face, all harsh lines and pouted lips, silver hair long and pulled back behind his head, eye a deep shade of violet, this thing within her only grows stronger in its fight to leave its prison. He is her betrothed, and a Prince of the realm, so who is she to deny him?

“Yes,” the word tastes like the sweetest poison on her tongue, and when he still makes no move to touch her, she continues. “Please, Aemond… touch me.”

She nearly cries when he smiles, leaning down to catch her lips, but her elation plummets when he doesn’t meet her embrace. Instead, his lips attach themselves to her jaw, tender as he licks and nips at the skin, traveling down her neck. Though she wants nothing more than his lips on hers, she still keens at the strange feeling, fingers tangling themselves into his long hair. His hands squeeze her hips, running up and down her sides, brushing against the bottom of her breasts. She arches into his touch, soft pants leaving her lips as he groans against her flesh.

Her feet start to step backwards as he pushes her, until she hits the stone wall behind her. His lips move to her heaving bosom, where the tops of her breasts sit within her dress, while his hand moves under her skirts, trailing along the bare skin of her thighs. They tremble beneath his touch, shutting close and trapping him there. He merely brings his leg between them, prying them back open so his hand can continue its journey to her weeping core. She shakes beneath him, sweat gathering at her brow, eyes pleading.

Aemond shushes her, bringing his lips back to hers, sighing as she pulls him closer and slips her tongue between them. When his hand slips under her undergarments, fingers nestling among her damp curls, she almost sobs, hips bucking up in shock. His other hand grabs onto her waist, stilling her movement as his fingers glide through her wetness, gathering the pool of arousal that sits along her hole. Her chest heaves, head dizzy with the new feeling, and she feels as if a bolt of lightning, white hot and blinding, has struck her. Hands grasp onto his shoulders for purchase, nails digging into the dark leather of his tunic, frantic as she looks for something to steady her racing heart.

“Seven hells, you’re soaked,” he gasps, fingers pressing against the apex of her, rubbing tight circles. “And here I thought you were afraid of me…”

She can barely comprehend his words, feeling as if her head is stuck in a cloud of smoke, heady and all-consuming. Her hands run down his shoulders and arms, now gripping onto his slim waist, pressing his body closer to her. His pale neck hovers over her face, and she can’t help but gravitate towards the unmarred skin, pressing her quivering lips to the base. Her tongue darts out to taste him, whimpering as she tries once more to move her hips. Aemond grunts, moving his fingers down to circle her leaking hole, the tip of his middle finger pressing in slowly.

As he presses the digit fully inside her, she presses her teeth into the nape of his neck, muffling her cry as he finally allows her to move her hips. He moans softly, grunting out her name at the feel of her bite, and she can feel something hard against her lower stomach, burning as it presses itself more to her. Tears spring to the corners of her starry eyes, tongue coming out once more to lick at the stinging bite mark she left, before resting her lips against him, panting. Her hips jolt upwards continuously, his name leaving her mouth like a prayer.

“Will you let me taste you?,” he nearly whines, rough voice cracking. His nose nudges against her temple. “Hm… ivestragī aōha dārilaros sylutegon ao, dōna riña.” (Let your prince taste you, sweet girl).

She gasps out, head nodding, though she’s not sure what she is agreeing to. Even so, she still wretches out, “y-yes.”

Aemond groans once more, pressing his lips to her forehead, before removing his fingers from her core. He’s quick to bend down on his knees, hands lifting up her skirts, dipping his head under the heavy fabric. She furrows her brows in confusion, but her question dies on her tongue as she feels his hot mouth press against her cunt, warm and wet. A strangled moan leaves her, and she throws her head back to stare up at the darkness above, lips parted as she gasps and whines. His tongue feels hot as it slips through her folds and circles her entrance, slurping up her arousal which practically pools out of her.

She can barely comprehend what is happening, her knees wobbly and her brain turned to mush, and all she can remember is his name. It leaves her lips like an incantation, continuously and fervently. Her hands try their best to gather her skirts, lifting them up and away from Aemond’s face, wishing to see him between her thighs. First, she spots a sliver of silver hair, and then, when she pulls the fabric back further, the rest of his head comes into view. His eye is closed, his focus solely on her cunt and how his tongue dips in and out of her. Fingers come up to rub at her once more, a deep grumble leaving him and vibrating through her core.

Something foreign begins to bubble up inside her, burning in its trail and cutting her open like a sharp sword. Her breath catches in her throat, chest heaving and heart stuttering against her ribcage, hips bucking up to chase the rising wave within her. Aemond flattens his tongue against her, another rumble leaving him, making her cry out. He opens his eye, staring up at her disheveled figure, his gaze molten and hungry. This look, and the feeling of him crooking a finger inside her once more, breaks her, and she moans and shudders, vision turning blurry as she’s pulled down under her cascading pleasure.

“Sȳz riña…” he groans, lapping up her essence as it flows out and onto his tongue. “Good fucking girl.”

Once she comes back down, she can barely keep standing, legs weakened and eyes heavy with sleepiness. Aemond stands, a satisfied hum leaving him as he pulls her against him, nose nuzzling in her hair. Instead of fear, she feels comfort as she rests in his arms, head resting on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. When he begins to trail kisses down her face, before capturing her lips with his own, she feels like swooning. Is this what she had been missing all along? Her betrothed… not someone to fear, but someone she could grow to love?

Aemond pulls away, fingers coming up to rest against her lips. “Taste yourself, dārilaros.” (Princess).

Timidly, she wraps her lips around his two digits, tongue cautious as it swirls around them. His gaze is dark as he watches her, and when he removes his fingers, he replaces them with his mouth, hot as it claims her own. On her hip, she can still feel that same stiffness against her, but she doesn’t question it as he finally steps away from her, a small smirk on his handsome face.

“In just a few days, we will be wed, my lady. When I take you to my bed, I will spend all night showing you why you shouldn’t fear me.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon

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gojoidyll · 7 months ago

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stubborn heart ch. 6

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

previous | next

“M’lady,” your maid bowed to you as she opened your carriage door. After getting ready for the day, you had quickly left the house with your maid following after.

“Thank you,” you said as your attention was soon brought to the bookstore. It was the best one that Snezhnaya has with a grand selection all around. Just thinking about what books you could get today excited you to no end.

“Back again,” the cashier said with a grin as you entered the bookstore. Smiling sheepishly at being recognized so easily, you nodded, “it seems I just can’t stay away,” you answered.

“Your patronage is always appreciated. If you need help finding anything, please don’t be afraid to ask.”

You pondered her words for a moment, before nodding to yourself, “about that. Do you think you can give me some book recommendations?”

The cashier immediately brightened at your words as she clapped her hands together, “I would be happy to! I have some favorites that I have just been dying to share with people, but its always hard to find people who are interested in the same thing…”

“Well,” you started, “I’ve been told that I would read just about anything. Back at the Hearth I would resort to reading cookbooks or how to manuals if I ran out my normal reading material.”

The cashier chuckled at your words, “well, not to worry, I won’t be recommending anything like that,” she moved from behind the counter and gestured for you to follow, “come on, I’ll show you where my favorite section is.”

When she turned to walk off you and your maid followed.

“And here we are,” she stopped in front an aisle and walked into it, and as she would run her fingers along the spines of the book she stopped on a specific one, “this one was just too good,” she said as she pulled it out, but before she handed it to you, she hesitated.

“Something wrong,” you asked.

“Well.. how do you feel about romance books?”

“Oh! I like them a lot! It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“And what about romance with a little… spice to it?”

Spice? You weren’t exactly sure what that meant…

“Uhm, sure. I’m fine with that too.”

“Perfect!”

Her hesitation was long gone as she handed the book to you, “Arkan is by far the perfect fictional man by the way, he’ll have you wishing you were in the book!”

You looked down at the title as she handed it to you.

Most of the romance books you read were short fantasy stories, and most of the time the main characters only had titles and didn’t have names. Like the book Capitano was reading to you. The princess, knight, and the prince didn’t have any names or stuff like that. So, having a romance book with characters who had actual names may be a good change of pace.

“Thank you! Do you by chance have any other recommendations?”

“Of course!”

Throughout the rest of the time you spent there, the cashier lady kept telling you the level of spice of a book which continued to confuse you, but not wanting to seem like an idiot you kept acting like you knew what she was talking about. Though, luckily, she did give you some books to buy that didn’t have any “spice” in them whatsoever.

“M’lady,” your maid said as you both finally made it back to the manor.

“Yes,” you asked as you helped her carry the many books you had bought today.

“You… do know what that cashier meant, right?”

“About what?”

“Spice.”

You two had made it to the library easily, the both of you quickly setting the books down to give your arms a break.

“Uhm… about that,” you said with a sheepish look on your face, “not really.”

Your maid seemed to blush lightly at your words as she reached for your hand, “then please excuse me, I don’t know how to tell you this but…”

“But what?”

“The amount of spice in a book correlates to the amount of sexual content it has.”

Your maid broke it down to you as if she was telling you that your pet dog died.

“Hah?”

It took a few moments for your brain to properly register what she had just told you, “HAAAAAAH?!?!?!”

You broke your hand free from her grasp as immediately slapped both of your hands to your burning hot cheeks, “what do you mean?!?!!? Are you telling me that I just b-bought- bought sex books?!”

“Well,” she said, “its not like every single page is specifically sex, but if its super spicy then I can guarantee you that there will probably be a lot of it…”

You crouched down to the floor, your hands falling from your red, hot cheeks as you went to hug yourself. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

You heard of sex, of course, but you never once did it yourself nor do you know how to do it. Hell, even when the other older girls in the hearth started talking about their “experiences” and even how they pleasure themselves alone you would always run out of the room. You always thought that that it was a topic you didn’t need to know, but of course that all changed when you literally got married a mere few days ago. Which, of course, is why you get so nervous every time the word consummate left Capitano’s mouth.

“M'lady?”

She crouched down next to you as she laid her hand on your back as if she was trying to soothe you.

“Yeah?”

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. You didn’t know.”

“I know, but if Capitano finds out then that will just be another dumb thing I did that he’ll add to the list… I haven’t exactly been giving him the best impressions you know.”

Your maid patted your back, “don’t worry, he doesn’t have to know.”

Once again, your mind took a few moments to comprehend what she said, “h- huh? You- you aren’t going to tell him that I accidentally bought these types of books?”

Your maid shook her head, “of course not.”

You sniffled a little, “should we- should we take them back?”

Your maid shook her head at that, “to be honest, I think reading about sex will be easier for you than asking someone about it. I mean,” she giggled, “you and Lord Capitano have to consummate the marriage at some point.”

You scoffed, “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry, but it is kind of funny!”

You huffed and looked away from her causing her to laugh again before patting your back once again, “but I am serious. Reading books like that can at least give you an idea of what to do.”

You sighed and thought it over. As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. You had no one to ask about how to properly have sex with someone and you definitely didn’t want to ask Father or Capitano about it. And you know you would be a laughingstock to the others at the Hearth if you asked them…

Maybe reading about it will help after all? Besides, it would be less embarrassing since it means you wouldn’t have to ask anyone, and as long as Capitano doesn’t find out about it, then you won’t have to crawl under a rock or try to explain yourself on how you accidentally bought some not so safe books.

“So?”

You sighed, “well, it would be better to read then ask about it, I guess…, but please. I’m being for real, don’t tell anyone about my screw up today.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Right then and there, a new friendship bloomed. You learned that her name was Atri and in return you asked if she would stop calling you m’lady. She said she would, but only when no one else was around. To which you were you happy with.

taglist

@nas-ha @simp-simp-no-mi @emmathecouchpotato4583 @sendria @riotakire @littlekohai77 @lvtuss @kreishin @floffytofu @nastylilcvnt @mikoslightnovels @feral-childs-word @barbatoss-bitch @venicecherryblossom @squirrelboxer @temperamentupgrade @avalordream @immahuman @xavlyzn @greensunflowerjuna @sarah22447 @naviabestgiirl @nevermoresworld @depressedbearblogs @ppancakesforu @0vendettaself @lilyalone @mochiivqi

some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

#genshin impact #genshin #capitano #genshin capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x you #capitano x y/n #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x you #yandere capitano x y/n

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novaursa · 8 months ago

Note

okk hear me out!

gwayne x daemon daughter // kink repro

We all remember the tournament in s1, just imagine viserys decide that his niece (who is younger than nyra maybe 16) should marry sir gwayne to make more strength between their houses.

time pass they fell in love in oldtown and they raided Daeron as their own. They all come back when Luke was name heir of drifmark (during the audience). Daemon is furious to see her with gwayne.

But their chamber is right next to daemon and nyra, and at night gwayne is way more than ready to make understand that she is his 😏🔥

In Defiance of the Dragon

- Summary: When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The air in the tournament grounds is drenched with the scent of crushed flowers and churned earth, the banners of noble houses fluttering like the wings of restless dragons. The sun casts a golden shine over the scene, making the polished armor of the knights gleam like fire. You stand at the edge of the royal pavilion, a place of honor, though it feels more like a cage at this moment. Your heart pounds in your chest as the king—your uncle, Viserys—raises his hand to command silence.

The crowd hushes, anticipation hanging in the air. You can feel the weight of a thousand eyes upon you, but none as heavy as the gaze of Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence is unmistakable even among the throng of knights, his armor adorned with the sigil of his house, the beacon of the Hightower shining bright against the steel. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a fleeting moment that seems to stretch into eternity. There is something in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a plea for understanding.

Viserys’ voice booms across the grounds, his words carrying the weight of royal decree. "Today, before the tilts commence, let it be known that my beloved niece, the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, shall be wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower. This union shall strengthen the bond between our noble houses, binding the blood of Old Valyria to the steadfast walls of Oldtown."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Otto Hightower, standing beside the king, allows himself a thin, satisfied smile. The whisper of steel, the low hum of murmurs, and the occasional startled cry from the gathered lords and ladies mingle with the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower exchange a glance, though their expressions reveal little. You know Rhaenyra's thoughts well enough; her small hand squeezes yours briefly, a silent assurance.

Your eyes dart to the stands where your father, Prince Daemon, lounges. His posture is deceptively relaxed, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the arm of his seat. His eyes—those unmistakable violet eyes—burn with an intensity that sets your nerves on edge. When he rises from his seat, you feel a tremor of fear run through you, though you fight to keep your face composed.

Daemon’s voice, sharp and cutting, pierces the air. "I would face Ser Gwayne in the first tilt. Let us see if this union has the favor of the gods."

The crowd roars in approval, eager for the bloodshed and spectacle that is sure to follow. Gwayne’s gaze shifts, now locked onto Daemon’s. You see the flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by the steel of resolve. He inclines his head, accepting the challenge with a courtly grace that belies the danger he now faces.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The fear gnaws at you, a beast with claws that rake against your insides. You force yourself to remain still, even as every instinct screams at you to intervene, to do something—anything—to protect Gwayne from your father’s wrath.

Alicent notices your distress, her voice a gentle whisper in your ear. "Do not fear, my lady. Ser Gwayne is a skilled knight. He will honor you in this contest."

Her words are meant to comfort, but they do little to soothe the storm raging within you. Your eyes dart between the two men who now occupy your every thought—the father who has always shielded you with his fierce love, and the knight who has stolen your heart with his quiet strength. What would your father say if he knew how often Gwayne had filled your thoughts, how often you had dreamed of a future together, away from the politics and dangers of the court?

As the knights prepare for the tilt, you can barely breathe. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar in your ears, and all you can focus on is the two figures facing each other across the field. Daemon’s black armor, dark as night and adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, stands in stark contrast to Gwayne’s silvered plate. The dragon against the tower—a battle that feels all too symbolic.

Rhaenyra leans in close, her voice urgent and low. "You know your father, sister. He won’t hold back. You must steel yourself."

"I know," you whisper, though your voice trembles with the effort of holding back the fear that threatens to overwhelm you. You cannot let anyone see how deeply this affects you—not Rhaenyra, not Alicent, and certainly not your father.

The trumpets blare, signaling the beginning of the tilt. The horses rear, their hooves pounding the earth as Daemon and Gwayne charge at each other. Time slows to a crawl, and you can only watch, helpless, as the gap between them closes.

The impact is thunderous, the sound of steel against steel ringing out across the field. The force of the blow unseats Gwayne, and he crashes to the ground in a heap of armor and dust. Your heart lurches in your chest, and you rise to your feet, barely aware of the gasps and cries around you.

"Gwayne!" you hear yourself cry out, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

The crowd is on its feet, roaring with excitement, but all you can see is Gwayne, motionless on the ground. The world blurs as tears well in your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to show any weakness.

Daemon circles back, his expression inscrutable behind his helm, but you can feel his eyes on you. This was no accident; he wanted to make a point, to remind everyone that no one—Hightower or otherwise—would take what belonged to a dragon without consequence.

But then, Gwayne stirs. He rises slowly, his movements pained but determined. Relief floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by a renewed sense of dread. Daemon is not done—not yet.

Before you can react, Gwayne is back on his feet, his eyes locked onto Daemon's. The defiance in his stance is clear—he will not yield, not even to a prince of the blood. You feel a swell of pride for him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

Daemon, sensing the mood of the crowd shifting, raises his lance once more, ready for another pass. But this time, something in Gwayne’s demeanor gives you hope. His gaze flickers to you for the briefest of moments, and you see the silent vow in his eyes—a promise to fight for you, no matter the odds.

The horses charge again, and this time, Gwayne meets Daemon’s strike with a fierce determination. The impact is brutal, but Gwayne holds his ground, refusing to be unseated. The crowd roars its approval, the tension in the air is felt.

When the dust settles, both knights remain in their saddles, battered but unbroken. It is Daemon who finally raises his hand, signaling the end of the tilt. There is no victor, no vanquished—only two men who have tested each other’s mettle and found themselves equally matched.

The relief that washes over you is overwhelming, and you sink back into your seat, your hands trembling in your lap. You dare a glance at Gwayne, who inclines his head to you with a slight, weary smile. It is a small gesture, but it fills your heart with warmth.

As Daemon dismounts, he casts a long, lingering look in your direction. There is something unspoken in his gaze, a challenge, perhaps—or a warning. But for now, you do not care. You have seen Gwayne survive your father’s wrath, and that is enough for you.

For the first time since this day began, you allow yourself a small, secret smile. The road ahead may be fraught with danger and intrigue, but you will face it with the courage of a dragon—and with Gwayne by your side.

You stand at the window of the Hightower, looking out over the sprawling city of Oldtown, where the cobbled streets wind like serpents beneath the autumn sun. The air is cool, tinged with the salt of the Whispering Sound, carrying with it the scent of the sea that you’ve come to know so well. The bells from the Starry Sept toll the hour, their sound reverberating through the stone walls of your home.

Your home. It’s a thought that still brings a small smile to your lips, even after all these years. The Hightower is vast, imposing, and ancient, its walls steeped in the history of Oldtown and the Hightowers themselves. Yet within these walls, you have found something unexpected—peace, and more than that, love.

Gwayne is beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a comforting weight. His touch is gentle, yet there’s a strength in it that you’ve come to depend on. He’s watching you with that soft expression that always melts the last of your worries away, the lines of his face relaxed, his grey eyes bright with the warmth of the afternoon light.

“He’s arrived,” Gwayne says, his voice low and calm, a grounding presence. You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, the unspoken question in your eyes.

“Prince Daeron,” he clarifies, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Alicent’s letter arrived this morning, and they’ll be here within the hour.”

You nod, the familiar flutter of anticipation and duty stirring in your chest. Prince Daeron, the youngest son of Queen Alicent, sent to Oldtown to be raised and educated under the care of your husband’s family. It’s a great honor, of course, but more than that, it feels like a trust, a bond that ties your houses closer together.

Gwayne’s hand moves from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “He’s young, but from what we’ve heard, he’s bright and eager to learn. He’ll thrive here, I’m sure of it.”

You smile at his optimism, leaning into him slightly. “We’ll make sure of it,” you reply, your voice carrying the quiet determination that has grown within you over the years. Oldtown has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you and Gwayne have built a life together, despite the stormy beginnings of your union.

You can still remember the day of the tourney, the way your heart had pounded with fear as your father had chosen Gwayne as his opponent. The memory lingers like a shadow, but it’s one you’ve learned to live with, just as you’ve learned to live with the man who became your husband.

Gwayne, sensing the shift in your mood, squeezes your hand gently. “He’ll have the best tutors, the finest training. And he’ll have us.”

“Yes,” you agree, turning your gaze back to the city below. “He’ll have us.”

The grand hall of the Hightower is filled with the warmth of a roaring fire, the stone hearth dominating the room. The thick tapestries that line the walls soften the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat fills the air.

Daeron is smaller than you expected, a boy of perhaps seven years, with a mop of silver hair that falls into his eyes. Those eyes, so much like his mother’s, are wide with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness as he stands before you and Gwayne.

“Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Daeron,” Gwayne says, his voice kind but formal, as befits the occasion. He kneels slightly, bringing himself closer to the boy’s level, a gesture of respect and warmth that seems to put Daeron at ease.

The boy glances up at you, his lips parting in a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” he replies, his voice small but clear. Then, turning to you, he adds, “My lady.”

You kneel beside Gwayne, reaching out to take Daeron’s hand in yours. His fingers are cold, and you can feel the slight tremor in them. “You’ll be safe here, Prince Daeron,” you assure him softly. “This is your home now.”

Daeron looks up at you, his young face a mix of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also trust. It’s a look that tugs at your heart, and you find yourself wanting to protect this boy, to give him the guidance and care that only family can provide.

“We’ll take good care of you,” you promise, your voice gentle but firm. “Just as we would our own.”

The boy nods, and you can see the tension in his small shoulders begin to ease. He looks around the hall, taking in the grandeur of the Hightower, the vastness of the space that is now his home. There’s still fear in his eyes, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—hope.

Gwayne rises to his feet, offering his hand to you. “Come,” he says to Daeron, “let’s show you the rest of the Hightower. There’s much to see, and I believe the maester has prepared something special for your arrival.”

Daeron hesitates for just a moment before he takes Gwayne’s offered hand, his small fingers gripping tightly as though seeking reassurance. You stand beside them, a silent guardian of this new bond that is being forged.

As you walk through the halls, Gwayne points out various tapestries, statues, and paintings, telling stories of the history of the Hightowers and Oldtown. Daeron listens intently, his earlier nervousness slowly melting away under the gentle guidance of your husband.

When you reach the maester’s chambers, you’re greeted by the sight of a table laden with books, scrolls, and an array of strange instruments that immediately capture Daeron’s interest. The maester, a kindly old man with a beard as white as snow, greets Daeron with a deep bow.

“Prince Daeron,” the maester says warmly, “I’ve prepared a special lesson for you, one that I think you’ll find quite interesting.”

Daeron’s eyes light up with curiosity, and for the first time since his arrival, you see a genuine smile on his face. He looks up at you and Gwayne, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he says, his voice more confident now.

Gwayne squeezes your hand, and you can’t help but return the smile. This, you realize, is what it means to be a family—not just by blood, but by the bonds you choose to create. In this moment, with the warmth of the fire and the promise of a new beginning, you feel something settle in your heart, a sense of fulfillment that you hadn’t known you were missing.

As Daeron sits down with the maester, already engrossed in the lesson that has been prepared for him, you and Gwayne share a look, a silent understanding passing between you.

And in this moment, as you both watch Daeron eagerly absorb the knowledge being offered to him, you know that you wouldn’t have your life being lived in any other way.

The halls of the Red Keep are as imposing as ever as you and Gwayne make your way through the corridors. It's been years since you last walked these halls, and yet they feel as familiar as ever—haunted by memories both bitter and sweet.

Gwayne’s hand rests on your elbow, guiding you through the maze of the castle with practiced ease. He’s dressed in the colors of his house, the green and silver of the Hightowers, his expression calm and composed as always. But you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath the surface, the way his gaze sharpens when he hears a distant sound, always vigilant, always protective.

You both turn a corner and nearly collide with a small entourage, led by none other than Rhaenyra herself. She’s flanked by her husband—your father, Daemon—and their children, their steps purposeful, their expressions tense. Rhaenyra’s silver hair gleams under the flickering torchlight, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise as she sees you.

“Rhaenyra,” you greet her, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the uncertainty you feel. So much has changed, yet seeing her here, a part of you yearns for the easy camaraderie you once shared as children.

“Cousin,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice warm despite the strain visible on her face. She glances at Gwayne and then back at you, her gaze searching, perhaps for some sign of how the years have treated you. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” you agree, your eyes flicking to Daemon, who stands slightly behind Rhaenyra, his gaze locked on Gwayne. There’s a tension in his stance, a stiffness that wasn’t there before, and you know immediately that your father is displeased.

Daemon’s eyes are dark, and though he remains silent, the disapproval is clear. His gaze travels from Gwayne to you, then back again, lingering on the clasped hands between you and your husband. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and for a moment, the air seems to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved history.

“You’re back in the capital for the petitions, I presume?” Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence, her tone carefully neutral. The mention of the petitions brings you back to the grim reality of why you’re all here—the matter of Driftmark, and the question of succession that has thrown the court into turmoil.

“Yes,” Gwayne answers before you can, his voice firm. “We came as soon as we heard.” He glances at Daemon, his expression respectful but guarded. “It seems the crown’s decision is in favor of your son.”

Rhaenyra’s face softens at the mention of Lucerys, but before she can respond, a voice from behind her interrupts. It’s Jacaerys, his young face set in determination. “The matter should have never been in question. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark.”

You see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that once burned in Rhaenyra at that age. It’s both heartening and concerning, especially now, in these treacherous waters.

“That he is,” you say gently, offering a smile to Jacaerys. “And it’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’ll make a fine lord.”

Before Jacaerys can respond, Daemon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes are locked onto yours now, and there’s a storm brewing behind them, a mix of emotions you can’t fully decipher. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, carrying the weight of a warning.

“You’ve found happiness in Oldtown, I see.” The words are directed at you, but his gaze shifts to Gwayne as he says it, his tone laced with something darker. “Though I wonder if the cost was worth it.”

You feel Gwayne’s hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of support. “Happiness is not something to be questioned, Father,” you reply calmly, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “Nor is the loyalty I hold to both my families.”

Daemon’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to say something more, but Rhaenyra places a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to hold his tongue. There’s a brief moment where it seems he might ignore her, but then he lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“We’re here to support our family,” Gwayne adds, his voice measured, addressing Daemon directly now. “In whatever way is needed.”

Daemon studies Gwayne for a long moment, the silence between them stretching thin. Finally, he gives a curt nod, though the hardness in his gaze doesn’t entirely soften. “As you should,” he says, the words clipped, before turning back to Rhaenyra.

“Come, we have business with the king,” he says to her, his voice brooking no argument.

Rhaenyra hesitates, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “We’ll speak later,” she promises, offering a small, genuine smile before following after Daemon, their children trailing behind her.

As they walk away, the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you standing beside Gwayne in the dimly lit corridor. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, leaning slightly into your husband’s side. Gwayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his warmth a comfort against the chill that lingers in the air.

“That went… better than I expected,” Gwayne murmurs, a touch of wry humor in his voice, though you can hear the relief beneath it.

“He’s never going to fully approve,” you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the spot where your father had stood. “But he’ll have to accept it.”

Gwayne turns to you, his expression softening as he looks down into your eyes. “I don’t need his approval,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile at that, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes, banishing the last of the unease. “And I have you,” you reply, your voice filled with the love and certainty that have grown between you over the years.

The heavy oak door of your chambers shuts behind you, a soft thud echoing through the room. The warmth of the fire flickers across the stone walls that dance in tandem with your heightened pulse. Gwayne stands before you, his emerald eyes sharp and intense, still simmering with the tension of your earlier encounter in the halls. He says nothing as he approaches, but the way his hand reaches for your waist and pulls you flush against him speaks volumes.

You’ve grown accustomed to the feel of him—the strength in his embrace, the heat of his breath against your skin—but tonight there is something different, something more urgent. The lingering traces of your father’s displeasure hang between you, and you know, without words, that it fuels Gwayne’s every movement.

His lips descend upon yours, fierce and claiming, tasting of the wine shared at the evening’s feast. You respond in kind, your hands weaving through the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could erase the earlier tension through sheer proximity.

His hands roam across your body with practiced familiarity, fingers curling around the ties of your gown, loosening the laces with deliberate slowness. Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I will make you scream for me tonight,” he promises, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air—Let him hear.

Your heart flutters in response, not with fear, but with anticipation. The thought of your father just beyond the walls, likely brooding over his anger, stirs something within you. How often had Daemon whispered venom into your ear about the Hightowers, about how they were a poison slowly strangling your family? And yet here you are, wrapped in the arms of one who bears that very name, bound to him not only by vows but by something far deeper, something that even your father’s fury cannot tarnish.

Gwayne’s touch turns rougher, more insistent, and your breath catches in your throat as he lifts you with ease, laying you down onto the bed. The covers crumple beneath your weight, the mattress giving way as he settles over you, his eyes burning with a hunger that matches your own. “I want him to know,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing fire down your throat, “that you belong to me.”

Your back arches involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip, the need to hold back your cries warring with the knowledge of who might hear. Gwayne’s hands grasp your hips, his grip possessive as he moves against you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each movement, each deliberate thrust, is a challenge—a challenge to the walls that separate your chambers from those of your father and his wife.

The pressure builds inside you, the familiar heat coiling in your belly, and you grasp at Gwayne’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you fight against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you. His mouth hovers over yours, demanding, coaxing you to give in, to let go.

And then you remember—Daemon’s chambers are just beyond. The thought of his reaction, of his barely concealed rage at the idea of you finding joy with a Hightower, sends a thrill through you. You gasp aloud as Gwayne drives into you harder, his breath ragged in your ear, “Louder,” he commands, his voice a mix of authority and need.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, letting the sound of his name tear from your lips, louder than before, louder than you ever have. You imagine the look on your father’s face, his fists clenched in helpless fury, and the thought sends you spiraling into a pleasure so intense it nearly blinds you.

Gwayne’s name tumbles from your lips again and again, each cry more fervent than the last, as he brings you to the edge and beyond. You feel his satisfaction in the way he groans your name in return, his hold on you unyielding, as though he could anchor himself to you through sheer force of will.

When it’s over, when the last echoes of your cries have faded into the night, you lay beside him, your body spent and trembling, but your mind still racing. Gwayne’s hand rests possessively on your hip, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of exertion. “He heard you,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You can only nod, the thought of what tomorrow might bring swirling in your mind. But for now, there is only this—only you and Gwayne, and the knowledge that whatever storm your father’s ire might bring, you would weather it together.

In the silence that follows, you curl closer to Gwayne, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Tomorrow…” you begin, but your voice trails off.

“Tomorrow,” Gwayne echoes, his tone firm, reassuring, “we will face whatever comes. But tonight, you are mine, and that is all that matters.”

You smile softly at his words, closing your eyes as sleep finally begins to claim you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd gwayne #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne x y/n #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne

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ceoofglytchell · 8 months ago

Text

Butterfly

| Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 |

Summary: That fateful night on Driftmark Aegon has made a promise to you, one that he has even once never forgotten, while you were gone. However now six years later you return to him and- gods be good- he is going to make that promise a reality and he most certainly won't let you leave him another time.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader

Word count: 4214 words

Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong like features, Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's second child, fluff, angst, longing, thoughts of major dubcon (it’s only a thought and does not really happen), kinda miscommunication, hurt/comfort, allusions to smut, aegon being miserable, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I was not feeling good last week, but I am back now with this piece here, but I’m not sure if it’s good. But, as always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language. Enjoy 💛

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"I promise that one day I will marry you."

Never once in your life have you forgotten the promise that your uncle Aegon had given you six years ago on the shores of Driftmark. Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he knew that your families would never let a union between the two of you come to be, but a boy could dream. At least that was how he had justified the vow later on when you had to separate the following morning.

You have always wished that your beloved uncle would fulfill his very promise one day, but unfortunately the chance got slimmer and slimmer the more years passed and the more protective your mother has gotten over you, because as Rhaenyra's first and only daughter nothing was easy.

You were born with brown curls and hazel eyes like your brothers, making the sin your mother had committed all the more obvious to anyone else, a walking reminder of her carelessness. However you were born much smaller in comparison to your brothers and even as you grew you remained petite and delicately looking, which caused Rhaenyra to fuss over you like a mother hen constantly, as if she feared you to be a porcelain doll that could shatter into a million pieces with just a touch. She certainly treated you this way.

Aegon however has always seen the watchful eyes and silent warning glances of his half-sister to be more of a challenge than an actual prohibition.

The prince had always been enamored with you, his little niece, but he has always bottled up all his hidden feelings for you within himself so it was only natural that one time where he had swallowed down cup after cup of dornish wine and you sat by him and held his hand after he had been scolded by his grandsire, the words spilled out of his mouth like a river.

He had barely been able to remember it the next morning, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks when he stood before you to say his goodbyes, he knew that you knew. It was either a curse or a blessing, but even as he had watched you leave with your mother, brothers, and a few of the servants, he had known that he would see you again one day and if he did, he would take you as his wife.

You were not sure what you had imagined when you and your family returned to King’s Landing after so many years to assure yourselves that Lucery's claim to the island of Driftmark was defined and would not be contested, but no matter how easy this task seemed to be on the first look, you quickly learned that this was not the case. Vaemond Velaryon and your great-aunt Rhaenys had also come.

However, their presence brought you less out of the concept than to see Aemond beating Ser Criston during sparring on the courtyard as if the man was nothing but a normal knight and not a loyal and trusted member of the King’s Guard. His cold look, when he had seen you and your brothers, made a shiver run down your back and a spark of fear set its roots within yourself, even if you had nothing to do with the tragic loss of his eye.

On that dark night you were with Aegon when it had happened. The older prince had drunken too many cups of wine and stumbled down the stairs that led down to the beach and hit his head. You had sat with him afterwards and watched over him, while he had clung to you as if you were the very last thing that kept him rooted to this world and that kept him from loosing himself to the darkness within his heart.

And then he had given you that promise. That one terrible promise that has been on your mind every single day, which had taken a special place in the depths of your heart. He had promised to marry you and you knew that he would do it, if you would get permission, which you doubted, however, because your mother wanted nothing to do with her half-siblings whatsoever.

You were reminded of said promise when you faced him again in the throne room after six long years; He and his family dressed in Hightower green and gold and you with yours in Targaryen red and black. The difference could not be greater and the tension that lay in the hall could be felt by everyone.

You tried to stick to your mother's words, you really did, but over and over again your warm gaze found his and every time you caught him staring right back at you, an unknown glimmer in his amethyst colored eyes, which you neither could nor wanted to explain.

However, things escalated quickly and your mother quickly pulled you out of the throne room by the arm, leaving the headless body of Vaemond Velaryon behind on the cold stone floor, for which your stepfather was responsible, the word 'bastards' echoing in your ears. It was not easy to be confronted with the truth after all these years, which your mother tried to hide so convulsively, although it was obviously in everyone's eyes and the entire realm knew the truth of your parentage.

Your shocked eyes found those from Aegon before you vanished behind the doors and you immediately knew that this was not the last time you would see him that evening- and you were right.

Your maids, who were also some of your closest friends at the same time, were currently dressing you for dinner when it suddenly knocked on the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, which still looked exactly the same before you had been forced to leave back then. Without having allowed him to come inside, Aegon stepped into the privacy of your old chambers, which were illuminated with flickering candles, whereupon the servants stopped tugging uncomfortably on your hair and stepped away from you, bowing their heads as was custom.

"You may leave us," you told the other women, whereupon they all looked at you with a questioning frown.

"But princess-" "Please, I can do it."

Neither you nor the maids knew really whether you meant your hair or the prince who stared at you without having lost a word so far, which was extremely untypical for your uncle. However, the cup of wine in his right hand was familiar and you immediately became painfully aware of how much you had missed him.

The moment the doors fell shut again and you both were alone in the room and actually stood in front of each other for the first time again in six years, a bright grin broke out on his face and he slowly took a few steps to get closer to you. "Welcome home, little butterfly."

You didn't know exactly what it was; the nickname, his voice, which had matured, or the fact that you finally looked at him again after such a long time, but you couldn't help but close the distance between you two and jump right into his arms.

Aegon was surprised for a brief moment, but he immediately returned your gesture and wrapped his arms around you as well and pressed your slender body tightly against his, burying his nose into your long brown curls, which were half put together into a braid, which was not finished, because you had sent your handmaidens out of the room as soon as you had laid your eyes on him.

He could hear how a quiet, content sigh escaped your lips, whereupon he felt himself relax in your embrace and he felt his grip around his golden cup of wine loosen slightly as if you were the sole cure for the addiction he had developed. After all these years and although you both have grown and changed, you still fit perfectly against him like the last piece of a puzzle that had finally found its rightful place.

"You cut your hair," you noticed with an audible smile in your gentle voice and you immediately snuggled closer to him as if the sole thought of being parted from him for a second time was unthinkable for you.

"And you have grown- if only a little."

You hit him playfully against his shoulder and leaned back a little so that you could look him into his lilac eyes, which you noticed no longer held the same glint as they had back then. In addition, deep dark circles under his eyes adorned his handsome face and he had become even paler, which was why you feared that you needed to worry about his health. He also looked very much tired. However, these little details did not change the fact that the man in front of you was as beautiful as he had been back then if not more.

"Still feisty, I see, butterfly."

"You did not forget it," you noticed with an almost melancholic smile on your rosy lips. Ever since you were children and a small white butterfly had landed on your head in the Godswood, which would happen two or three times more over time, he called you by the name of the animal, since you were probably just as fragile and delicate, you mused. At the beginning you did not really enjoy it, but over time you wanted to hear him say it over and over again- now too.

"Of course not. I would never forget you, my darling."

"Stop it." You looked down onto the ground so that he would not see the obvious blush on your cheeks, but he did regardless. As for you, he paid attention to everything, every little detail.

"I did not forget my promise to you either." The prince said and stroked with one hand over the length of your arm, which was covered by a silken red sleeve. Actually, you did not want to wear a red dress to dinner, as it would only illustrate the fronts between the two sides of your families, but your mother insisted on it. You personally have always preferred lighter colors.

"Really? You appeared to be very much... drunk when you gave it to me, Aegon." You carefully replied while you hesitantly grabbed his hand, the contact igniting a feeling of warmth in you, which you had been longing for as well.

"I was drunk, that much is true. However, I always am and I remember very well that I said that I would marry you."

"This was so long ago-" you said with a quick shake of the head, because you knew that time did not change anything about what he felt for you and what you felt for him. A marriage between the two of you would never be agreed to, even if you could not imagine marrying someone other than him. The hatred between the two sides of your family was just too big and your love would not mend the crack again.

"No, I am serious. Be my wife, please. There is no day that I did not think of you and wanted you to be by my side." He reached for your hands and held them firmly in his own as if that alone could convince you to marry him without further ado and preferably that evening right after having had dinner. He would not allow you to get betrothed, because then he would lose the opportunity to have the only person who has ever taken care of him and who has actually listened to what he had to say. If you were not there, he was miserable- the last few years have been proof of it.

On the other hand, you were completely perplexed and overwhelmed with the situation. You wanted him. He was the only one who had never treated you like a fragile doll or a mindless duckling, but just like a girl like any other and you liked that. You did not want to be considered weak by everyone- of all the dragons you rode Silverwing, by the gods, you were not weak. It was bad enough that you were a dragon rider and your mother did not allow you to ride as much as you would have liked.

Unfortunately, the truth was that Rhaenyra and Alicent would never agree to a union between him and you. They would rather die or burn in the seven hells and you wanted to save yourself the pain that would follow if you asked and the two older women would vehemently forbid it even if nothing spoke against it and it would actually serve to strengthen House Targaryen for future generations. Unfortunately, it was more likely that at some point he would marry one of the daughters of Lord Baratheon or his own sister Helaena and that you would have to marry Lord Cregan Stark eventually.

"You don't know me anymore. If you excuse me, my prince, I have to continue preparing myself for dinner now.”

With a jerk you pulled your hands out of his and sat down at your dressing table, trying to ignore him and push him away from you, because you would not be able to allow your feelings for him to bloom now and in the end you would have to spend your life with another. You would not be able to bear it. The prince looked at you with an expression of utter disbelief on his features, until then a flicker of anger crossed his gaze and he stormed out of your chambers without hesitation, the door falling shut so loudly that it made you flinch.

You just wanted to protect him as well as yourself.

Later at dinner you watched Aegon drowning himself in alcohol and staring at his plate without touching the food at all. Aemond, who sat on the other side of the table, stared at your siblings and you at all times, not letting you out of his sight, until it suddenly escalated and a single toast made everyone become aware of how fragile the bond that held your family together actually was.

Shortly afterwards, your mother informed you that you would return to dragonstone the very next morning and you felt right in your decision to have pushed away the man for whom you had deeper feelings for. It was better for both of you. At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

You told that to yourself when you came back to your rooms and found them empty and dark, you told yourself when you sat alone in front of the fireplace and loosened your braids, when you undressed, put on a light nightgown, and you kept repeating it to yourself when you climbed in bed at last and slowly began to fall into a peaceful sleep. You would not be able to bear the pain that would follow if you allowed yourself to actually be with him.

Aegon still felt the taste of dornish wine on his tongue and its effects clouding his senses when he stood in the middle of the night in the darkness of your bedchambers and stared down at your sleeping form in your bed, the moonlight that fell through the windows illuminating your soft features like you were the very image of the Maiden. He was slightly shaky on his feet and he was well aware that he should not be here, but he just could not control himself. Your rejection before dinner and the way you refused to speak a single word to him while you had sat beside each other had robbed him of his last bit of sanity and he just had to know what you felt.

He had a simple plan; slipping inside your rooms unnoticed, tainting your honor and showing his mother the proof of it in the morning, because then she would have to agree to a union just like his half-sister, since you would ruined for any other man. His plan had been so simple, he would just have to tear the blanket right of you, push your nightgown up to your hips and take his pleasure, but when he approached the edge of your bed and saw how peaceful you looked like sleeping, he could not bring himself to do it.

The prince felt a lump forming in his throat, his heart becoming heavy and he could not help but kneel on the floor next to the bed, while he buried his face next to yours in the pillow in the hope that you would not notice the tears of shame burning in his eyes. You should just sleep on and never find out that he was even here. He was a monster for even thinking of ruining you.

He sobbed into your plush pillows, his hands fisting the silken bed sheets tightly when he suddenly felt something stirring beside him on the mattress, but he did not raise his head just yet. He did not want to look you in the eye after what he had originally come for.

"Uncle? What happened?"

Your gentle voice was like a balm for his soul, but he still continued to quietly sob into your pillows. You did not even ask why he was here, but what had happened. Even now you took care of him, although you had wanted to distance yourself from him a few hours ago for a reason that he simply could and would not understand.

"What have I done? Why are you pushing me away from you? What has changed?”

You quickly rubbed the remnants of sleep out of your eyes and you began to caress his back with your small hands, which made a shiver run down his spine and the tears on his wet cheeks slowly started to dry because no new ones fell, at least not right now. Like always, your touch calmed him.

"Why are you here?" You asked him instead of giving him an answer to his previous questions, because you could not tell him the truth. To see how the man you loved cried on the edge of your bed because of something that you had done when you had actually just wished to protect him from that very pain was making your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You did not want to feel this pain nor did you want him to experience it. What have you done?

"Don't go," he murmured and finally raised his head slightly again to look at you with his reddened, swollen eyes, even if the room was dark and both of you could barely make each other out in the dark.

"Don't leave me a second time, please. Not again... don’t do this to me."

You sighed and sat up in bed, because this was exactly what you had not wanted to happen. His sensitivity was no secret to you and you knew how much you meant to him and how much he meant to you. Your mother had decided that you would return to dragonstone and you could not argue against her decision after what had happened today at dinner. Your house was more fragile than ever and if the others were to find out what you felt for each other, it would be the stone that would set a giant chaos into motion. It would be the end of Haus Targaryen as you knew it.

"Go away, Aegon," you murmured and sat down in such a way that your knees were pressed against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs as if you wanted to give yourself a hug to comfort yourself.

“No, please ... darling, don’t," whimpered the older prince and climbed next to you on the soft mattress, desperately searching for your gaze and your closeness. He wanted to pull you into him, love you and never let you go again even for a small second, because you were the only thing in this world that gave him something akin to a glimmer of hope, a light in the deepest darkness of his broken soul.

"Butterfly…"

"Don't call me that!" You suddenly spat at him loudly, which immediately made him wince and made hot tears burn in his eyes once more, threatening to spill over his pale cheeks.

You have never been angry with him before. Never.

"I love you! Don't you see that? I love you so much, but I cannot live with the pain of loving a man that I cannot call my own.”

That was it. The words and the truth were out and he had heard them. His suffering broke your heart, but he deserved to hear these three words from you at least once. You loved him, you truly did, but a miracle would need to happen so that you would be able to live out your love. It was not his fault, nor was it yours, as it was the hatred that has been burning between your mothers for years- a hatred that would probably never vanish.

Aegon was speechless. For a moment he just shook his head in disbelief, which made his white curls fall over his forehead, but it did not prevent him from looking into your beautiful face and seeing in the desperate look in your dark eyes that you were serious. "But I already am yours, am I not?"

"Aegon..." Your shoulders sagged even further down and you pushed your legs even further against your upper body, the sight of it making him miserable, because he did not want to imagine what would have happened had he actually went through with his plan and he would have taken you without your consent and made you his without warning. You would probably have shouted and fought back and he could never have forgiven himself for it and you would never have forgiven him either. No, he was glad that he had not done it.

He carefully approached your trembling shape on the bed and he tenderly wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him as firmly as he could. Now you started to sob into his shoulder bitterly and he started to slowly rock you back and forth, while he buried his nose into your brown hair like he had done earlier, because your scent always seemed to calm him down, but your hair was also a sign for everyone else that you should not exist and that you, being a bastard, would be monstrous by nature, but he could not care about that in the slightest. You were beautiful on the inside and outside and one day he would prove it to you- perhaps even tonight.

"Marry me?" Back then it was a promise, now it was a serious question and he meant it with every fiber of his body. You were meant to be his wife, even if your love would be a scandal in the eyes of the gods, but he has never been a religious man anyways.

"I can't, uncle, I can't."

Aegon started to place soft and slow kisses on the top of your head. He began his exploration on your hair, then wandered down to your forehead, brushing his lips over your eyebrows, over your cheeks, which were wet from the tears that you shed for him until he reached your own lips, which looked so soft and inviting that he could hardly hold back.

"Marry me." He whispered against your lips and he looked for your gaze to see what was going through your head. Your eyes had always been the mirror to your soul.

His voice, his pleading tone, his warm breath that stroked your face, and the sudden closeness to him was just too much for you.

You do not dare to say it, but a simple, barely noticeable nod on your part was enough and the prince kissed you as if his life depends on it, his hands wandering over every centimeter of your body while he gently pushed you to lay on your back and he hovered over you, not separating his mouth from you for even a split second.

The rest of the night you both drowned in a sea of desire and pleasure, years of wanting and yearning coming to its climax. At some point, his hands had sneaked under the fabric of your nightgown, undressed you, while you had returned the favor at the same time, whereupon he had not lost any time to show you what it would mean to be his wife and you enjoyed every single second of it.

Neither Aegon nor you really listened to the argument that followed the next morning after your maid had told Rhaenyra who she had found laying next to you in your bed and what had to have happened at night based on the red stain on your sheets. Insults got thrown around, voices became louder, but you merely snuggled closer to your lover, who protectively wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned his head to yours while a feeling of happiness flooded him.

You were his now and neither his mother nor yours could ever take you away from him ever again. It was too late for that now.

Love was often said to be the death of duty and Aegon Targaryen would not give a single shit about duty for the rest of his life if it meant he got to forever hold you in his arms like this and love you like you deserved.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #tom glynn carney

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kiame-sama · 2 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 36

(Ortho made the shell casing for his limbs to match the Knight of Roses outfit given to him. He is very proud that he got it done so quickly and he loves that it stands out for him. Unlike Idia, he doesn't have to have an intense emotion to change his hair color, but the magenta does have little hearts burning in his hair as well.)

Warnings; yandere jealousy, yandere characters, platonic and romantic yanderes, fem pronouned and bodied reader, what is to come next for our intrepid Human, plans for research, plans for culinary classes, harpy, pegasus, unicorn, merman, dragon, drider, shinigami, alicorn, nemean lion, hellcat, selkie,

Chapter Links

~~~~~~~~

The inky blue sky swirled pleasantly above the dour prince, his attention on this cosmic dance of beauty and wonder. Even as he observed the rolling nebula and swirling stars, his mind was elsewhere. What he wouldn't give to hold the one he loved and embrace her beneath these stars of untold beauty. To peel away that bothersome clothing and worship what lay beneath.

The prince was not the only one- or even the only prince- interested in such a treasure. Countless eyes trailed after such a soft and lovely creature that could be found nowhere else in the land. Someone who could see the darkness in others and purify that shadowed and tainted blot of emotion.

Were dreams not meant to be pleasant? If they were supposed to be pleasant, where then was his treasure? The most soothing and comforting presence remained out of reach, even in his swirling thoughts and desperate dreaming.

He could not stop himself from searching, even as the cosmos continued the ever enchanting dance. Once his eyes began to look in earnest, however, he noticed how painfully alone he was. She wasn't here.

Where was she?

~•§•~

Malleus' eyes snapped open, the darkness of the evening still shrouding this temporary room in the gentle embrace of shadows. An embrace he was familiar with.

The Dragon prince slowly rose from the bed, glancing to the web on the far side of the room where the Drider slept peacefully. They were still in the Queendom of Roses and Malleus was not pleased to have to share with anyone other than his adored treasure (Y/n) and her kit. Not even the Drider proved to be equal or comparable company to the great beast.

Instead of lamenting in morose displeasure, Malleus chose to seek out his treasure. She was only in the room next to this one, so he was sure to find comfort in the continued affirmation of her sleeping form. It was true, he would have to be careful to not disturb the three occupants of the room, but it would calm him more than anything to see that resting expression.

The Dragon slowly slid out of the room, using magic to quiet the doors as he slid into the room of his most prized treasure. Laying in the bed with both adopted young was Malleus' Human. She seemed lost in deep sleep, one hand laying over the Hellcat Grim and the other arm loosely wrapped around the smaller form of the Shinigami Ortho. Both young beasts were clearly peaceful and lay close to the soft Human so many adored.

Ortho's head was resting on (Y/n)'s shoulder, his oxygen mask still covering his face as it fogged with his breath. Grim was laying halfway on top of her stomach, his little paws tucked beneath his chin as his whiskers twitched happily from a gentle dream. Both were given a gift Malleus craved almost violently but the Dragon couldn't bring himself to be angry over the affectionate display.

If anything, he only saw how wonderful a mother the soft Human would make for his Hatchlings. Such a warm heart that cared for others in a way no one else seemed to. Everything he could find to adore about her was filed away in his mind as reasons she was his favorite treasure.

There was a certain fondness in the Dragon for her Kit as well, having first seen him as an unfortunate add-on he needed to protect for the sake of (Y/n). Now, he couldn't help but imagine the young kit acting as an elder sibling to the future Hatchlings, teaching them to stalk and climb. A kind of affection warmed the beast's chest as he realized the Human and her kit were already family in his eyes. He just needed the kit to see him as a father and then things would be perfect.

While the night carried on, Malleus found himself unable to return to sleep, instead he summoned a chair to sit at the bedside until dawn. He would disappear before that soft Human awoke to find the beast in her room, not wanting to cause undue stress. Until then, the beast would be a watchful guardian that protected his dearest from all harm.

~•§•~

The slight disturbance of sunlight against your eyelids roused you from sleep, slowly coming to in the comfortable bed you shared. Ortho was still fast asleep, but Grim was slowly rousing as you began to move. You slid out of the bed, gently moving Grim and Ortho to cuddle so they could keep sleeping while you took some time for yourself.

Your limbs popped and cracked from use as you stretched, getting dressed and vaguely wondering what the next week would bring. You were to be headed back to Night Raven today and wondered how those still at the school were faring in your absence. Though you felt no obligation to the many who were obsessed with you, you also didn't want to return to the school to find it in shambles.

As you emerged from the room, you noticed several others were also already awake. Divus and Crowley stood talking to one another in hushed voices, the Selkie seeming less than pleased with whatever the Crow was telling him. Crowley did not seem happy either, but it was clear he was saying something to soothe the Selkie before he noticed you.

"Good morning, my little bird. Did you sleep well?"

You shrugged, still somewhat disoriented from sleep as you approached the pair. Divus was thrilled to see you awake and gave you a gentle smile as you walked over. It was hard to resist the temptation to cuddle into the Selkie's fur and he clearly did not mind as he let you lean into his side. The one who seemed the most upset about the affectionate and domestic gesture was one clearly jealous Harpy who ruffled his feathers.

Somewhere in your sleepy brain, you laughed at the way the teachers all seemed to fight over your affection and attention. All of them wanting to be the one you went to for comfort, angry when they were not chosen.

Thus far, you actually had a preference for Divus given the fact the Selkie seemed most attuned to your emotions. Crowley was still last as your favorite given his prior disregard for your wishes and the fact that he collared you like a dog. Though he was improving and seemed to actually be able to understand your hesitance, he was still not your favorite.

Hell, Papa Hades was higher ranked than Crowley in your eyes despite the limited interaction you had with him. He was higher ranked than a lot of the others you were dealing with.

"Puppy," Divus started, "we need to discuss what your next week will look like and what will happen."

"Is it more traveling?"

"No. But you will have more than a few visitors this week. Perhaps even the whole month."

You frowned at this, looking up at the patient seal-man who cooed gently upon seeing your pouting expression. He had been the most gentle of the staff towards you, closely followed by Trein, so you didn't feel belittled by the sweet behavior.

"Why?"

"Your ability to absorb blot is nothing short of astounding, Puppy. Blot kills. Those who become Feral rarely ever recover, yet here you have successfully gotten three to recover, and one of them you actually absorbed the blot from directly. The fact you survived, didn't Overblot, and have burned away the blot in your own body has drawn attention. Lord Hades will be returning to Night Raven to study this behavior and to do that we need your cooperation and two of the three Overblotters."

It made sense to you, of course. You had been told about the awful effects of blot and even saw how Alistair and Riddle were impacted by their own blot. A kind of happiness wormed inside of you at the idea of seeing Papa Hades again, but you worried somewhat about which Overblotters Divus was talking about.

"I refuse to allow that slimy fish Erikír anywhere near you, so he will not be permitted to return to Sage Island until his trial. That means Riddle and Alistair will be the primary test subjects, as they both are still impacted by their Overblot. Queen Helena has requested that Alistair be allowed to attend Night Raven College for now as you directly aided in his recovery and stopped him from falling to blot. Given Riddle is Housewarden of Heartslabyul, we have decided that Heartslabyul should be in charge of guarding you."

It made sense, especially if Riddle was supposed to be around you more due to the research Papa Hades wanted done. The close proximity of the Shinigami also had you wondering if he could work on fixing Grim's wings. You also wondered if Idia would be staying over at Ramshackle, given it was his ancestor who would be conducting these tests.

Beyond just that, you also worried about how the ever possessive Dragon would handle this news. He had stipulated that Riddle would have to forfeit his turn as guard to Diasomnia, but that wouldn't help you or them seeing as Riddle was needed for the research.

"I'll have to tell Tsuno myself. He won't be happy, especially since he banned Riddle from being a guard until he is forgiven for what he did during his Overblot," your hand rest against your scar left by the axe, "but Riddle and Alistair are needed if Papa Hades is going to do his research."

"Lord Hades is not the only Shroud who will be arriving. I hear Idia's parents are keen to aid Lord Hades in his research as well, so Idia will likely do the same."

You nodded to this, having figured as much yourself when first hearing about the plan for the next week. Where you were somewhat miffed at the idea of being told- yet again- that things were already planned out for you, you still figured that this new blot oriented development was significant. Hopefully Malleus wouldn't take it too hard.

~•§•~

"... Me?"

"Lord Hades has requested both you and prince Alistair be present for these tests. As you both are recovering from Overblotting, it would make sense the two of you are the ideal subjects to test blot accumulation and absorption."

Riddle thought about these words, knowing that he was actually getting the chance to guard this blessed Human because of his Overblot. Part of him wondered what would have happened had he not Overblotted. He would still have his full horn, but be trapped under his mother's control. He gained more from his Overblot than he lost.

"I am inclined to agree regardless. Lord Hades has taken over payment for my schooling and continued education after... After my Mother's refusal. It would be foolish to bite the hand that keeps me comfortable and fed."

Malleus was pouting, as was Floyd, and Rook. Malleus didn't want the Unicorn or Alicorn near his most valued and precious treasure. Floyd had been convinced that Octavinelle would be next to be chosen, given their assistance at the Spelldrive Tournament against Erikír. Rook knew Vil would have increasingly intense and drastic meltdowns over not being selected yet again.

"You have already agreed to forfeit your turns until you are deemed no longer a threat."

You sighed at this and frowned at Malleus who was clearly still pouting over the decision. Though he had agreed when you told him, it was clear he was not going to let this go without yet another scolding from you.

"Malleus, stop."

"He isn't safe around you. Neither of them are!"

"Malleus!"

The Dragon went quiet when he realized he was testing your temper, now refusing to look at you to maintain his own annoyance. You knew he would act this way, you just had to make sure that he wasn't going to actually fight the decision. This meant you had to give something of value to the Dragon to soothe his almost childish behavior.

"Papa Hades needs Riddle and Alistair for his research. I want to know why blot doesn't affect me as much- if not more- than he wants to know. I know you have your reservations and they are formed from educated experiences. However, it is still ideal that Heartslabyul guards me this next week, though I know that idea displeases you. If it makes you feel better, you can stay in Ramshackle for the week, just as the Shrouds and the Heartslabyul students can. Yes, that also means we can share a nest so you don't worry in the night. Is that amenable?"

"... Yes."

"Good. I don't want to hear you fight against this decision again. There is far too much that still needs to be looked into and understood. It will be easier to do all of the above if you aren't fighting every step of the way, okay?"

The Dragon didn't respond, but he also seemed less angered than he had been prior, instead he just nodded and went along with the idea. At least with Malleus calm, you could focus on more than tiptoeing around the sensitive feelings of the Dragon.

Crowley was exceptionally pleased at this agreement, looking over to Queen Helena and Alistair who were also present for the conversation. Queen Helena was thrilled Alistair would be able to be seen by the leading minds of Twisted Wonderland, hopefully able to aid her son in his healing journey. Alistair just seemed thrilled that he was going to get to spend more time with you.

"Headmage-"

"You can call me Crowley, little bird."

"... Headmage, I was thinking about that cooking class suggestion you made a while back. Maybe I could actually get that started- with a small test group, of course- but perhaps next week or even the week after? Especially if this research will take more than a week, a quick start up of the class may be beneficial."

"Perhaps... We will need to iron out logistics, though I am aware Azul has voiced his interest in hosting the culinary class in the Mostro Lounge. I will see what can be done come next week."

"I appreciate it."

"For now- because I am so kind as to host a student from Royal Sword Academy- we should all return to Night Raven College soon and get young Mr. Heartsqueen set up in a room in Ramshackle. Though this week did not go as expected, it was still yet another learning experience that we can take lessons from going forward. Hopefully this has been an educational experience for you all!"

#kiame-sama #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #humans are extinct twst au #x reader #reader insert #hae au #monster au #yandere twst #yandere monsters

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lemonlover1110 · 13 days ago

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𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 3] Innocence

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Pairing: Knight!Toji Fushiguro x Princess!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Virginity Loss, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play

Story Summary: This is what'll get Toji killed... But how can he reject her when she looks up at him with such beautiful eyes? A man that's been to war won't be killed by the edge of a sword but rather the lips of a woman.

He shouldn’t lay a finger on her, but he’ll do anything that she asks him to. She’s his princess, he has to follow her every word.

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You didn’t plan things out this far. You’re very visibly zoned out at the dinner table, trying to figure out your next move. Embarrassment consumes you as you think about your reaction to his words. You couldn’t have done anything else…? You had to run away and shut the door of your room in his face.

“Are you okay, love?” You’re knocked out of the trance by your father, who’s been trying to speak with you but gone ignored. Usually, he’d lecture you about your lack of manners, but this behavior isn’t normal from you.

“I’m okay.” You give him a sheepish smile, taking a small bite of your food. Nothing is appetizing right now, but it’d be weird if you didn’t attempt to eat anything.

“How was your piano lesson?” He asks, and you nod. Your brain is too preoccupied to form a proper sentence, all you can do is nod. Luckily, he won’t push the matter, he simply moves on. There’s no point in pressing the matter when he knows you won’t speak.

You’re playing around with the food, unable to stomach anything. What will you tell him? Are you sure you want to do this? Sure, last night you were determined to do it but you’re thinking more clearly now.

You’re determined to turn Toji down, but then his name comes up.

“You’ll meet your prince soon, aren’t you excited?” Your father asks, and then the nerves consume you all over again. Insecurity settles in once again, and you rise from your seat.

“May I be dismissed?” You completely dismiss the question, and his brows come together. He can only assume it’s nerves, which he isn’t completely wrong about. Simply, he imagines the situation in a completely different manner.

“You may.” He answers, and you nearly dart out of the dining room. You’re walking fast enough to avoid being followed by your knight, alas, it’s to no advantage. Toji is quickly called over and ordered to follow after you.

“Princess!” You hear, and you feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. He’s running to catch up to you. You don’t stop for him even though it would be nice to him, but then again, when have you ever been nice to Toji?

It isn’t until you’re at your bedroom where he’s finally fully catched up. Toji doesn’t like to run after you, but he has no other option when you’re running away.

“Why didn’t you eat the strawberry shortcake?” Toji asks, watching as you catch your breath. That’s where you differ, he’s not even breaking a sweat. He wasn’t even running at his full capacity.

“I’m not hungry.” You trip over your words, very clearly nervous. This isn’t the reaction Toji expected when he said what he said, but perhaps he should’ve expected it. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing.

“Look, your highness. I take back what I said, it was out of place.” He says, and you feel your face get unreasonably warm. You don’t even know what you want. Last night you wanted to have sex with him, he rejected you and that was that– Sure, you were acting like a complete and total brat about it, but you didn’t expect him to change his mind. Toji is too headstrong to change his mind.

You want to tell him it’s fine and to move on, but then you remember what awaits you. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to run their mouth about their queen… how her king goes to anyone else to satiate his hunger. How they do now, except the situation is worse because you can’t escape.

“Toji.” You swallow the lump in your throat as you look at him. Butterflies fill your stomach as you study every feature of his face. It’s a good thing he’s handsome.

“Yes, princess?” He raises his eyebrows, and you pause for a moment. You bite down your lip, looking him up and down. So sex is when the man–

“When can we do it?” You end up asking, knowing that if you overthink, you’ll never get out of your comfort zone.

“It?” He plays dumb, not wanting to outright say it.

“When can we have…” You lower your voice, “sex?”

“We can…” It’s warm out, but Toji shouldn’t start to burn up. It’s a good thing that he can suppress any trace of emotion. You wouldn’t be able to tell that a single thought runs through his head.

Toji knows the castle better than anyone. He knows when it’s guarded the most and when it isn’t as crowded. He knows who’s on shift, and who’s off. Yet, none of that information runs through his mind when he’s thinking of what to answer.

It’s surprising, but you get through your day normally. You’re able to carry out your usual routine with Toji as if nothing else were happening. The bickering doesn’t stop, and you carry on as usual.

You’re not as affected… But Toji– Toji isn’t one to freak out nor feel nervous about anything. This shouldn’t be nerve-wracking, but Toji feels odd. Maybe because he knows that one wrong move will end it all.

Well it’s not entirely about the risk. The risk absolutely plays a big part in how he feels, but also you come to his mind. He’s taking your virginity. He’s taking your innocence. You’ll completely view your romantic life differently after it, at least he thinks you will.

Toji watches the guard that’s outside your door at this time. A complete fool that can’t do the job as well as Toji; the idiot is falling asleep for fuck’s sake. But maybe it’s a good thing tonight. Toji can suppress his footsteps and walk by unnoticed, but he’s not taking the risk. The fear of getting caught gets the best of him.

He’s debating whether he wants to enter your room or not, but it’s too late to back down now. He knows that you’re waiting for him, and he doesn’t want to let you down. He just has to be wise about his timing.

As Toji stares at the door, he thinks that maybe it was easier to sneak in through your window. Sure, your room is on the third floor but he can climb in through your balcony. He’s climbed harder surfaces; however, none are as guarded as the castle.

Toji would wait for the guard to use the restroom, but that won’t happen for a while. Toji bites his tongue as he looks around. His best bet is making some sort of noise to lure the man away. There’s a shine that catches his eye, and Toji’s gaze lands on his signet ring.

A sigh leaves his lips before he takes it off. It’s just some jewelry that he’ll claim is lost, and get a replacement later on. He throws it, the loud noise drawing the guard’s attention. Such a small ring draws so much attention. During the day you wouldn’t hear it, but it’s the loudest possible noise in the castle at night.

Toji can blend in with the shadows, pressing against the wall as the guard walks over to the source of the noise. When the man is far enough, Toji seizes the opportunity to enter your room. He’s never been this quiet in his life, but he executed the plan flawlessly.

He lets out a deep breath when his back is pressed against your door, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He’s staring up at the ceiling, thanking a higher being for being on his side this time. Toji has gotten stabbed near his heart before, but somehow, someway, this is worse than the moment where he was fighting for his life.

Maybe because back then he had no reason to live. But right now, he has– What is he even thinking? He’s safe. He made it to your room. He’s in your room.

Fuck, he’s in your room.

“Toji?” You softly call out to him, and his eyes finally land on you. His jaw clenches as he slowly looks down on you. You’re wearing a white lace nightgown that makes you look so… Soft. You’re looking at him so innocently, slowly stepping towards him.

“Princess.” He responds, feeling the air in the room suddenly get thicker. The most stressful part isn’t even over. Your hands go to his chest, the thin cloth of his tank top being the only thing that stands in the middle. Whenever Toji is around you, he’s wearing his heavy uniform, but tonight he’s more relaxed.

“So how do we… Start?” You sound so innocent that he wants to step out of the room and act as if nothing ever happened. Toji’s large hand goes to the back of your head, making eye contact with you.

Your pupils dilate as you’re forced to look directly at him. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest, knowing what’s to come… Though you aren’t too sure what happens next.

“Princess, have you had your first kiss?” His eyes slowly move down to your lips. You shake your head, and Toji bites down his lip. You haven’t even had your first kiss, he shouldn’t do this.

“Will you be my first kiss, Toji?” Your voice is so sweet, how could he ever reject you? It’s the first time you’re this nice to him, dare he say. His hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as hesitance takes over him.

He came ready to do worse, a kiss shouldn’t work him up. He can only mutter, “I’m sorry I’m not someone better,” before leaning down, meeting your soft lips. It’s so sweet, contradictory to what he’s here for tonight.

He can’t believe he’s actually doing this. Intimacy, especially sex has become a second nature to him, something he doesn’t think twice about— So why does he feel so weird about a kiss? Maybe it’s because your lips are so sweet and soft… Or maybe it’s because you’re so helplessly copying him, unsure of what to do.

“Are you sure this is what you want, princess?” Toji can’t help but ask as he pulls away from your lips. This is it… Once he starts he won’t be able to stop himself.

“Have sex with me, Toji.” You grab his hand, trying to bring him to your bed. You don’t seem to understand that you’ve lost all control the moment you spoke.

“Oh!” You yelp when he picks you off your feet, carrying you to your bed. His lips meet yours again, except that it isn’t as sweet as the first time. His tongue enters your mouth, pressing against your own and you attempt to mimic him.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He pulls away to warn you, gently putting you down on the bed. You nod in response, and Toji takes a deep breath, looking down at you. He almost feels like he’s the one that’s about to lose his virginity with how nervous he’s feeling.

Having sex with a princess? Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine this. He’s full of himself, he knows he can get just about any woman he wants, but not his princess.

“We need a towel.” Toji takes a step back, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What for?” You ask, and he lets out a chuckle. Some blood, and other stuff. Before he can even answer, you proceed to tell him, “Just get the sheets dirty.”

“And get Hanako to interrogate you?” Toji responds, and you chuckle. The shyness and nerves going away, your usual cockiness settling in for the moment.

“Who do you think I am, Toji? You really think she’s in a place to ask me too many questions?” You reply, and he ends up rolling his eyes. There you are.

“Don’t complain if I make a mess then.” He says, hands going to your knees and spreading your legs. That’s the moment your cockiness fades away again. Toji’s fingertips glide down the soft fabric of your nightgown before he lifts it up.

His breath gets caught up in his chest again when he finally gets to see your cute little panties. He’s seen you less than dressed before, but not in this type of situation. He can’t help but mindlessly stare at you.

“Do you need help?” You respond, lifting up your nightgown before he can even respond. His eyes go wide, realizing that you’re naked in front of him. He ogles your breasts before he leans down. He kisses your lips again, and your hands go to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

His hot fingertips move down your torso, making their way to your panties. He begins to play with the waistband of your panties, making you squeeze your legs together. Toji ends up pulling away, wet lips kissing down your neck until they reach your breasts.

“What are you–” You begin as his tongue circles around your nipple, the unusual sensation bringing you pleasure. He wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks, and you bite down your lip. He told you that you have to be quiet, so you won’t make a single noise.

He looks up at you, watching your brows come together in the middle as you try your best to be quiet. Perhaps he should teach you that a man does enjoy hearing those little mewls of pleasure, but he can’t risk it tonight.

Toji unlatches, kissing your body. Each kiss gets lower. Riskier. You feel the butterflies slowly consume you, squeezing your legs harder with each kiss. He finally stops when your panties get in the way.

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Toji raises his head, fingers circling over your clothed pussy. He knows the answer, but he just wants to hear it come from your lips.

“No.” You answer, and he fights back a smirk. The nervousness fades away when he forgets about titles and formalities. Right now he’s just a man, and you’re just a woman.

“I’ll make you feel so good.” He responds as he takes off your panties. Toji spreads your legs apart, eyes glistening at the sight of your bare cunt. You’re already dripping wet, and he hasn’t even done anything.

“What are you going to do?” You ask, and before you can utter another word, he dips his head down. His lips kiss your pussy before his tongue runs through the folds of your pussy before it focuses on your clit. You know that this isn’t what he’s supposed to do, but you’re not stopping him. Not while he makes you feel good.

He flicks his tongue just right, making you shut your eyes as a breathless moan escapes your lips. Now you understand why he told you to be quiet. You squeeze his head as pleasure flows through your body.

“Go back.” You whine, when his tongue moves down, teasing the entrance of your cunt. He does the opposite, asserting his control as he lifts his head. He doesn’t leave you unattended though, his thumb playing with your clit.

“Does that feel good? Do you like it?” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice, satisfied that he’s taken away your source of pleasure.

“Toji, please go back. Use your mouth.” It’s rare for you to use a word like that, and he’s finally gotten to hear it. It’d be rude of him to not dip his head down between your legs again, allowing himself to indulge again.

You taste so sweet on his tongue, a taste that will be hard for him to forget. It’s a good thing he gets to enjoy it all night long– And he doubts this will be the only time you’ll meet under these premises.

You feel as he runs two fingers through your folds, getting them wet with your own slick before they press your entrance. Your hand slaps your mouth shut when he pushes one of his thick fingers inside of you. It feels weird… It’s odd, but you don’t hate the feeling.

He adds a second finger, slowly moving them in and out of your pussy. The uncomfortable feeling dims, pleasure settling in. It’s stronger than before, the feeling of his mouth and fingers heightening the feeling.

“Toji.” You whisper, your body acting on its own. Your legs squeeze around him, back arching as an unfamiliar feeling builds up. It gets the best of you, and you’re moaning. It should be a matter of concern, where Toji should stop and shush you, but the way you moan his name is music to his ears. He can’t stop himself, not now.

The pressure snaps inside of you, and your body quivers. That’s when Toji takes his fingers out of you, rising from between your legs. His thumb swipes over his lips, cleaning your juices from them before he pecks your lips.

“I’ve never seen you this sweaty, princess.” He points out while you pant to catch your breath. You avoid looking at his eyes, a sudden shame washing over you. He knows that feeling better than you do, so he won’t say anything about it. “Is this where you want to stop?”

“No.” You finally look at him, your body burning up. “I want the real thing.”

“Eating you out wasn’t the real thing, huh?” Toji chuckles as he lifts his tank top. The shame quickly goes out the door when your eyes fall on his well-sculpted body. He has the same physique of a Greek god, except his body is covered in countless scars.

Toji is not of your class, he’s had to fight for his survival… Would it be imprudent to say that you like them?

“You haven’t… You know…” You can’t say the words outright, and it humors him. And to think that tomorrow you’ll be your cocky little self.

“What, princess? I haven’t come? Is that what you meant to say?” He whispers in your ear, and you want to bury your face in the bed out of embarrassment. It’s hard to hide now.

“Toji…” Your hands go to his bare chest, falling on top of his fast beating heart. You look into his eyes, pure smugness gleaming in them. “I’ll make your life miserable tomorrow if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Isn’t that what you do every day?” He teases while his hands go to the waistband of his pants. You sit up, biting down your lip as he lowers his pants so painfully slowly. You try to suppress any emotion when you finally see it.

“Will that–” You swallow a lump in your throat as Toji spreads your legs wide open again. Toji knows the question, and he can’t give you a verbal answer, he can just show you how it’ll fit just perfectly.

He spits on his hand before giving his cock a quick stroke. You feel your heart about to beat out of your chest– As if his mouth wasn’t down there a couple of minutes ago.

“It usually hurts your first time.” He warns you as he runs the tip of his dick through your cunt. You nod, bracing yourself for anything. Just by the look of it you know it won’t be easy. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.” You nod, hands going to his biceps as you wait for him. Your nails dig into his skin as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. You hold your breath, certainly more uncomfortable than before. His fingers were nothing compared to this.

Toji’s eyes remain on your face, trying to decipher what you’re feeling. He sees your eyes get watery, watching as a tear slips from your face. He’ll stop in a heartbeat if he sees that it’s too much for you to handle. He doesn’t bottom out, instead he stops and asks, “Are you okay, princess? Do you need me to st–”

“You can move.” You assure him, his hands going to your hips before he gives slow, gentle thrusts. He’s too focused on you to notice how good you’re feeling. He’d curse you for how good you feel around him, so maybe it’s a good thing that he’s too focused on you.

“Does it hurt?” He’s asking. Never in his life has he been this caring, especially during sex, but the circumstances are vastly different this time. You bite down your lip and shake your head. It’s uncomfortable, but the more he moves the better it feels.

“It’s good.” You reassure him, hands going up to wipe the tears that escaped. His hand goes up to cup your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Hmm? It feels good? You like it?” He asks, trying to regulate his movements. He’ll keep things nice and slow. You nod in response. He stares at you, admiring every feature of your face. Yeah… He’s really doing this. He’s fucking his princess.

“Toji…” You begin as you look into his eyes, and you feel the tears brim in your own. You don’t know what feeling it is that consumes you, but you can’t stop it. You’re doing something you wanted, and yet you’re about to cry. You can’t even explain it, and you hate it.

Maybe it’s because you rushed it and did it out of desperation. Maybe it’s because this is supposed to be an emotional milestone that you can’t revert– You can’t explain it. You just know it isn’t because Toji isn’t the right person. He’s the man you trust the most, how is he not the right person?

“Can you… stop?”

He pulls out, and he watches as an influx of tears begin to stream down your face. Toji freezes, unsure of what to do next. Should be… Apologize? He isn’t the type to apologize but he feels like he’s done something wrong and he has to apologize for it. It certainly takes him by surprise when you curl up and begin to apologize.

“I’m sorry– I–” You begin, and he watches in shock. He bites down his lip before he lays down beside you, throwing his arm over you.

“I can leave.” He tells you as your hand goes to his arm, and you attempt to bring him closer.

“Will you just hold me?” You ask through sniffles, and he hums in response, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You repeat again, “I’m sorry.”

“What for? You were amazing.” He responds. “Tonight is all about you, princess. It always is.”

“You didn’t even get to–” You begin but he cuts you off before you can finish the sentence.

“You know it’s not every night you get to share a bed with a princess, and I’ve had the great honor to do so.” He replies. “My beautiful amazing princess sharing a bed with a peasant? I’m truly the luckiest man alive.”

“Shut up.” He manages to make you chuckle, meaning he’s accomplished his goal. You wipe the tears before commenting, “I must look so pathetic right now.”

“You know I’ve cried after sex before too.” He reveals, and your curiosity is piqued. He doesn’t have to ask to know. It’s a little personal, and something that he would never share, but nothing gets more personal than this– Not to even mention that he’s doing everything in his power to make you feel better. “It was my first time with the best woman in the world, and I just couldn’t stop the tears.”

“I’m certainly not crying because you’re the best man in the world.” You comment, and he smirks. There you are.

“I’m just a dumb peasant, right?” He asks, and you hum in response. He chuckles before pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. You’ll be just fine in a few minutes.

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