#like yes i only know it from young royals

[wh0rephobic]

LIMERENCE.

PAIRING: anakin skywalker x apprentice!reader

SUMMARY: you and your master unknowingly get your drinks spiked on a mission.

WARNINGS: SMUT, aphrodisiacs/spiked drinks, dubcon, fingering, piv, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor age gap (reader is 20-21, anakin is 25-26), teacher x student themes, glove stays on during sex, NSFW, MDNI

COUNT: 3.7k

The air is heavy inside the brewery you ran into after this thief, whom you and your master were assigned to catch.

“You’re sure it ran in here?” Master Anakin inquires, scanning the room.

“Yes,” you insist, “I felt it.”

Though you may only be a young Jedi knight, you’ve always felt very keen about your sense of the Force. But, although hotheaded and stubborn, you don’t disagree that you still have lots to learn from your Master… including this.

“Well, keep your eyes peeled.” Anakin crosses his arms in front of him, “from what Obi-Wan had said, it sounds like we’re dealing with a changeling,”

Oh, great. Your hand balls into a tight fist as the cortisol is released into your bloodstream. These creatures never failed to royally piss you off.

“A changeling?!” You exclaim, “why are you just telling this to me now?”

Your challenging tone earns a stern look from your Master, who’s nearly just as hotheaded as you.

“Easy, young knight,” he snips, “if your connection with the force is strong enough to lead you in here, it’s strong enough to find it. Correct?”

You chew on your lip, studying Anakin’s angry expression as you choose your next words carefully.

“Correct,” you nod, stubbornly.

“Good.” He trusts, “now, let’s split up. You can take the left side of the bar and— “

A server approaches, quickly cutting him off. “Would you like a drink?” She tilts her head with a faux smile on her face and motions to a sign next to her.

“ DISTRICT POLICY: NO LOITERING! ALL CUSTOMERS MUST BUY SOMETHING FROM THE BAR. “

With an eye roll and a faint grunt, the two of you reluctantly order the cheapest drink on the menu, a craft beverage you’ve never really heard of, and find a seat while you wait, continuing to scan the surroundings for signs of your target.

But somehow, you miss your server clock out for a smoke break outside after putting in your orders, and you also miss when an unknown figure takes her place.

The figure swiftly collects your drinks from behind the bar, tagged by your table’s receipt. When throwing in some straws, the figure doses both drinks with a substance. The changeling delivers them to your table.

You may be a knight, but you’re not that young, and Anakin has been training you for at least a few years now. The council wanted to assign someone as stubborn as himself to train as a taste of his own medicine. Since then, you have been stuck to his side like a puppy, and he’s watched you grow up into the bright young woman you are over these past few years… except that this last year, he’s noticed that you’ve gained some independence, as both a good and a bad thing. While you have more confidence in your actions and decisions, he’s not going to ignore the numerous times you’ve arrived at the job late since you became of age, makeup from last night smeared under your eyes and hair barely touched before you pinned it up. No, you weren’t that young, but you did have a reputation of being a little immature at times… he advised you not to let your party life get ahead of you.

You take a generous sip from the double straws in your cocktail, eyes carefully studying every customer at the bar.

Your eyebrows knit, “how do we even know it’s still in here? Couldn’t it have left already?”

“That’s the bad thing,” Anakin admits, sipping from his glass. “I have a feeling that this thing knew what it was doing leading us in here… so, we’ll just have one drink, watch the door, then get back to looking for this guy.”

You nod, trusting your Master’s intuition.

It was a bad idea.

It doesn’t take long for the substance to take effect, Anakin’s palms beginning to sweat under the long sleeves of his Jedi robes. It’s a slow onset though, slow enough that he can barely notice his own temperature change or heart rate rise gradually, and he just blames it on the temperature of the crowded bar. He takes another gulp from his drink.

As his eyes begin to tire from the repetitive display of the busy bar room, his mind begins to wander. It’s been years since he’s wasted his time going out to sleazy bars like this. He was younger, maybe a year or two younger than his own apprentice, you, when he would go out. He reminisces on the young women he’d meet, showing off their bodies in promiscuous outfits, looking for the attention that young Anakin was all-too willing to give, licking the liquor off of their tongues…

He can’t help but wonder what it’s like when you go out with your friends, how much skin you’ve shown off at a place like this. he wonders how many strangers you’ve gone home with, how many of them have made you cum? He bets he could make you feel better than any of them ever have.

With a huff of hot air, Anakin comes back to reality. Everything happens right under his nose, and the naïve Jedi can’t help but wonder how long he’s been feeling like this, and he hasn’t even realized?

But he’s too caught up in his own world to notice how the drug was affecting you. Not only are you also sweating, but you’re shaking, and there’s an uncontrollable heat between your legs that’s clouding your head. You can barely hear Anakin speaking to you, having zoned out long ago with your thighs clenched together to try and relieve some of the pressure.

Soon enough, he notices your lack of interest in the scene and asks, “are you feeling alright?”

You can only offer a huff in response, balling your fists to try and control your tremors. But when a wave of sinful thoughts floods your brain, your eyes can’t help but roll shut at your visions and you feel your face flush a deep red.

The lust seizes you like a fever, with one undeniable thought above it all: you want him. All of him. You want to feel his thick fingers filling you up to the point where you can’t breathe, you want to feel his body on top of yours when he slips in and out of your soaked pussy, whispering ungodly words into your ear. You need him, and you’re mortified.

You’re humiliated, thinking such shameful thoughts of your Master, not only while on duty, but when he’s right in front of you… in the back of your mind, you know that you shouldn’t, that this is wrong and that you should resist your urges. You turn away from him.

He calls your name, trying to get your attention again before he reaches for you. The second you feel his scalding touch on your skin, you involuntarily arch your back away from him with a gasp.

“Master!” You nearly moan out; mind and body completely overran by the substance you unknowingly drank.

Anakin freezes; your reflex is enough to set off a chemical reaction inside of him that creeps down his spine. Luckily, he didn’t drink as fast as you, and he still has his head on straight.

“You’re not well.” He decides.

He harshly grips your bicep. You try to flinch away a second time, biting your lips to hold back another moan as he pulls you to your feet. The mission you two were initially sent on is now completely forgotten, but the changeling snuck out the front door a while ago when both of you were too distracted to notice.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

You finally looked up at him, pouting helplessly as your body aches from the desperation radiating from your core. There’s a scarlet hue painted onto your glistening cheeks, and your pupils are huge, Anakin notes. He hates to admit that the defenseless expression on your face made his cock twitch to life in his pants, neglecting it with a barely audible grunt as he gnaws on his lip, turning away from you.

Outside the bar, your master calls for an air taxi to take you home. He joins you in the backseat, and what should’ve been a relief quickly becomes true torture. Having Anakin so close to you in the tight space of the taxi pod proves to be worse than being inside the bar.

You turned your face to the window. It’s becoming increasingly harder to resist your urges when you can practically smell his wooden-leathery musk dripping in his sweat from where you’re sitting. You bite into your knuckles, shifting your knees together subtly to create some sort of friction between your soaked thighs.

Anakin, both concerned about your sudden distress and trying to satisfy his own disgusting urges, reaches to place a comforting palm on your knee, squeezing it lightly to remind you that he’s there. But his touch only sends lightning to your core, catching air in your throat and making it hard to breathe. You turn to look at him with the same helpless expression that you gave him when you were leaving the bar, eyes glossed over with need.

Both of you are so oblivious to what has been done.

You chew your lip, conflicted about your next move.

Your body, seemingly on autopilot, places your soft hand on top of his glove. Neither of you break eye contact when you guide his hand up your thigh a few experimental inches, studying his reaction. From beneath the leather, Anakin’s metal hand squeezes your thigh to indicate his reciprocated need. It makes your desperate hole clench around nothing, it aches being so empty. You sigh, turning back to the window with a burning red face and stupidly loud heartbeat, but holding his hand where it sits on your leg for the remainder of the short ride. He gingerly rubs his thumb back and forth over the soft material of your pants, slowly getting you more worked up.

By the time you get to your apartment, you’re a disaster. Sweating, eyes blown wide, wetness drenching your underwear as you continue to shake like a prey being hunted in front of your Master, who was just as far gone as you.

You would have jumped on him in the elevator, if it weren’t for the Council. The only thing holding you back from him at this point was your fear of how the Jedi Council would react if behavior like this got out. It was the same thing holding him back, as well… but that didn’t stop him from walking into your apartment, and following you into your bedroom… this is a dangerous game you’re playing.

You smile coyly at him. “You shouldn’t be here,”

You know what you’re doing, and you want it just as much. You just need him to be the one to say it.

“I know,” he swallows, “but you want me to be, right?”

Your lips part, speechless at his question. Yes, you do. But you shouldn’t, you try to tell yourself, the council wouldn’t like this. But as he continues to move closer to you, you can’t help but drift towards him, and when he catches your eye glance solemnly at his lips, all of the ties holding him back snap. With the back of two of his flesh fingers, Anakin strokes the soft skin of your arm.

“Please, let me have you,” he begs, “just for tonight.”

You sigh, hot breath clouding the little space there is between you.

“Master, I- “

“Anakin,” he corrects.

“Anakin,” you repeat desperately, leaning into his touch.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he promises, tasting iron on his tongue. “Please.”

It was so different, seeing him like this. He’s always so strict with you, so stern and certain. But here he is, panting and begging beneath you like he’s ready to get on his knees, and you’re not even touching him. It made your heart beat impossibly faster, pounding so heavily that you’d think it wants to literally jump out of your chest. You think that if you listen close enough, you might be able to hear Anakin’s heart beating just as fast, as well. The agonizing sound fills your ears as you reach for his sleeve, clammy hands gripping it tight, the rhythm of your twin hearts beating gravitating you towards each other.

You’re speechless, trying your hardest to think through this situation rationally but you just can’t.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” You mumble as Anakin tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, allowing his calloused fingers to trace your jaw before cradling it.

He whispers, “I won’t let that happen.”

His lips crashed onto yours before you knew it, both of you immediately melting into it. Shaky hands pushed the robe off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor of your bedroom. His mouth is hot as he eagerly licks into your mouth, entangling his wet tongue with your own. He pushes you back towards your bed gently, discarding his belt and leather tunic along with his robe. You let yourself sneak your fingers under the hem of his shirt, grazing them over the smooth skin.

You let yourself fall back onto the mattress when you feel the bed hit the back of your knees. Anakin takes his shirt off over his head, and you follow his actions. You frantically kick off your pants, fingers reaching behind your back to unclip your bra, when Anakin, now left only in his boxers, climbs on top of you. He places a knee between your legs before leaning in to resume your deep kisses. He reaches behind you, swatting your hands away and taking it upon himself to unhook your bra. You can feel how hard he is on your leg as his mouth gradually moves down your jaw and lands on your tender neck, decorating it red with gentle hickeys. Subconsciously, he hopes that they’re light enough to fade by tomorrow… but tonight, he can’t help himself.

You can’t help but drop your head back when he drags a big hand up your thigh, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his teasing fingers tracing along the get spot of your clothed pussy makes you whine.

“Please don’t tease me— ah-!” You gasp when he finally pushes your panties aside and sinks two thick digits into your warm cunt.

Simultaneously, his expert mouth lands on one of the sensitive buds on your chest, flicking his tongue back and forth over it before suckling carefully. Your back arches, and Anakin takes this opportunity to sneak his gloved prosthesis behind your back to hold you closer to him as a most beautiful mewl escapes your swollen lips. He smiles against your tits when he feels you tighten around his hand, leaking slick wetness all over his hands and down your thighs.

Your legs twitch when you feel him curl his strong fingers inside of you, and you instinctively reach for the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his golden curls and pulling him impossibly closer to you. He groans against your nipples, repeating the motions of his fingers rapidly, rubbing his fingertips against the spongy spot inside of you.

“You’re so wet,” he hums approvingly, “is this all for me?”

You can only let out a pleasured cry in response, too far gone to offer anything more.

Anakin picks his head up from your swollen tits and studies your face. You’re swimming in the clouds of bliss that is being in Anakin’s arms, eyes rolled back and jaw hung so low you’re about to start drooling. You’ve gone stupid on his fingers alone.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, “stay with me,”

His words ground you, and he flashes you a proud grin when your eyes blink back into focus, holding eye contact with him as he sneaks his thumb up to your clit. Your body twitches at the stimulation when he starts slowly rubbing it side to side, eyes threatening to roll back again. You feel a throb deep inside your needy cunt before a warm pressure suddenly bubbles up, faster than you can take it.

“Anakin-!” You gasp, “y-you’re gonna make me cum!”

But your words only discourage him, making the pace of his skilled hand falter when he shakes his head in disapproval, golden curls clumping together as they fall in front of his forehead.

“I want you to cum on my dick.”

Your hole squeezes his fingers at the thought of being filled up by him any more than you already are.

You gasp, blurting out “please fuck me,”

Your begs fuel Anakin, the pride of your desperation rushing straight to his cock, you watch a dark grin flash across his face. He’s going to break you.

He moves down your body, planting kisses along your stomach as he inches closer to your now completely ruined panties. He hooks his fingers into the side before pulling them down, placing soft kisses onto your tender pussy. His own underwear comes off next, and you open your legs invitingly, allowing him to position himself between them. He rubs the plush skin of your hip soothingly, looking up to give you a checking nod.

You reciprocate with another sure nod before you reach up to pull him down on top of you, foreheads touching.

“Please,” you whisper.

Anakin obeys your soft begs when he finally sinks his hard cock inside of you. Despite your wetness, the stretch from him still makes your back arch, and one sharp inhale is enough for him to clash his lips with yours and drink up your lewd moans like he hasn’t drank anything in weeks. The tense grip he has on your thighs tells you that he’s holding back, thumbs pressing hard enough to stain your skin violet.

“F-Fuck,” he hisses, eyes screwing shut with pleasure. “You’re so warm,”

His gravelly voice makes your pussy throb around him again, sucking him in and drawing a punched-out groan from deep inside of him. That’s when something snaps inside of Anakin, he completely loses control when he pushes your knees into your chest before doubling down and fucking you hard, ruthless and unforgiving.

“Ah!” You cry out, reaching for him and stabilizing yourself on his leather glove. 

Your other hand cradles around the back of his neck, pulling him down, and you sink into each other’s rhythm like puzzle pieces

Anakin’s ruthless pace allows for his cockhead to slam into your cervix; he’s so deep you can feel it in your stomach. You find it hard to breathe and you start gasping breathlessly into his mouth. Your wet cunt is squeezing him so sweetly that he can’t help but let out a groan into your mouth, pace faltering for a brief second. He lets his head fall onto your shoulder, rutting eagerly into your desperate hole, sucking him back in every time he pulls out and essentially milking his cock. He bites his lip to stifle a deep moan.

“If I had known your pussy was this good, I would’ve fucked you months ago,” Anakin confesses in his haze.

He emphasizes his words with another deep pump into your core that echoes through you with a sob. Your nails scratch shamelessly down his back and you grip him impossibly tighter.

“Hah,” he hisses, eyes screwing shut.

He lifts himself to full height to take in the full sight of you, never letting his unforgiving pace slow. You’re a disaster under him, eyes crossing with pleasure, tears mixing with sweat on your temples, a messy mixture of both of your saliva coating your chin.

The sheer sight of you beneath him is enough for his dick to twitch inside of you, grazing his leaking tip against your g-spot in such a way that sends electric jolts to your burning core. Before you know it, you’re tumbling towards your orgasm.

Anakin can sense it, “you’re close?”

You nod frantically, eyes locked on him. You bite your lip, trying your hardest to find the strength to put words together in your defeated state. He’s fucking you so good, and you’re so desperate for it, taking everything he gives you without protest like the obedient little slut that you are.

“Y-Yes!” You finally choke out, “yes, ‘m so close, ah— fuck-! please, feels s-so good…”

He’s proud of you. 

With a permitting nod from your Master, the fuse inside of you finally explodes and sends fireworks shooting through your body. Your back arches up into his stomach, soft walls spasming around his aching cock so perfectly that his eyes screw shut and his nails dig into your hips as he leans over you. He drives his length into you a few more times, letting out a shattered growl when he finally buries himself inside of you and finishes, filling you up with white streaks while you shake beneath him.

Anakin rides out his high with a final few sloppy grinds against you before draping his tired body over yours. The two of you take a minute to come back down to Earth, engulfed by your collective hot gasps and pants that thicken the air of your bedroom.

As your heartbeat begins to calm, you can feel Anakin’s still pounding excitedly against your chest. You can hear him try to regulate his shaky breathing against your neck, but he’s still worked up.

Suddenly, the speed of his lazy rocks picks up again.

A moan rips through your chest, “W-Wait, A-Anakin! Please-! I-I can’t take it— Ahh—!”

“You can take it,” he nods, voice slurring.

You squirm beneath him, trying to escape his overstimulating thrusts when he grabs you by the thighs and drags your body back into his lap, holding you still with one hand as the other gloved one reaches up to gently tweak your nipples, trying to give you something to relieve the aching pressure in your core.

Next thing you know, you’re back at the start, with your back slightly arching into his touch and your cunt swallowing him greedily.

It’ll be a long night.

a/n: daddy skywalker fic for father’s day mwahaha >:D

[mehiwilldoitlater]

((gosh i took a lot to do this.. :P))

@justafreakynothingelse

@amamemuchoporfavor

You felt little, small, and insignificant.

No matter how many times he returned to you, in that palace that he had specifically had built for you, his fiancée, to help you accommodate to Terra. No matter how many gifts he had made you or how many possibilities he had presented you, you always felt so small near Lord Lupercal.

Oh, yes, just Horus was enough for him.

The knot on your throat, which you felt every day, only enlarged itself every time he was closer to you, every time he reminded you that soon you'll be officially his wife and legion mother. You couldn't believe how relieved you felt every time he asked your blessing for a new campaign that would have taken him away from Terra for weeks, and oh, how bad you felt about it. Just like you felt now, looking at the ground, scratching your fingers with your nails, hoping that he could just leave you there in that house, alone with those few serfs that he had hired, alone with your thoughts and sighs.

"So?" He reached down, allowing himself to kneel in front of you enough to meet your eyes. "Can this poor fighter receive a blessing for good fortune from his spouse?"

He must have confused your reluctance for shyness; that was the only reason you found. Well, your sister did use this excuse to justify your lack of enthusiasm around your lord, but now, without her, you felt like it was more like a shield. You bow your head lightly, trying to hide the nervousness.

"I… I pray for your success, my lo…Horus…"

He hummed, satisfied.

When you flinched at his movement, like getting closer to your face, hee couldn't hold back a chuckle. In his eyes you were just too adorable. Was he able to see how uncomfortable you were? You hoped that it was.

///

The menacing presence of the warship in the skies was a bad omen, but no one had started shooting anyone, so maybe the negotiations were going well? You hoped so; your sister was adamant about protecting the people.

The few maids that were still with you waited patiently; the heavy aura in the room was palpable.

Your planet was small and peaceful, but it had the largest and most luxurious cultivating ground in the sector, so it was just a matter of time for the Imperium to decide to claim it for itself, alongside the lives of the royal family and its inhabitants. Maybe the thought of a young queen such as your sister seemed an easy obstacle to move over, yet you knew how prideful yet careful she was, and she seemed extremely secure of herself about her plan to avoid conflict and gain protection from these new invaders.

When the guard opened the door, your heart stopped for a few seconds.

"My lady, her majesty the Queen has requested your presence."

You sighed in relief; that was a good sign, and for a moment a wave of hope calmed your nerves. You silently followed the guard through the castle, but you felt less than secure now in its walls.

Around you, faces that once were familiar and were like normalcy to you were now replaced by those giants made of iron and metal. Despite their armor being covered in a pure white snow color, the aspect was far from amicable, covered in sigil- and skull-like shapes like some kind of decoration or band of honor. Their shape also did not make you feel safer either; the guard that was escorting you, despite being already big on his own, was merely reaching the chest of the smallest one of these creature-like men, and by the size of their bodies, they were massive too. One wrong move, and you would have been crushed.

Many of them were just talking with each other, exchanging information or a few words about their current mission and the whereabouts of this planet, and you found yourself relieved to know that almost not one of them had noticed you. And the few who had just decided to ignore you, completely unfazed by your status or position. Most of them had their helms on, making their expressions grimmer and more difficult to read, accompanied by a soft and ominous red light on their visors. But the few of them that had freed their faces from their cover revealed old battle scars, curious metal objects installed in their skulls, and piercing eyes that made those visors less threatening than the real thing. If someone had, in fact, laid his eyes on you, you promptly fastened your foot, staying in the shadow of the guard like a protective shield or something.

When you finally reached the royal study, your own sister study, what welcomed you was… Well, he looked like a man.

The Astartes, that was what they were called, were big? He was beyond big.

The study was one of those large ones because you were sure that a regular room would have been definitely inadequate for someone that big and large. His face was squared, full of angles, with a big jaw and a few wrinkles here and there. His face was curiously clean from scars or free from any alien object, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to beam with curiosity once he saw you enter the room. He shared a small bow with his head, the first in all day from his people, and a small smile that showed a sign of dimples.

On his shoulder, the fur of what you understood was once a wolf by the head that was looking directly at you and his armor, white like the others, was adorned by intricate decorations, a small sign of his prestige and his high position in this militia. What really caught your attention was that red gem incastonated around his armor, a glowing eye that seemed to follow whoever watched and observe continuously.

You gulped. Your sister turned around, a beaming smile on her face, when she rushed towards you, leading you into the room, only the desk separating you and his colossus, who couldn't even fit on the normal chairs.

"My Lord," she started, "she's my sister, Princee Y/n."

He moved his head closer, observing you. A small nudge from your sister made you finally turn away from his interested glare.

"You were right, your highness," he said, very much interested in you. "She is quite lovely, as you said."

You blushed, but now you were curious as to why your sister had described you like that. He needed just a few steps to come closer to the two of you, bowed his head with more vigor, and put a hand on his chest.

"I am Horus Lupercal, Princess Y/n. Son of the Emperor, Warmaster, and Primarch of the Luna Wolves. I hope my sons didn't startle you too much."

Oh, so that explained his almost impossible proportions. A Primarch, one of the sons of the Emperor of Mankind, was there, in front of you. Now you really wanted to disappear; instead, you just curtsy, finally finding some strength in your legs.

"M-my pleasure… My Lord…" Your sister seems still quite satisfied, looking at the warmaster with a similar beaming expression.

"If I may be so bold, my lord, may i ask…if we're settled?"

"Well," he said, scratching his chin, "I think we are, your majesty."

You looked at your sister, a puzzled expression that still leaked some anxiety.

"Y/n," she said, holding your hands. "From today on, you're officially engaged with Lord Horus!"

…ah…

///

When he finally disappeared from your view, when you were sure that he wouldn't turn around expecting another wave of your hand, you reentered the mansion, walking slowly but steadily along the path. The eyes of the few who had been entrusted to guard you, to watch over you, followed you like predators follow prey. They stopped once you finally reached the door of your private garden, the o è place, outside your room, where no one was allowed to enter, an exact copy of the one you had before, the one thing you asked To your future husband.

There, and only there, you finally let the anxiety and the pressure leave your body, allowing a full sense of tiredness to engulf you totally. Your back pressed to the door, a long and exhausted sigh finally exited your lips, your shoulder slumping down free from an invisible weight. Only after recalling a few of your strengths did you reach the small fountain, allowing yourself to sit and savor the scene of plants and flowers.

How long until you break? This was all a lie, a pretense that cost you nights of sleep and peace of mind.

You didn't want to marry Horus, you didn't want to leave your planet, you didn't want to become Lady Lupercal, you didn't want any of this, and yet you allowed everything to happen. You massaged your face; you didn't know how long you were able to hold on, but you felt like you were really close to your breaking point.

"This act is starting to corrode you, I see…"

Mold, some ints of dust and fresh soil. This smell came to you, and your heart started to slow down, easing the pain. A faint smile appeared on your face, your eyes focusing on the shadow cast near the tree.

"And I see you're still not using the front door…"

A small scoff came from the tree.

///

"A marriage?!"

Finally free from everyone's presence, you allowed yourself to speak freely to your sister, alone in front of the fountain.

"It is necessary," she responded, "for our people and for our planet. Lord Lupercal will allow our family to continue to rule and to keep most of our organization."

"But…what about my consent? Why didn't you inform me?"

"I didn't have time, but trust me when I say that fortune smiled upon you! Lord Lupercal is beyond everyone's imagination! And he's eager to wed you on Terra!"

You stumbled in your words; you felt everything and nothing. That moment, mostly shocked by this absurdity. Before you could speak again, your sister had already started heading towards Herbstudg again to prepare everything.

"You'll thank me! Believe me, everything is going perfectly!"

She disappeared from your view and you. You understood what you felt.

Betrayed.

You felt betrayed by a sister that had sold you to the Imperium, and now she acted like she had just done nothing wrong. You needed to sit to find something to not collapse on the ground, finding only the border of the fountain.

For days you tried endlessly to speak to her, to try to make your voice matter in this discussion, and every time she had dismissed you without a chance to speak. talking about taking care of more important matters. On other occasions you were instead almost taken away by your fiancé in attempts to learn something of you and make you accustomed to him.

He had tried, you had to admit it, he did, to try to understand you, and yes, he was maybe the most charming man that you ever met, and yet still, in the back of your mind, a small voice made you be guarded by his actions, his words full of emphasis and of your future life together. A voice that helped you to not get swayed by his romantic gestures, at least that's what you thought when he had presented you with the most precious set pf jewelry that your eyes ever landed on.

And, even with him, you never had the courage to finally tell him the truth. Who had the kind of heart and courage to refuse the marriage proposal of a Primarch, the favorite one of the Emperor even?! No, not knowing that the future of your planet was at stake. And yet, you wanted nothing to do with the entire situation.

You tried again to speak with your sister, only to be dismissed again, and, on the same garden that had slowly become your refuge, you were able to express your true feelings without fear of offending or endangering innocent people.

"If he's so great, THEN MARRY HIM YOURSELF!"

You finally screamed, throwing in the water your tiara, holding your tears in your tired lungs.

"I can't marry him, I CAN'T! Why did you have to put me into this?! Why must I be the one that has to sacrifice everything?!"

You were so deep in your depression, in your shoutings and your rage against the one member of your family that could have stopped everything, that you didn't notice a figure moving attentively in the shadow of the trees and near the walls of the garden.

There was a subtle shift in the leaves and grass, a hesitant sequence of steps, and the sound of armor clacking. But you couldn't hear it, nor could you perceive the movements under your wet lashes and the hiccups of frustration.

"I don't…I don't want to marry him…I don't wnat to marry Horus!"

Suddenly, a hum. Something small that, in the silence of your lament, you caught only by luck. You stopped trying to calm your hiccups, looking around. You noticed the shadow, the calm movement of a white cape, and a large figure behind the tree, just a few steps from the end of the garden, near the wall. Whatever was hiding, it must have understood that its presence must have been discovered; it stayed there like a statue, maybe hoping you could just ignore it and believe it was all a trick of your mind.

But you didn't, and sweeping away your tears and clearing your throat, you rose from your seat.

"Who's there?!"

No one spoke, not a single word.

"…Is someone there?"

A few steps, and you started to get closer, ready to scream to alert the guards.

"Don't—…"

You stopped on your feet, a curious smell of something dirty and dusty, like an old room that is opened after centuries of isolation, came into your nostrils.

"…Don't…come closer."

The voice was one of a man, or so you thought. It was cracky, low, like the one of a sick person that desperately tries to breathe. At the same time, it seemed like it was coming from a vent, like something had been posed on whoever was speaking's mouth. A mask? With enough focus, the small spasms of pistons and tubes pump something somewhere. An oxygen machine?

"….W-what… Who are you"?

A moment of silence, he contemplated what to say and how to say it.

"…No one that you need to know…"

"How…how long have you been there?"

"…Enough to know about your…unfortunate situation.'"

You gasped; you had actually opened your mind with someone, the last thing you wanted now. A terrifying thought pops up in your mind once you have again noticed the statue of this mysterious figure, big enough to reach one of the Astartes that seemed to have found refuge in your house.

"Y-you're… You're one of Horus's men?! P-please don't tell him what I say! I beg you, please, I'm sorry; I'll do anything!"

"Hush," you only saw a hand, massive, covered in a thick layer of an armor. "I'm…not affiliated with the Lupercal… I'm someone else…"

Your heart stopped beating from the fear. Yet, he didn't seem like one of your own men… You weren't forgotten, but you didn't feel safe either.

"But," he started again, "you got me curious… I saw generals that can slit others' throats to talk with my…the Warmaster, or just to share a glance with him… And you aren't happy with your betrothed?"

A dry laugh. It wasn't bad; it wasn't with malice; it was just flat, almost sarcastic, like this one joke that he had never even dreamed of hearing.

"…I-I'm happy! I am!"

"Oh please," he sighed. "You can hold on to your sister and with Horus, but I heard you. You're not…"

"…I still can call the guard." You spoke, offended by his tone and his words that, despite all, were true, "and made you arrested for trespassing!"

"You could… but you didn't…"

You didn't speak… Why weren't you calling for help? Were you so used to being walked over that you didn't care if someone was ready to blackmail you?

Or maybe you just wanted for once to speak without fear?

You didn't know. You just closed your hands on each other, looking down on the marbles of the garden.

"…You…come from Terra?"

"…sort of…"

"…how…how is it?"

"…not so different from this garden."

You could only respond with a small Oh. Despite the curious encounter, you were less scared by this draggy voice than the presence of the Primarch.

///

"You never told me, you know?"

He said, sitting with his back towards you, still hidden behind the tree. Even after your arrival on this old and sacred planet, which was the opposite of your own home planet, your curious and mysterious friend never stopped visiting you. You still thought that he was part of the Emperor Angels, since he could disappear for weeks without notice and reappear like nothing had happened. And you, you would have kept on talking like you never stopped before, a keep-on-going conversation between you two.

"About what?" You kept on reading, still not facing him, the only request he had ever made of you, even if you started to get curious about him.

"He's the favorite one; many fall for his charm, and...well, he is the one that many would dream to have in your position. And you are …repulsed by him?"

"Oh, no, no, don't get me wrong… He is charming indeed, and he has treated me with less than care, but…"

"But, you're not like other girls?" He said, with a sarcastic hint that you learned was part of his personality.

"I am like other girls. I had dreams and expectations. But…" you stopped, unsure to reveal that something in you told you to be aware of the Lupercal, "… I just don't think it would be right."

Another silence fell between the two of you, one unsure to keep on talking about the subject and the other wondering if what you said was true or not.

"…it would be right to tell him what you feel about the ordeal. He's…an understanding one, if taken in the right way."

You scoffed, closing the book in your lap.

"I don't have enough courage to do so. And…my people need it, as does my sister. I am lucky indeed…"

"But you're not sure… Are you?"

"…it seems like you know him." You said, trying to clench a curiosity that you had… "Is he…faithful?"

"Are you worried that he will wed you and then run after other ladies?" He laughed again, but the lack of comments from you raised a silence that made him. aware that maybe that was a heavy subject. Your hands clasped with each other, scratching your skin… You could speak to him; he had always been trustworthy. After all, you allowed him to come…

"…My father was a good king," you started, "but he…he never loved my mother."

"…he had a mistress?"

"Oh, a lot of them! Many even closer to my own mother! Which made the thing more hurtful for her."

You got closer to the tree, sitting on the other side of the trunk, always making sure not to see him, the smell of dirt now closer.

"A few took her… But I always knew that it was the alcohol that she used to forget that poisoned her at some point."

"…and your…"

"My father? Eh, he reaped what he sowed. A bad case of syphilis!" You laughed, one that was made from the heart even if you knew how cruel your act was, and took with him a few of those women too"!

He didn't laugh, but he understood that your disinterest in your sire was merely a hidden hatred for what he had done to your mother. He knew pretty well.

"… He wanted to marry us off as soon as he could to gain power. My sister promised me that with her it would have been different, that she would have listened…"

"…the apple hasn't fallen far, I see...an old Terran way of talking". He continued, sensing your curiosity.

A subtle snap caught by our ears, the sound of a rustle, almost imperceptible—he just had snapped a leaf from the tree and started to move it between his fingers.

"And what you wanted to do instead of just play the nice princess?"

"… being a medic." You surmised after contemplating the idea of sharing more than you needed with him.

"You wanted to study the Medicae art?"

"Well, technically I already did study, but… Reading books, gathering information, and memorizing are not the same thing as practicing."

"Do you know what being a medic means, right?" His voice serious, showing again that mature side of him that made you wonder how many horrors he had faced before, "It is not a nice job. To do it, you must have a certain…guts for it."

You hummed; after all, he wasn't wrong. But you did know how gruesome and thankless it was. The first time you saw the drawing of the anatomy of a body…you did have trouble eating meat for a few days.

"…I do know that... But...I still wonder how it feels to be able to help people for real like that."

You heard the sound of something tapping on the leather; he was touching his legs. When he was thinking, you learned, he tended to do that often.

"Horus is an understanding man," he finally spoke. "Explain to him. He would understand."

You looked to the trunk in disbelief. What kind of suggestion was that?! He wanted to marry a princess, not a medic!

"No, no, I can't! He always says that he wants to make me his legion mother! That I'll have obligations, duty, and—"

"If you have to keep this facade, "he stopped you, "at least you should try to create a way to endure it with something. If you don't fight, you won't get anything out of this."

Despite the harshness, he was right. You didn't want to be the pretty doll put somewhere only to create the perfect image for Horus; the simple idea increased your incoming depression. You sighed. After all, what was the worst that could have happened?

///

That day, he was far more enthusiastic than he was on his previous visit. You assumed, perhaps, that the fact that you started to be a little more involved and put an effort into trying to get closer did, in fact, do its trick. In a certain way you wanted to slap yourself, since your only objective was mostly trying to convince him to consider the idea of allowing you to start practice. With that gleam in his eyes, you thought, maybe he would even accept it.

Now, right now, he was laughing at his own words, remembering an incident involving a few of his closest members of the legion.

"That poor ambassador then started to follow me every way, FEARING to mistake Aximand for me AGAIN!"

He took a big sigh after calming down from the laughter. You observed him, noticing how his face became redder after the outburst, his face full of wrinkles from the hilarity that just the memory of the event gave him. You remembered the man from the story; he did look scarcely similar to your fiancé, and you wondered if there was some intentional thing behind it. He was …nice? As much as his men were, you could know and share a few greetings with his trusted men, the mournival, he called them.

"You must be pretty close to them," you tried to prompt out.

"Oh yes, very much indeed." He continued, placing his massive hand on your smaller one, "And I hope you can too! After all, you'll work side by side to hold the legion together!"

Well, you thought that seemed the right moment, since he had brought the argument there.

"Actually," for the first time you dared to hold his hand, you barely could take a finger. "I have a request to make."

His expression changed to a surprised one, interested in your words. This was basically the first time you actually asked him for anything, and there was a sort of eagerness in his look.

"Oh, of course! Everything for you, my dear!"

"It's about my position as…as your wife, in the Legion. Well…"

You cleared your throat, nervousness dripping from your voice. Your hands were trembling a little, and his motion to smooth them, passing his thumbs over them, didn't help that much.

"I don't know how much you knew about me, but…I always had a …certain predisposition for medicine, and…well, I hoped that maybe I could…start practicing…under supervision, of course!"

His look, well… He wasn't surprised anymore; he wasn't even concerned or anything. You swear you had never seen him holding such a composed and collected expression. It was mostly like he was gathering thoughts in his mind, and maybe your hopeful expression made the thing a hard pill to swallow.

"I appreciate that you wanted to confess this to me. Also, I am more than happy to meet a side of you that seems that even your own sister didn't know about. You have all my respect about it; it's not an easy task…"

A small smile appeared on your face; you could almost touch that small dream of yours!

"But, I'm sorry, I fear that it wouldn't be a possibility in your future position."

And it started to fall far away from your grasp. He must have noticed the sudden expression and the realization that your hopes were crushed. You whispered a few buts here and there; the weight of that moment made your voice a murmur.

"Holding the title of Mother Legion , being actually part of it, is not an easy task, and I'm afraid that all your forces and time will be focused on the chapter and nothing else."

"…But," you tried to hold on to another thin stray of hope, "M-maybe I could still try… I can manage to balance both of these jobs; I could even help other—"

He raised his hand, stopping you from talking. There was an almost grieving expression on his face. Was he actually sad about giving all of this information?

"No, little one. I doubt you can do something as balancing two activities such as these. And, besides, I know the gruesome way my sons can become in battle, and, as much as I still appreciate your interest, I would like to save you from viewing such a grotesque show like the ones that the medicae witness every day."

And with that, you wanted to punch your confidant for even considering this option. You were grateful that Horus hadn't laughed in your face upon hearing your intention, but his tone, the one that a parent tends to use to a child, was still kind of stinging your already tattered ego. You just nodded, acknowledging the fact that you'll be forever stuck in a job that you never even wanted to have in the first place, and fearing a future where you'll reduce yourself to searching for solace in the bottle like your mother.

He patted your head, reading you like a book, understanding your disappointment, but soon he graced himself with another wide smile, taking from one of his giant pockets a velvet box, not big like one that you could fear but enough to contain a piece of jewelry of some considerable value.

"It was supposed to be a gift; now I hope it can cheer my beloved up a bit!"

Once he opened the box, you had to halt out of fear after the surprise of a big predator eye looking directly towards you. After that, you realized that it was indeed an eye, an intricate ruby with the shape of it. It shined menacingly; the black of the onyx cut the gem in the center, while silver decorated the edge, securing it on a black velvet choker. It was extremely simple, and yet its value must have been the same as the royal crown back at your homeworld.

You were gulped by the view of it. Your eyes darted toward the similar gemstone that held his cape, a similar eye that kept his gaze everywhere, his own insignia.

"It is natural that you'll wear my coat of arms; to be fair, I would be honored to see you in it."

"I…" I don't know what to say…"

"I wish to see you in it."

It was a collar, a sign just to make sure that everyone knew where you belonged. You felt a shiver down your spine, making a step back when he snatched the gem from the box, ready to mark you in the fanciest and most secret way.

"I-I really don't think it's necessary!"

"Why not?" Just a try won't hurt!"

"No, please, I just can't… I don't—"

"I insist, just for a few—"

"I CAN'T MARRY YOU!"

Your hands clasped your mouth before the words could stop. In an instant you felt the entire world freeze under a layer of ice; everything stopped and moved so quicklyy at the same time. It felt unreal, like those so many fantasies that you had every every timepracticedthat untold monologue. His face glued on you, he seemed shocked by you, registeringour words, trying maybe to find some mistake, maybe a misspelled word, but those words were so real that they they gave no room for possibility.

His silence was maybe the thing that put you most at unease, feeling a bolt of anxiety scurrying in your head like a tornado. But he didn't speak; he just stared, confused, maybe curious, and you wanted now more than ever to speak your mind.

"I'm sorry," you needed to set things right; he didn't deserve a fate like that " but…everything is just wrong." This marriage is…I'm sorry, this was just my sister's idea! I…I don't want to be your wife…"

His curious looks suddenly became suspicious ones, raising one eyebrow.

"There's someone else?" His voice emitted something like a growl or a rumble.

"No!" You immediately spoke, trying to quell whatever kind of rage he could unleash " its……you're incredible, unique, and clearly whoever would surely die to be in my pisition but…not…no…not me..." You deserve someone that will appreciate you…"

Surely your explanation did have an effect on the primarch, because his shoulders seemed to relax, his accusatory looks slowly fading away.

"… Maybe we… I…moved too fast for your own liking. You must forgive my rashness, but…to be the first of my brothers to be wed must have clouded my judgment."

His tone was calm, and this time it looked like he wasn't trying to talk with a small child that didn't know any better but with an actual person. Somehow, it made you feel better.

He took back the velvet box and fixed his robe. You must admit that he had taken the refusal far better than you imagined before, even if there was something in his voice that held a "but," one that you feared was coming.

"I just ask you, if it is not a definitive answer, to think about it." Enough to not rush things like before."

You seemed to ponder a little and, with a nod ,you accept this option. Not because you wanted to think about the possibility of agreeing with this engagement, but because you wanted to find a better way to handle the storm that you fear will come.

Your gesture, once again, gains some effect on Horus. He sighs, somehow relieved.

"Thank you, my dear."

Once he leaves, for the first time in weeks, the weight in your chest finally feels less heavy than ever. You can actually breathe, and your mind is not plagued with visions of a future that you have no control over. You expect something will happen, because it will happen, but, at least, you feel secure, confident even!

You wanted to feel it as long as you could.

///

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!"

It was nice while it lasted. News announcements were not given. Horus had saved you, or himself, the shame and decided to opt for a small postponement, blaming whatever reason could look justifiable. But, of course, he couldn't hide the truth from your sister, searching for an ally in your own blood.

She must have moved just after hearing from him, which is the reason for her dress being completely a mess and the lack of makeup or jewelry. She presented herself like that, in her room dress, hair tied up in a messy bun, and started shouting at you like you were to blame and had just committed some kind of felony. At least, you were alone, away from the eyes of Horus's sons, but you feared that with her tone they would eventually hear everything.

"Do you have the SLIGHTEST idea of what you have done?!" YOU HAD REFUSED HIM! HIM! HORUS LUPERCAL!"

You stood silent, looking down, now the weight coming back.

"Have you thought about the consequences?!" About your small game, would it impact everyone?! You need to apologize to him for this…whatever kind of idea you had and going along with this marriage!"

While you were receiving the last venomous words from her, your eyes fell on the garden, out from the window, to the tree near the wall.

If you don't fight, you won't get anything out of this.

"…No."

Your sister stopped her rafting, hearing something that she must have perceived as a small sound, a nuisance like a mouse, and looked at you.

"What did you just say?"

"I said…no."

It wasn't a nuisance; it was your voice. It was your will and your own life on the line.

"I'll apologize, but my decision is final." I won't marry Lord Horus. This marriage has only benefited you and the Imperium, and…and I can't do it."

"You…you can't be serious!" She emitted a nervous laugh, trying to catch the joke in your words, "You can't do this!" Think about everyone else! About our own planet!"

"I do," you responded, finally seeing another small truck from her trying to use your own people against you, "and I'll find a way to." avoid them any repercussion, but…I can't let you do this to me…not after what our is being though mother."

A few seconds passed. Like always, your mind played out several scenarios, such as your sister dismissing your thoughts and feelings, scolding you again, or, in that small hopeful part of your little heart, accepting it and trying to find another solution. You did want to, because in the end she was your sister, right? The same woman that once was a girl that, on the day of her coronation as new ruler, promised you that she would never make you meet a fate such as your beloved mother's. The same sister that stood close with you at the queen's final breath, listening to her final words, asking you, no, begging both of you to never fall for these wicked games of power.

You felt the sharp sting of her ring meeting your cheek, the hard pavement where your body collided, and the clear metallic savor of blood in your mouth.

Her hand was still high, red from the impact that she made with your face, and her look was very close to the one you had always imagined that Horus could have had when you refused him. To her, it was more painful and scary than he could ever produce.

"Listen up, you little brat," her voice cruel, closer to your ear, you could hear her teeth clenching with every word. "You WILL marry the Lupercal. You'll be her wife, and Emperor be my witness, you'll even produce an heir with him. You'll do it because YOUR QUEEN told you so, and should I ever hear of more problems from you, you'll PRAY that you'll receive more than a slap on your face. Am I clear?!"

That…creature, that wasn't your sister, not anymore. This one was just another ruler that had used you to make sure her power didn't fall to another, someone that was able to step on everything that could be sacred, her own blood too. Your eyes filled with tears; you wanted to weep, but everything stopped when the same hand that you once held near now gripped your hair, forcing you to look up.

"AM I?!"

"…y…yes…yes, my…my queen…"

When she released you from her grip, you didn't dare to look up. You just heard her foot leaving her there, on the ground, hurt and utterly alone.

Yes, because you never felt more lonely than you ever did. The confidence that you had was now shattered; you felt even ashamed from the thought that you could even try to gain some ownership of your life.

You could do nothing, and maybe it was better if you did nothing at all. The more you struggled, the more things went bad.

When one of your serfs came in the room, what she found was you in a sobbing mess, your eyes clouded by the tears and your cheek swollen and ready to get a purple color.

She tried to ask you what happened, but you were far too tired and drained of every ounce of strength to be able to respond. coherently. She could only guess since she did had saw the Queen, your sister, exiting the palace, clening her hand like she had touch something almost radioactive.

What she was able to do was lead you in your chambers, ignoring the questioning looks from the few Astartes stationed there, who could only guess about the event. She did the best she could, helping you calm down, treating the wound hoping to hide the bruise and the cut, that by the way it was seemed to be not so deep but still large. What she really feared was that, sooner than later, she was supposed to gave the current event to a certain individual, and she wondered how bad the things could just turn out.

///

Days passed like mere lights in front of you. Hours and days mnerged together in a jumble of details that you couldn't figure it out.

You refused to go in the garden; you didn't dare to meet or talk with whoever had made you believe that you could still have some ownership of yourself. Part of you was angry because you did listen to him and wanted to believe that you could really gain something out of it, but another part was just afraid. Afraid of being seen as the coward you were by accepting your sister's demands, or maybe you were afraid to meet some disappointment in that voice.

You were always good at accepting everything that was happening around you and to you, so then why the sudden change?

Your cheek hasn't healed at all; you wondered if you should tell Horus the cause of the wound or find a good excuse. He was smart; he would have made two plus two, and you knew he would immediately know who was responsible. But you would pledge for her safety because it was just an outburst, because the great Lord Lupercal doesn't need to take care of small issues between sisters.

You would just explain that you fell down the stairs, who needed to know by the way?

Looking outside the window, the dim light of the sun started to signal the ending of the day. You didn't remember when he had to come back from his last mission; what you knew was that he would look happy to know that you changed your mind… Maybe you should have at least told your secret friend about your final decision… He did deserve to know that his presence wasn't required any longer.

Besides a few serfs and the few guards here and there, the palace was a fortress of solitude and silence, a golden cage made to keep you inside, to be looked after and secured against things that you would at least love to know. You weren't sure to find him there, waiting for you in the same corner; after all, if he had ever cared for you, he would have at least looked for you, but that didn't matter in that moment. You just wanted to say your farewell and get going with your life, hoping to find something to cope with in the future.

Once you reached the garden, you looked around, searching for any sign of his presence, maybe a shadow, a movement, a rustle between the leaves...but no one was there, between you and yourself at least. The corner didn't have that massive silhouette hidden between the bushes and the tattered and dirty cloak, and as much as you could hear, the only sound around was the water and a few whistles of the wind.

You were almost ready to leave when something else caught your eye, and the sting of pain came back to you.

He changed his spot, opting now for another trunk, a tree covered in some light bluish and lilac flower that you never had the chance to learn.

You took a big breath; you needed it. He must have showered because, for some reason, no smell of mold and dust came from the area, only the sweet scent of flowers and the freshness of the leaves. When you got closer to the tree, you noticed a small shift, like he was gesturing with something in his hands, but you opted to look to the other side, still trying to hold on to the silent agreement you both had to never see each other clearly.

Now it seemed a blessing, because you would hate yourself more by seeing his disappointed gloom over you.

"You're…back…" I'm glad…. I… I need to tell you something about our meetings…"

He stopped, paying attention to your words, waiting.

"…We can't do this anymore. I… I must accept Horus's proposal and put an end to these secret meetings… even if I did enjoy them more than you could believe."

He didn't speak, but you felt a change in the area, alongside a series of long, strong urges not to look at him. breaths. You found it strange that you couldn't hear the sound of the mask.

"I thank you for your encouragement. I appreciate how much you wanted me to stand up for myself and…and accept this marriage…but it is for the greater good… So we must say goodbye…"

He still didn't move, but his breath, it stopped altogether…did he just stop breathing? And…why wasn't he talking? Usually he was always ready with those sarcastic remarks, those words that were stingy like a splinter but true, with that tone that finally spoke to you like an actual person…

He hasn't commented on you being late, saying nothing about your decision, questioning you…

You got close, facing the tree, and he didn't move; he didn't ask you to stop, to not look at him… and you were curious. If this was the last time, didn't you at least deserve to see his face? To meet the person that, for once, had actually listened to you?

One step, then another… Your hand reached the flowers, slowly moving them away. You could see something, some colors and…

And your heart froze when those piercing blue eyes,cold as ice, met yours.

"So…you lied to me; you did have another, uh?" Horus's voice was, like always, calm and collected, almost flat, like nothing could strike him. Yet those words were enough to make your heart start to beat so fast that you begged it to just explode and make it quick.

How long was he there? You thought he was supposed to come back in some more days! Was your perception so shattered by the current events that weeks had passed and you didn't even notice it? He made some footsteps towards you; two single, secured, thundering stomps were enough for you to march behind, trying to keep a long distance between the two of you, like you could save yourself from him.

He looked like he hadn't even received a notice at all, but in his voice, his breath, in his everything, you felt something that you had never felt on him, that he had tried to hide with carefulness to make himself look more human, natural, like he could belong: rage.

"M-My….My lord, I—"

"Spare me your excuses. Why don't you tell me the name of who I am competing with?"

You gulped; the more you tried to keep the distance, the closer he was, step by step. You couldn't even run; he would have just grabbed you, and who knows what.

"How long has this thing been going on?" How long my future wife, he never spoke that word with that kind of venom in his voice, "had allowed his lover to come and keep her company?"

This thing, this accusation, this one did make you snap.

"NO! I've always been true; there's been no one!"

"Then my sons had lied too?" He raised his eyebrow. "No, the mistake was mine for this… I dismissed their questions, their worries about an intruder that the princess allowed inside, correct?"

So, they knew?! How many of them knew?! You started to feel your legs collapsing, your head spiraling. Those Astartes, his sons, were they even there for your safety or just to spy on you?! You wanted to breathe, to hide somewhere, but you couldn't, not under Horus's rageful eyes.

"I would like to avoid it, but if you won't speak… I won't be kind as your sister with a slap on your face."

You covered your still purplish face, feeling your guts contorting with a new fear. If your sister's slap was enough to make your face swell, who knows what Horus could do and what he would do to you even! His looks started to lose their flatness; now his teeth, scarily pointing, like the sharp ones of a wolf, started to show up in his mouth, and a small growl erupted from his throat as words. He was more a beast than a human, showing you his true colors and a scary perspective of your future.

You couldn't move, you couldn't talk, and you just hoped that the earth could open up and swallow you whole. His body was dangerously close to you, his breath, hot like a furnace, over your head, like he could just swallow you up in one go.

"I want a name…NOW."

You wanted to say something, to plead, to lie, and then something fast, big, and enraged smashed toward the Warmaster. Horus couldn't predict the crash, but his strength was enough to keep him from falling down, but he had to take far too many steps back once the thing that had hit him could finally see. It wasn't the view that was the first thing you noticed, but the smell, that moldy essence…

He held a defensive stance, no weapon in his arms, but he was ready to fight with his own bare hands. One of them was raised enough to shield you, to create a wall made of meat and bones between you and Horus. His breath was ragged and fast, the mask did the best it could to keep it up, and a whistle was audible from his effort.

"ENOUGH, HORUS!"

This voice… his stature… He was as tall as Horus, less muscular but still with an imposing aura around him. The hand that was in front of you wasn't as hard as rock as the one that Horus used for patting your head like a puppy, but gaunt, long, and almost skeletal, but strong enough to still do harm. He wore robes that could make him pass as a beggar or an assassin, torn to the edges, and an old leather coat that covered his body, alongside a light armor of a dirty white shade. His head was difficult to see, covered in a cowl made of an old material like cotton, and his face seemed to be covered in the same material, but at the edges of his face, you were able to notice some scar tissue, like if his face was covered in wounds or burns.

When Horus could finally get a better look, his face finally showed a shocked expression, he expected everything except the one reality in front of his eyes.

"Mortarion?…What are you doing here?!"

Mortarion… When did you first hear this name? It was one of those many times Horus talked to you about his life, and he mentioned his brothers. There were a few that he had mentioned barely a few times, exchanging just a few descriptions about them for the way he had always perceived them, hoping that you could think the same way as him, but some others, on the other hand, had carved a good spot in his heart. One of them held a name that held a grim meaning, but from Horus's perspective, no one could be more trusted than the brother that usually was pitied by his own brethren.

They look at him and see a freak, he once told you, but I watched him, and no one holds the same resolve and strength as him.

"What am I doing?!" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Berating a baseline on mere conjectures?!" His voice barked with indignation towards his brother, only to calm down a little once he faced you. "Are you all right, little one?"

You were able to catch a glimpse of his eyes, a dangerous yellow, adorned with some glimpses of green that reminded you of everything that was toxic and dangerous to the touch. But his looks were anything but dangerous, at least towards you. You whispered a tiny yes, still trying to process the unraveled situation.

For months, the one that had been secretly coming to you was Mortarion, Horus's brother?! But how?! You thought that, the day you met the Warmaster, only the Luna Wolves came to your planet! And was he the one that was inspiring you to get out of your marriage? But why?!

Horus fixed his cape, massaging his abdomen that was struck not more than a few seconds ago.

"Don't tell me…that you're the one that had been sneaking in?! All this time?!"

"My matters with her are my own, but she's been true when she swore that she had never met anyone before. I only became her…advisor, nothing more."

"So you advise me to call off this engagement?!" For what purpose?!"

"…I have no regard for the matter between you and her. I was even more glad to know that you were lucky enough to finally get wed, but I cannot look over when an injustice is perpetrated against an innocent. She never consented to any of this, and you were aware of that!"

Horus darted between Mortarion, his brother, and you. The way Mortarion was shielding you from him, avoiding his eyes to meet you, to let his authority catch you again, was a way to protect you without creating more conflict or erupting everything in a fight, one that neither of the two knew who could win.

Mortarion had always had a good spot inside for his brother, the only one that never looked down on him, that never pitied his story and his way of thinking, which made the thing harder than someone else could see.

"I really wish we could not clash iron today, brother, said Horus, raising his hand towards his brother. "Clearly, you had everything wrong…"

"Is it for the same respect I hold for you that I suggest you watch your tongue?" She had made her decision, and if someone won't help her, then I will."

"…So you're preferring to create a friction even between us?" For a baseline… A mortal?!"

Mortarion didn't respond; his toxic eyes never left his brother, not until he had left, leaving you alone with your mysterious friend.

When the silence started to get too much, you raised your hand towards the one that seemed to still be trying to protect you from some invisible blows, trying to touch it, trying to understand that everything that happened was actually happening. But before you could even feel his warmth, the hand was already gone, reaching to his face to adjust the mask. He was cooughing, silently, to hold the argument he almost stopped to control his own breath.

"…My… My lord… Are you...all right?"

He stopped, looking at you. That was the first time you addressed him like that, and somehow he felt a strange, bitter flavor on his tongue.

"Yes…I am fine…for now." He looked towards you, to your cheek that now had a small scratch ready to close up, a green color devouring your face like some kind of plague. He could have avoided…but he wasn't there, but still…

He took a few steps forward, looking towards the door that was left open by his brother.

"Things are going to get quite messy from now on for you… You should…." He stopped; he was closer to saying something about finding a place to stay, away from Horus, his sons, and absolutely far, far away from that wretch of your sister, but looking now, it wasn't the case…

"...I...should?" You continued, noticing his hesitation.

"…I can give you sanctuary. My legion will follow my order and respect that…of course, if you wish too."

Your eyes, he swore, seemed to shine like thousands of stars in one moment. He had never noticed how entrancing they were, how pure you looked.

Your lungs seemed to finally be able to breathe, your tone wasn't able to hide the happiness that this small, kind gesture had brought you, and your shoulders were trembling with joy.

"Y-yes…yes!"

He hummed, worried by how someone that looked so fragile and pure could accept the offering of staying in a place closer to him…. Well, you were never in the right mind, as a starter, and you didn't know anything about him or the Deathwatch. Still, it seemed the better option. He started to march up again, signaling you to follow him, not sure of what the future held for both of you now.

"Wait!" your voice called to him again. He waited for a rethinking, maybe a clarification or asking to at least bring something with you. Instead he met again those eyes, those orbs full of hope, of that potential, and of a gratitude that almost scared him.

"Thank you…"

"…You're welcome."

[w3ath3r-0f-sw34t3rz]

lyric of the day ˚♫⋆｡˚

"she's knitting pretty outfits on the sofa worried 'bout the fact she's getting older talk until she crashes on my shoulder May 3rd Waterman Avenue"

alice rhys

[fvsm4x]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (you) !

synopsis. Prince Satoru has just come of age, and it’s tradition in his kingdom for the crown prince to be presented with potential suitors. Despite his power and prestige, he’s lived a life of strict rules and sheltered isolation, knowing little about romance and even less about pleasure. His parents arrange for a tutor to guide him on how to properly fuck and pleasure a partner

+ warnings/content. Prince! Gojo S. + tutor fem! reader - satoru is a virgin and inexperienced - virginity lose - p in v - feral gojo a bit - royal au - gojo has a big dick - oral (fem. receiving) - fingering - size difference a bit - gojo is pussydrunk - shy/soft gojo

+ word count. 9.1k (Oppsie daisy)

a/n. This is prolly one of my favs works so I HOPE U LIKE IT

banner by unknown (tell me if u know from who it is!!)

The doors to Prince Satoru’s chambers loomed before you, tall and intricately carved, a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the palace. Your fingers hovered just above the handle, and you took a steadying breath, reminding yourself of the role you were about to step into. The position was an unusual one, to say the least—both highly honored and slightly scandalous, whispered about only behind closed doors and far from the ears of the public.

When the queen had summoned you, you’d expected to be given a task of courtly refinement—perhaps tutoring Prince Satoru in diplomacy or etiquette, something befitting his status. But the court had other plans. Prince Satoru was soon to come of age, and despite his immense power and status, he had led a remarkably sheltered life. Royal duty dictated that he was to be groomed for the throne, but there was more to kingship than formalities and court rituals. To make matters more complicated, it was tradition that the crown prince be well-versed in… more intimate knowledge.

And so, here you were—his tutor for this secret, delicate subject. The court deemed it crucial that Satoru gain a proper understanding of how to navigate romantic and physical intimacy, skills thought essential to his future rule. And though this education would be handled with the utmost discretion, the weight of it wasn’t lost on you. This was about more than teaching the young prince; it was about shaping the experiences that would prepare him for life, even if it meant starting with things he’d never before dared to touch

One of the royal guards gave you a nod, signaling that the prince awaited inside, and with that final reassurance, you pushed open the heavy doors.

The room was grand, adorned with tapestries of deep blue and golds, velvet curtains framing the windows to keep prying eyes out. Soft candlelight bathed the chamber, casting warm, flickering shadows that seemed to make the room feel smaller, more intimate. And there, in the midst of it all, stood Prince Satoru.

He looked as regal as ever, his white hair falling around his shoulders in soft waves that caught the light, yet his expression was tense, the lines of his jaw just slightly taut as he took in your arrival. He stood tall, shoulders straight, but there was a nervous energy about him, a flicker of uncertainty in his piercing blue eyes. For all his power, he was, in this moment, simply a young man facing something entirely foreign.

He looked almost hesitant, his fingers curling at his sides as he took a few tentative steps forward.

“Are you… the tutor?” he asked, his voice soft but clear.

You bowed, folding your hands in front of you. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m honored to serve you.”

He returned your bow with a slight nod, his gaze hesitant but unwavering. “Thank you for coming,” he replied, his voice quiet and just a little rough around the edges. After a pause, he continued, “And please— call me satoru.”

You blinked at him before replying,“of course, Satoru.“

He continued,“I understand you’re here to… teach me certain things

There was a vulnerability to his words, as if he were admitting some private, embarrassing truth, and you felt a flicker of sympathy. “Yes,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I’m here to help you learn at your own pace. We don’t have to rush anything. It’s perfectly normal to have questions, and we can take things one step at a time.”

He let out a breath, and a faint, almost sheepish smile flickered across his lips. “That’s… good to know,” he murmured. “To be honest, I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve read about some of it—romance, intimacy—but it always seemed… different in stories. Simpler. Or maybe more dramatic.” He paused, then quickly added, “But I have no practical experience. I don’t even know what’s expected of me.”

Was he really that inexperienced?

It was hard for you to believe. Prince Satoru was strikingly attractive, with an air of confidence that most people would expect from someone well-versed in such matters. Yet here he was, seeming genuinely lost. You’d have guessed he at least knew the basics—how to start, how to read a moment. But the way he looked at you, the way his questions hovered in the air with such uncertainty, made it clear that he truly knew next to nothing.

You nodded, taking in his words. “That’s perfectly alright,“

Satoru’s gaze flicked away, almost as if embarrassed by his own curiosity. “It’s strange. I’m supposed to lead a kingdom, yet I feel so… out of place when it comes to this.” His eyes returned to yours, vulnerable but resolute. “It feels almost… childish, not knowing these things.”

You smiled gently. “It’s not childish at all, satoru. You’ve been raised in a very particular way, with rules and responsibilities that few can understand. Besides, being inexperienced doesn’t make you any less capable.”

He studied you closely, his intense blue eyes absorbing your words, as if testing their weight before trusting them. There was a softening in his expression, a subtle shift from wary curiosity to a quiet resolve. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… where do I start? What do I need to know?”

Slowly, you stepped closer, letting him feel your presence before you closed the distance entirely. Your hand hovered in the air, close enough for him to notice, but not so close as to assume his permission. “May I?” you asked, your tone gentle but firm, a reassurance that he was in control of every moment.

He seemed caught off guard, his gaze briefly dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. There was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps a bit of nervous anticipation—but he nodded, his voice soft yet steady. “Of course.”

You reached forward, your fingers just grazing his hand, warm and slightly tense under your touch. Slowly, you guided his hand toward your waist, resting it there carefully. His fingers settled against you, his grip hesitant but steady. His hand was large, enveloping the curve of your waist, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the fabric, grounding both of you in this small, shared moment.

Satoru’s hand flexed, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft give of your waist. His touch was cautious, like he was still testing the sensation, and you could feel him catch his breath. His eyes flickered down, watching his own hand as if seeing it in this position was almost surreal. Then his gaze lifted to yours, his expression a mix of awe and a little self-consciousness, like he was realizing just how new all of this felt to him.

For a moment, time seemed to still, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers remained gently on your waist, his grip firm but careful. His eyes held yours, searching for something—maybe understanding, maybe comfort.

You felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you, his expression searching, as if trying to find reassurance or perhaps permission. His attention felt heavy, intense, and you could feel your cheeks warming, a faint blush creeping over you. You forced yourself to brush it aside, focusing on him, on the quiet yet clear connection between you.

Drawing a breath, you leaned in, rising onto your toes until your face was just inches from his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, your gaze lingering there for just a second too long, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers dug slightly into your waist, pulling you in closer with an unexpected urgency. Your breaths mingled in the narrow space between you before his lips met yours in a rush of movement.

The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, almost clumsy in its eagerness. His lips pressed hard against yours, his movements lacking the practiced finesse of experience but carrying a raw intensity that made up for it. He kissed you with an almost desperate enthusiasm, his lips parting messily against yours, the faint taste of his breath mingling with your own. There was a wetness to the kiss, his inexperience clear in the way he seemed to lose himself, following only instinct rather than skill. He kissed you with unabashed need, a little too much spit and an endearing awkwardness in the way his mouth moved against yours.

You could feel his inexperience, the way he struggled to find a rhythm, his lips and tongue a bit too eager, too messy. But there was a certain sweetness to it, a sincerity that made the kiss feel even more intimate. It was unrefined, almost childlike in its enthusiasm, yet it was deeply honest—a kiss from someone exploring a world he’d never known, trying to understand it one uncertain step at a time.

Slowly, you brought your hand up to his face, brushing your fingers along his jawline, gently guiding him to slow down. You felt his breathing hitch at the soft touch, and his lips stilled for a moment, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His gaze held a mixture of surprise and something more vulnerable—a spark of uncertainty, as though he was asking if he was doing things right.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered, your words a gentle reassurance. You could see the tension ease from his expression, the smallest hint of relief softening his gaze. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gave you a shy smile that felt so out of place on someone as commanding as him, yet so fitting in this moment.

With your guidance, he leaned in again, his movements now a bit more measured, a touch gentler. His lips met yours with newfound purpose, still a little messy, but now slower, as though savoring each second. This time, he lingered, allowing the kiss to unfold naturally, his lips brushing against yours with a sweet, unhurried warmth.

Your hands slid to rest on his shoulders, fingers tracing the lines of his frame, feeling the subtle tremor under his skin as he let himself fall into the moment. The kiss grew deeper, a quiet exploration, as though he were learning you, learning this intimacy he’d never experienced before. And in that moment, it felt like there was only the two of you—caught in this delicate exchange, each touch building a fragile new understanding.

After a long, breathless pause, he drew back, his expression softened yet still intense, eyes clouded with newfound desire. His lips, now slightly swollen from the kiss, parted as he looked at you, as if searching for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance. His hand remained at your waist, fingers tightening gently, grounding himself in the unfamiliar intimacy that had formed between you.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was harder, more confident than before, as though the hesitation had melted away. His hands slid down your waist, fingers tracing the shape of your body until they reached the back of your thighs. In one smooth movement, he lifted you, his strength evident as he held you firmly. A gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support as he carried you with ease.

Your back met the cool, solid surface of the wall, and you felt a rush of heat at the sudden closeness, the way his body pressed against yours, anchoring you there. His hands, still beneath your thighs, slid upward slightly, fingers grazing the curve of your ass before giving it a small, tentative squeeze. The unexpected boldness of the touch sent a spark through you, and your breath hitched, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

His lips found yours again, and he kissed you with a fervor that felt worlds away from the shyness he’d shown moments before. His mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, devouring each kiss, leaving no space between you. You felt the heat radiating from him, the rhythm of his breaths growing heavier as he pressed himself closer, as though wanting to close any lingering distance between you.

The contrast was dizzying—just moments ago, he’d been so cautious, uncertain in every touch, every glance. And now here he was, holding you in his arms, his kisses almost desperate as if he’d found something he didn’t want to let go of. You clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, grounding pressure of his hands keeping you anchored against him.

He kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that seemed to grow with each passing second. His fingers tightened on your ass, his grip steady and possessive, pressing you more firmly against the wall as though he wanted to keep you there, close, unmovable. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy, mirroring your own.

His mouth left yours only for a moment, his lips brushing along your jaw, trailing down to the curve of your neck. Each kiss was a mix of soft and hurried, as if he were savoring the taste of your skin but couldn’t quite hold back his growing desire. His breath was hot against your neck, and you felt a shiver run through you as his lips lingered there, taking his time to explore, to feel you.

The way he held you felt powerful yet tentative, as if he was discovering just what he could do, and it sent a thrill through you. You felt the tension in his hold, the slight tremble in his fingertips betraying a mix of nervous excitement and unrestrained want.

You whispered his name softly, and he stilled for a moment, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes, usually so confident and sharp, held a softness, a vulnerability that made your heart race. He seemed to study you, his gaze searching your face, as if he needed to see that you were still with him, still wanting this as much as he did.

“S’toru…” you murmured agaib, your voice barely a whisper, filled with all the unspoken reassurance and encouragement you could offer. He swallowed, his cheeks faintly flushed, and gave a small, hesitant smile, looking a little relieved, a little emboldened

With newfound determination, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours once more, this time slower, savoring the moment.

As Satoru’s kisses grew deeper and more assured, the intensity between you became undeniable, and you could feel his breathing growing heavier. His hands roamed along your thighs, fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and each touch seemed to carry a little more heat, a little more urgency.

Then, suddenly, you felt it—a subtle but unmistakable pressure against your stomach. His hips had shifted closer in his fervor, and now you could feel him pressing against you, hard and undeniable. The realization made a shiver run through you, and you felt your own face flush, heart pounding at the sudden intimacy of it.

Satoru froze for a moment, as if only now aware of the way his body was reacting. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and he swallowed, his breath catching as he struggled to pull himself back, an awkward smile tugging at his lips.

“I… didn’t mean…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed, his gaze dropping as though he didn’t quite know how to handle his own reactions.

But before he could pull away, you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his skin, letting him know it was okay. “It’s alright,” you whispered, voice soft and reassuring. “Do what you please.“

He looked at you, relief mingling with something deeper, a flicker of excitement shining in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a slower, more deliberate passion. As he deepened the kiss, his body pressed closer, and he stopped resisting the way his hips aligned with yours, letting himself feel the closeness without overthinking it.

Your hands slid over his shoulders, steadying yourself against him, feeling the strength in his frame as he held you, his body tense with barely restrained desire. The pressure against your stomach grew, a steady reminder of the effect you were having on him, and you could feel his hesitance melting away bit by bit. His kisses grew bolder, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, as though he didn’t want any distance left between you.

,S‘toru” you whispered against his lips, voice breathy and soft, and he drew in a shaky breath, his eyes heavy-lidded, as though he was barely keeping himself grounded. He was fighting to stay in control, to process the new sensations flooding through him, but he could hardly hold back.

“Feels s‘ good…” he murmured, his voice a low, shaky whisper. Slowly, his hips moved, pressing into you, creating a delicious friction as his hardness rubbed against you, even through the layers of clothing. The movement was tentative but grew more confident with each slow thrust, his breath hitching as he sank deeper into the feeling. His lips found the side of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, letting his lips map the curve of your skin.

A quiet whimper escaped you, unintentional yet undeniable, and he froze, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with that raw need, softened slightly, as if wanting to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. But when he heard the faint, breathy sound again as his lips brushed over the same spot, he seemed to realize just how much his touch affected you. A flicker of excitement flashed in his gaze, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time more deliberately, letting his tongue graze the sensitive skin.

You whimpered again, the sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it, and you brought a hand to your mouth, instinctively trying to muffle the sound. But he reached up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away with a gentle yet firm hold. His gaze held an intensity that made your heart skip.

“Wanna hear ‘em… your moans,” he muttered, his voice low, the words dripping with newfound confidence. He leaned in, his lips trailing back to your neck, and this time, his tongue traced slow, heated lines against your skin, savoring the way you shivered beneath his touch.

Each kiss, each brush of his lips, became bolder, more purposeful, as though he was learning exactly how to make you feel every single touch. His hips continued to press against you in slow, unhurried movements, creating a rhythm that sent sparks through your entire body.

His fingers, which had gripped your Thighs with a firm intensity, began to trail upward, brushing against the fabric of your shirt. With his breath warm against your skin, he paused, looking up at you for a moment, his gaze filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

His hand moved to the top button of your shirt, fingers slightly trembling as he hesitated. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching for any hint of uncertainty. When you gave him a soft nod, a silent reassurance, his face softened, and with that, he began to slowly undo the buttons, one by one, his gaze never leaving yours as though anchoring himself in the trust you shared.

His breath caught as he reached the last button, letting your shirt slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet.

His gaze dropped, and his eyes widened, filled with awe as he took in the sight of you. His hands, initially tentative, began to trace gentle patterns along your shoulders and collarbone, his touch warm and reverent. He seemed captivated, almost in disbelief, as his fingertips trailed downward, lingering at the curve of your breasts.

Satoru swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at you, his gaze both shy and filled with wonder. “You’re… so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. With a hesitant hand, he reached out, his palm gently covering the soft curve of your breast, his touch both tender and careful, as though you were something precious.

Leaning in, his lips brushed softly against your skin just above your heart, leaving a trail of warm, reverent kisses as he explored with growing confidence. His hand, which had rested at the curve of your breast, wandered over the full softness, squeezing with a tentative pressure that sent warmth flooding through you. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple, giving a small, instinctive pinch.

The sharp pleasure made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips, but you couldn’t help flinching at the unexpected intensity. “Not ser‘ hard… they’re sensitive,” you murmured, gently pulling his hand back. He froze, meeting your gaze with an apologetic expression, his face flushed even deeper.

“ sorry..” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice, but the look in his eyes was also filled with curiosity and need. Without a second thought, he lowered his head, bringing himself level with your chest, and his lips brushed over your sensitive skin in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Satoru’s lips wrapped around your nipple, his warm mouth enveloping the sensitive peak. He kissed it softly, savoring the taste of your skin, his tongue flicking out to tease you gently. The sensation sent electric currents racing through you, and you gasped, arching into him, encouraging him to continue.

As he continued to explore, he paused for a moment, pulling back slightly to look up at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I’m really sorry for being too rough,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Then, as if his apology extended beyond you and into your body, he turned his attention back to your nipple, planting a soft kiss on it. “You just look s‘ perfect,” he added, the words barely escaping his lips.

He resumed his gentle kisses, trailing his mouth over the delicate skin around your breast, still mindful of your sensitivity. Each kiss was filled with a newfound tenderness, as if he was not only trying to please you but also to make amends. “Please forgive me,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm, brushing over you like a gentle caress.

With each delicate kiss, he continued to express his reverence, kissing your nipple again softly as though it were a cherished treasure. “I promise to be better,” he vowed, his gaze intent, as if making a sacred promise to both you and your body. He lavished attention on your breast, his lips trailing kisses that were sweet and reverent, the gentle pressure of his mouth a stark contrast to the earlier clumsiness.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through you, not just from his touch but from his sincerity. “You’re doing just fine, you‘re just learning afterall.” you reassured him, your voice breathy and filled with affection.

His eyes lit up at your encouragement, and he dove back in, his lips returning to your nipple, kissing it with a newfound tenderness, allowing the moment to envelop you both.

from your breast to your collarbone and back again, savoring each reaction he drew from you. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, igniting a desire that only grew stronger.

But suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and determination. He gently wrapped his arms around you once ahain, lifting you with surprising strength.

He carried you effortlessly across the room, your heart racing as you held onto him, feeling the strength in his arms. The thrill of being so close to him, both physically and emotionally, sent a rush of warmth through you. As he approached the bed, he leaned down, carefully laying you onto the soft mattress, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once he set you down, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you stretched out before him. His heart raced in response to the intimacy of the moment, his breath hitching as he drank you in. “You’re really beautiful,” he whispered again, as if he couldn’t help but marvel at you.

Satoru leaned over you, propping himself up on his forearms, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and longing. His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, kissing you deeply as if trying to convey all the emotions swirling within him. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if memorizing every detail of you. You felt his weight resting against you, warm and safe, and it filled you with a sense of comfort and exhilaration.

As the kiss deepened, his hands wandered, fingers tracing along your sides and down your arms, drawing you into the warmth of the moment. He seemed to lose himself in you, his kisses growing more passionate, yet still tender, as if he were balancing the thrill of desire with a profound respect for the connection you were building together.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven, and looked down at you with an expression that held a perfect blend of desire and vulnerability. His eyes softened, and a flicker of concern appeared as he took in your face. “Are… are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with an almost shy uncertainty. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness in his tone, and you nodded, feeling a warm sense of safety in his presence. “I’m fine,” you murmured softly, reaching up to brush a reassuring hand along his arm. “I should be asking you that.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting yours before looking away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost as if he were still processing his own feelings. After a beat, he hesitated, then glanced back at you with a hint of nervous curiosity. “What should I do now?”

You sat up slightly, leaning forward so you could hold his gaze, though he quickly looked down, the blush deepening on his face. “Pull your clothes off,” you instructed softly, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “But leave your underwear on.”

Satoru’s eyes widened at your words, the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, almost as if he hadn’t quite expected the suggestion. “Yeah… okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he reached for the hem of his shirt, hesitating only briefly before he began to lift it.

His hands trembled ever so slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm, slightly flushed, and he kept his gaze averted, as if trying to gather the courage to keep going. He let the shirt fall to the floor, then took a deep breath before moving to undo his pants, casting a quick glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance.

When he saw your soft, encouraging expression, he continued, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them, leaving only his underwear as you’d requested. His movements were tentative, almost shy, but there was a certain determination in his actions that spoke of his trust in you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watched Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with his as he settled in beside you. His eyes lingered on you, filled with curiosity and an unmistakable nervousness, though he gave you a shy smile when you met his gaze.

With a reassuring nod, you began to reach down, fingers slipping to the waistband of your pants. His eyes followed your movements, captivated, as you slowly slid the fabric down your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. You kicked the pants aside, leaving you in only your underwear, mirroring him. His breath hitched as his gaze roamed over you, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable.

Now both in only your most vulnerable layers, you shifted back on the bed, motioning for him to come closer. Satoru followed, his movements tentative but filled with a certain eagerness, as though he was soaking in every detail of the moment.

He settled between your legs, his body hovering above yours as he propped himself up on his hands. His eyes were wide, sincere, holding a quiet wonder that made your heart flutter. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, drinking in the sight of you with a softness that was almost reverent.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His breaths were shallow, matching yours in rhythm, and a slight shiver ran through him at your touch. “Just take it slow,” you whispered, your voice soft, reassuring, as you leaned in close enough that your breaths mingled, faces only inches apart. “We don’t have to rush.”

He nodded, swallowing as his gaze remained locked with yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with gratitude and awe. Tentatively, he brought his hand to your waist, his fingers brushing over your skin with a gentleness that spoke of both caution and growing confidence. His touch was almost feather-light, his fingertips tracing small circles as though memorizing each curve and dip. You felt his hand tighten slightly, pulling you closer, grounding himself in the warmth of your body against his.

You leaned up, closing the space between you to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger there as you savored the warmth of his skin. Satoru’s eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, almost as if he were melting under your care.

When you pulled back just slightly, he turned his head to face you, his expression filled with an intense, tender gaze. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a brief moment, he hesitated, his lips parted as if caught between nervousness and longing. Finally, he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was both tender and exploratory, filled with a sweetness that made your heart race. He kissed you slowly, savoring every second, as though he wanted to remember this moment forever.

His hands began to wander from your waist to your hips, his fingers tracing along the curve where your underwear sat against your skin. He paused, his fingertips grazing along the line of fabric, hesitating, as if seeking permission. You could feel his hand trembling slightly, both from his excitement and his nerves, his fingers brushing over the skin just above the waistband before moving back down.

Satoru’s gaze was locked on yours, his eyes a mixture of wonder and nervousness as his hands continued their tentative exploration along the edge of your underwear. He seemed to be gathering courage, his fingers tracing gentle, almost reverent patterns across your skin. Your own hand covered his, a soft reminder, and you murmured, “You can take them off, y’know…”

He paused, visibly swallowing, his blush deepening. “Yes… yes, I know,” he replied, voice barely a whisper as he gathered the courage to slide the fabric down your hips. He moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring every second. When your underwear finally slipped from your legs, he let it fall from the bed, his gaze turning back to you with a new, unguarded vulnerability.

When he looked down, his gaze dipped between your legs as you spread them slightly, giving him space to take in the sight of you. He was visibly struck by the intimacy of the moment, a hint of awe flickering in his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, making you equally self-conscious and drawn to his quiet, genuine curiosity.

This wasn’t something you’d ever imagined doing, especially not as a tutor. The queen’s request had surprised you, and even as you’d agreed to guide him, you’d never anticipated how intense and meaningful this moment would feel. But with Satoru, there was a warmth and care that put you at ease—a softness in him that made you want to help him learn, to give him this experience.

Satoru’s breath was uneven as he drew his hands up your thighs, the warmth of his touch making your skin tingle. His thumbs moved slowly, pulling your legs apart just a little more, his touch almost reverent as he brushed his thumb against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. The sensation made you shiver, a small gasp escaping you.

His gaze never left yours as he brought his hands to your center, his fingers trembling slightly as he parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing your most sensitive area to the cool air. You let out a quiet gasp at the sensation, your breath catching as he focused on the glistening sight before him, his eyes filled with awe. He seemed mesmerized, watching the way your body reacted, the soft, pulsing invitation of your skin against his touch.

For a moment, he simply watched,

Satoru’s fingers trembled slightly as he held you open, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty. His gaze flickered to yours, a question forming on his lips. “I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do next,” he admitted softly, his cheeks flushed, looking for guidance as he tried to understand how to please you.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his, your touch steadying him. “It’s okay,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. “I can show you.”

He swallowed, nodding as he leaned in closer, visibly eager to learn. “Where should I start?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You held his gaze, feeling a sense of warmth at his openness. “See here?” you murmured, gently guiding his thumb to a small, sensitive spot at the apex of your folds. “This is the clit—it’s the most sensitive part, and it responds a lot to touch. You’ll want to start by focusing here.”

Satoru’s eyes lit with newfound understanding, his gaze turning to admiration as he looked down, processing your words carefully. His thumb brushed experimentally over the wet spot, his movements slow and cautious. You let out a soft, encouraging sigh, and he glanced up, his expression almost childlike in its intensity, clearly focused on learning how to make you feel good.

“So, you have to… prepare someone, right?” he asked, as if confirming his understanding. “Before anything else?”

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yes. You prepare a woman for… more,” you said, feeling a blush heat your cheeks. “Touching, kissing, and things like this—all of that helps get her ready, so it’s more comfortable. You have options, too. You could use your fingers, your mouth, or both… whatever feels natural for you.”

He seemed to absorb every word, nodding slowly, his brows furrowing with concentration. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the sensitive spot he’d just discovered.

Satoru leaned in, his thumb brushing over your clit again, this time with more confidence, his movements gentle yet focused. You let out a soft sound, and he paused, eyes widening in wonder. He glanced up at you, a small, satisfied smile forming on his lips as he realized he’d done something right.

He leaned in, closer than before, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, letting his lips linger, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he explored with a gentle touch. You could tell he was savoring every new sensation, every slight shift and soft sigh. With each kiss, he grew bolder, moving closer to your core, his hands still steady on your thighs as he continued his careful approach.

Then, his lips brushed over your folds, his breath hitching as he pressed a lingering, almost worshipful kiss there. “So soft,” he murmured, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than to you, awe evident in his voice. His mouth moved lower, placing another slow kiss before he began to taste you, his tongue moving hesitantly at first, as if familiarizing himself with each inch.

The first gentle stroke of his tongue made you gasp softly, and Satoru’s eyes flicked up, eager to see your reaction. Seeing the pleasure in your expression, he smiled, a slight, bashful grin, and leaned in further, letting his tongue explore with more confidence. The way he worked his mouth over you, savoring every taste, every sound you made, spoke to the intense curiosity and focus he was channeling into each motion.

“Fuck—” he whispered, his voice thick and slightly shaky, pulling back for a moment to catch his breath. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated as he looked at you with something close to worship. “Pussy’s s‘ sweet— tastes ser’ good,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving back in with a new kind of hunger.

His tongue found your clit this time, pressing gently before giving it a soft, experimental bite that sent a shock of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He continued, lapping at you with slow, broad strokes, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands slid up, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer as he kissed and licked every inch, fully lost in the experience.

He seemed completely intoxicated by your taste, by the way your body responded to him. Each movement of his mouth became more confident, more eager, as he continued his relentless exploration, his tongue swirling around your clit before lapping at your entrance again, catching every bit of wetness as if it were precious. Satoru was utterly lost in you, pressing closer and moaning softly into your skin, entirely absorbed in the pleasure he was bringing you.

His hand slipped back to your thigh, gently squeezing as his mouth worked in perfect rhythm

Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened as he became even more engrossed, his mouth moving over you with a hungry, eager rhythm. His eyes flickered up every so often, watching your reactions with an almost boyish awe as he learned exactly what made you gasp and arch into him. Each sound you made seemed to spur him on, fueling his growing confidence as his tongue moved with more purpose, more intent.

He let his tongue glide up from your entrance to your clit in slow, drawn-out strokes, savoring every taste, as though he couldn’t get enough. “Ser‘ good,” he murmured between breaths, his voice thick and heavy, almost reverent. “Can’t believe— fuck- how perfect ya taste.” His words were laced with genuine awe, and each syllable seemed to sink into you, heightening the warmth building deep in your core.

His lips wrapped around your clit then, and he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. You gasped, fingers tangling in his soft hair, tugging him closer as your hips moved instinctively toward him, urging him deeper. Satoru moaned softly at the feeling of your hands in his hair, the vibrations of his voice against you only adding to the sensation.

“Just like that,” you whispered, your voice shaky as he continued, his enthusiasm and care blending into a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. He responded by doubling down, his lips pressing more firmly, his tongue flicking and circling, as if every movement were a way to learn how to make you feel even better.

As he continued, Satoru looked up at you again, his gaze dark with desire yet softened with admiration. “You taste like… everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbled against you, his voice muffled, but full of devotion. He leaned in once more, mouth covering you completely, tongue moving in long, slow strokes, savoring every drop and every reaction.

He became almost methodical, his mouth working in steady, purposeful motions, alternating between licking and gentle sucking, pulling quiet moans from your lips with every movement. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as he continued his eager exploration, his mouth mapping every inch of you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, as his pace quickened and his movements became less restrained, you felt the growing heat build to a near breaking point. Your hips bucked against him, and he only gripped you tighter, pressing his mouth more firmly against you, tongue swirling and lips pressing as he pushed you right to the brink, lost in the need to give you everything he could.

Satoru’s eyes never left yours as he continued, his focus unwavering. Every gasp, every arch of your back seemed to spur him on, and as he watched you getting closer, a new determination filled his gaze. His hands slid up your inner thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin with a light touch before hesitating at your entrance. He glanced up, silently asking for permission, and at your encouraging nod, he took a deep breath, pressing a finger against your slick entrance.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his movements tentative as he watched your expression, making sure you were comfortable. His finger slid deeper, and he marveled at how warm and soft you felt, his gaze full of awe as he worked his finger gently, moving in time with the soft caresses of his mouth.

“Is… this okay?” he whispered, voice low and unsure, yet filled with genuine care. The gentle curve of his finger inside you was cautious, and when you let out a quiet moan in response, he seemed relieved, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, s‘toru,” you murmured, voice thick with desire, encouraging him to continue.

Emboldened, he began moving his finger slowly, curling it inside you as he searched for the spots that made you shiver. His mouth returned to your clit, tongue flicking in gentle, deliberate strokes, the combination of his movements creating a steady, delicious rhythm. Each motion was measured, his focus absolute as he seemed to get lost in the feel of you around him, the way your body responded to every touch.

As he gained confidence, he added another finger, stretching you just slightly, his gaze still attentive, looking for any hint of discomfort. But when he saw only pleasure in your expression, his movements grew a little bolder. His fingers curved and pressed deeper, brushing that sensitive spot within you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body that had you clinging to his shoulders.

“God, pussy‘s s‘… perfect,” he breathed against you, his tone filled with reverence, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His fingers pumped steadily, his mouth following their rhythm, drawing out soft moans that seemed to intoxicate him further.

Each gentle thrust of his fingers, each flick of his tongue was filled with growing intensity, a desire that seemed to drive him to bring you closer and closer to release. His face, now completely flushed, showed a newfound hunger as he became entirely engrossed in every moan

Your body tensed as Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing perfectly against that sensitive spot, his mouth still worshipping your clit with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure built rapidly, each movement of his fingers and every flick of his tongue intensifying the sensation until it became overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself teetering right on the edge. “Satoru… I’m close…” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with both determination and awe, as if he couldn’t believe he was the one bringing you to this point. Encouraged, he kept going, maintaining that steady pace, his fingers pumping and curling with just the right pressure, his mouth warm and relentless against your clit.

Your body arched, and the pleasure surged through you in a powerful wave. A gasp escaped your lips, turning into a cry of pure ecstasy as you reached your climax, your body trembling under his touch. Satoru didn’t stop, his fingers and mouth working you through every second, letting you ride out the pleasure fully, his gaze fixed on you, captivated by every reaction.

He slowed only as he felt your body begin to relax, his fingers gradually easing their rhythm until they finally stilled. His lips pressed one last, tender kiss against your clit before he withdrew his hand. You watched, breathless, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, savoring every taste as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Pussy’s so sweet,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of awe and raw need thickening his tone. His pupils were blown wide, his face covered in the remnants of your release, and he made no effort to hide his pleasure, licking his lips, his tongue tracing over the faint glisten left on his chin. “Want more…” he breathed, voice low and desperate, as if even this closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy the pull he felt toward you.

With a shuddering breath, he shifted, his hands moving to his briefs, and without hesitation, he slid them off, tossing them somewhere off the bed. He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a few slow, steady strokes, his own arousal now fully bared before you.

You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as you took him in. He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his arousal flushed with a deep, heated pink at the tip, beads of precum already forming and trailing down along the pale, veined length. The sight alone made you clench in anticipation, a mix of nerves and longing swirling within you.

Satoru looked down at you, his cheeks and chest flushed, the intensity in his eyes making him look almost dazed, drunk on the need coursing through him. “Can’t… can’t wait any longer—” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice. He leaned closer, his tip brushing against your clit in a teasing tap, smearing his precum around your entrance.

“Please,” he whispered, almost as if pleading. “Please… let me… I need to feel you. Need to be inside…”

You felt his desperation in every word, his restraint fraying with every second that passed. His gaze held yours, dark and pleading, and you gave him a soft nod, granting him the permission he so earnestly sought.

“Please…” he whispered again, positioning himself carefully, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he slowly began to press forward, inch by aching inch.

A shiver ran through Satoru as he began to sink into you, every inch he pressed forward met with a quiet gasp or soft sigh that only seemed to make him more desperate. He moved slowly, his gaze fixed on your face as if wanting to memorize every reaction. The stretch was intense, his thickness filling you in a way that had you curling your fingers into the sheets, and he took his time, his movements careful and deliberate as he entered you.

“God—” he whispered, a tremor in his voice as he tried to keep his control, his brows knitting together in concentration. His hands found your hips, gripping firmly but gently, anchoring himself as he slid further. He exhaled shakily, and his breathing turned ragged, his lips parting as he lost himself in the feeling. “Feels so good…*hic* better than I imagined—” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually inside you.

As soon as Satoru pressed fully inside you, he froze, his whole body tensing as if he’d been struck by lightning. The heat, the way your walls clung to him, warm and tight, had his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling back in pure, unfiltered bliss. A deep groan escaped his lips, raw and needy, and he gripped your hips so tightly you could feel the tremor in his fingers.

“Fuck—” he choked out, his voice thick, barely coherent, as he tried to process the overwhelming sensation. His head dropped forward, gaze dazed, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. “So… s’ fucking tight,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, his words catching as his hips gave an involuntary thrust. “God—you’re… clenching around me so perfectly—”

You felt his fingers digging into your hips as he rocked into you again, the motion instinctive, almost primal. His restraint shattered in an instant, and he began moving with a newfound hunger, his hips snapping against yours with an intensity that had his head spinning. Each thrust made his eyes flutter, his lips parting as he gasped for breath, his mind barely able to focus on anything but the sensation of you wrapped around him

He buried himself deeper, his pace turning relentless, desperate. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin as he panted, “Feel so fucking good, can’t—can’t stop…fuck!” He sounded wrecked, completely undone, his tone almost pleading as he kept moving, his rhythm wild and unrestrained.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back as he lost himself in the feeling, the pleasure flooding through him too intense to control. “Pussy’s so *hic* warm,” he slurred, his words muffled as his lips brushed over your skin, his hips pressing into you harder, needier, every sound you made only pushing him further. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, his breaths ragged, desperate as he surrendered completely, letting the sensation consume him.

Satoru’s movements became a frenzy, his hips snapping against yours with a desperation that was almost uncontrollable, his breathing erratic and voice reduced to hoarse groans. Every inch of you enveloped him in a warmth so tight that his composure shattered with each thrust, his hands gripping you as if afraid to let go.

“Fuck—can’t… can’t get enough,” he mumbled, his voice rough, eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you with a dazed, almost feral hunger. His mouth found yours, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss, messy and demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants as he looked at you, captivated, overwhelmed.

Your moans and gasps only fueled him, every sound you made seeming to push him further over the edge. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you even closer, his thrusts rough but filled with raw need. “You feel… so fucking perfect,” he murmured, barely able to get the words out as his rhythm grew erratic, his hips moving instinctively as he chased the building pleasure that was consuming him.

Lost in the sensation, his pace faltered, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. He pulled you tighter against him, his body shuddering with every thrust, his head falling to your shoulder as he let out a deep, broken groan, his voice strained and breathless.

“God… can’t… gonna come…soon” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and helplessness as he felt himself teetering on the edge, holding on only by a thread as he lost himself completely in the warmth of you.

With each thrust, Satoru’s body trembled, his breath hitching as he felt himself nearing that precipice. The warmth enveloping him tightened further, the way your walls pulsed around him driving him wild. His movements grew more frantic, instinct taking over as he chased the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Please—please..” he gasped, desperation lacing his words as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. He was lost, intoxicated by the feeling of being inside you, and it was as if everything else faded away. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, the heat pooling in your core intensifying with every movement. “S’toru… yes—yesss just like that,” you encouraged, your voice breathy as you matched his rhythm, pushing him closer to the edge. Your words seemed to ignite something primal within him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl, thrusting into you with abandon.

“Fuck—so good… you’re so good,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back again as he felt the pleasure building rapidly, tension coiling tightly in his belly. Every sound you made, every gasp and moan, drove him closer to madness. He could feel the pressure mounting, an almost unbearable intensity that threatened to consume him completely.

“I can’t hold back much longer,” he warned, his voice low and strained, nearly a whine as he fought against the overwhelming need to release. “I want to feel you—want you to feel me…”

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you completely, his body shaking as he let go, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Oh—fuck!” he cried out, his voice echoing with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief as he came, filling you with warmth. His body quaked with the intensity of his release, and in that moment, everything faded into pure bliss, leaving only the two of you tangled together, breathing heavily in the aftermath

As the waves of pleasure began to fade, Satoru’s breath came in uneven gasps, his eyes still glazed with the aftereffects of the ecstasy he’d just experienced. He looked down at you, the warmth of your bodies still mingling, and a sudden thought struck him—a spark of wild desire that seemed to take over his senses.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out with an urgency that surprised even him.

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammered, disbelief flickering across your face.

“I know it’s crazy since we just met, but… you’re just—so amazing, and I don’t wanna let you go! That was—” he hesitated, a dreamy look crossing his face as he recalled the sensations. “Your pussy’s s‘ good. I can’t just… I can’t just walk away from this. I don‘t want anyone else now..”

You let out a soft laugh, a mixture of incredulity and amusement bubbling up inside you at his unfiltered honesty. What is happening? you thought, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had brought you here. “You don’t even know my name!” you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t need to know,” he replied, leaning closer, his eyes half-lidded with that intoxicating mix of lust and affection. “I just know you’re incredible. It’s like—like fate or something. I want you to be mine, like— forever.”

His words, though impulsive, were laced with sincerity, and you could see the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as excitement radiated from him. This is insane, you thought, but there’s something so genuine about him. “You’re serious?” you asked, searching his eyes for any trace of jest, but the sincerity in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Dead serious,” he confirmed, his expression earnest but still slightly dazed, the effects of what had just transpired clearly clouding his thoughts. “I don’t want to waste any time… so, uh, what do you say?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying his nervousness despite the confident facade he tried to maintain.

Could this really be happening? you thought, your heart racing at the idea of such an impulsive commitment. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest at his unexpected proposal. “Alright, let’s see where this goes, Prince,” you replied teasingly, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “But you better be ready for more than just this.”

“Y-yeah! Totally!” he stuttered, his enthusiasm shining through the haze of lust. “I’m all in. Just… just tell me your name, and I promise to be the best husband ever.”

© fvsm4x : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[deikshen]

Shen Yuan is a young demon prince from a rather unimportant kingdom; actually, his kingdom and his race of humanoid demon-snakes are actually so unimportant and unimpressive that not even Emperor Luo Binghe had been interested in getting the lands, or control of the kingdom... Or any of the princes! Of course they are loyal to the Emperor and serve under him, but... Luo Binghe hadn't tried anything!! Not even once!!!

Not that Shen Yuan is offended, though, the Emperor's HUGE harem is a crazy thing... He doesn't really want to be there nor anything like that. But it can't be a little hurt in his pride that the kingdom he grew up in and adores is so uninteresting to someone like the Emperor.

However, the final straw comes when Luo Binghe marries an Eastern Bird Demon Princess. Yes, she may be pretty as a painted doll, but the Eastern Bird Demons have shitty behavior! They are less interesting than Demon Snakes, much more flattering and fragile, conflictive and above all hypocritical! They don't even have their own venom or are capable of hunting their own prey!! They were just tasteless birds with huge tits and wings that shouldn't allow them to fly because of their anatomical inaccuracy!

"If you're so upset with Junshang's marriage decisions, why don't you marry him?" his younger sister says one day, fed up with Shen Yuan's ramblings. And Shen Yuan thinks, well, it's not a bad idea. Even if his sister didn't mean it at all...

But Shen Yuan KNOWS that he really needs to get the Emperor's attention before he just walks up and says "we have to get married, Junshang, because I find it disrespectful for you to marry with all the boring demons in the realms except my type. Which just happens to be me and not my older brothers or younger sister. I'm the only one willing to fix this."

... No, he would be dead before he even said Junshang correctly. So Shen Yuan must... Conquer the Emperor's heart!

Well, considering the huge harem, it's not a difficult task apparently. He will only have to pay for some rumors and stories of how some wives got to that place, prepare lots of court gifts and organize a big engagement party. After all Shen Yuan is very persistent and, above all, patient. He will obtain the Emperor's hand in marriage, and prove that his kingdom is not some insignificant little thing that can't even get the Emperor's attention!!

...

And one day, Luo Binghe starts to be attacked with stranges gifts.

They arrive at his office by confused royal assistants. And those gifts are the rarest and most expensive ones: swords made of crystal bone of an abyssal creature of the rarest kind, flowers with letters which explain all the effects on the cultivation of mixed-blood creatures, venom from a mythical beast thought to be extinct that can be consumed and used as a spice in recipes (which was accompanied by long letters containing strange cooking recipes that Luo Binghe had never heard of, and a more personal letter claiming that it would keep the Emperor entertained, since his mysterious penpal had heard that he enjoyed cooking).

The gifts keep coming, but they get stranger and stranger each time.

Crowns and hair jewelry of reverse reef corals, hairbrushes of mythical blue jade? Handmade perfume floral and exquisite that gave him peace just by smelling it? The essence of a flower that a single drop mixed with dry powder would work as the longest lasting eye paint?

Even silver scales of some demon presented with rubies and diamonds in the embroidery of a... wedding robe??? Exactly being the emperor's measurements????

Someone is... courting Luo Binghe? With useful and exquisite gifts, letters full of excessive details of someone erudite and chaotic, all with that strange air of mystery and power behind it? The servants who leave the gifts are mysterious, pale-featured and somewhat serpentine; Luo Binghe finds it strange to think that this kingdom is behind all this. Why would they do this if after of all, is the kingdom from which his cousin comes? Why would a kingdom that Luo Binghe is already a blood ally with want to deepen an alliance?

But that doesn't take away the absolute surprise that Luo Binghe feels with every gift, the way that every day he wait for something, even if it is a detail, a flower, a letter, anything. Luo Binghe, the Emperor of the Three Realms... is being courted for the first time.

He had courted all of his wives effortlessly some and with ease others. They had, of course, exchanged gifts with him in addition to the pleasures of their company… but none had even attempted to return the courtship. Luo Binghe had never considered it an offense, of course; before being an Emperor, he was a nobody. Now that he was an Emperor, he was just taking from the world what was his.

Being courted was not something Luo Binghe had given much thought to. Now, however, he is being courted by some anonymous suitor seeking his attention, and Luo Binghe doesn't understand why or how the hell he no longer has his future spouse at his desk, probably leaning on it, so Luo Binghe can lavish his attentions to thanks for every detail.

If it was his turn to be the sweet maiden who is courted and pays with his body and attentions, at that moment, even if he doesn't know who the hell his suitor is, Luo Binghe is definitely very interested.

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

"I want that new money. Crisp money, Straight-from-the-mint money. Fresh money. Young money. Push against the tide~" New Money from the Great Gatsby.

Yan?Batfam x Neglected!F!Reader

Pt. 1

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, and esp @coldilikeit

You know I've never pegged myself as the type to be too careless and get hit by a truck, because I'm not, that truck rammed into me and I was on the sidewalk, so, if I wake up, I'm suing.

That's what I thought would happen if I woke up in my world. newsflash, and spoilers, I seemed to wake up in this cliche bat family story as the neglected girl. This is actually the story "I Stole the Loving Family of the Villainess."

We follow around a girl named Serena, a cute name, by the way. It fits her as the female lead. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West, and so on. She is adopted by the royal family, the Waynes.

And do you see this cute portrait with her in the middle brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, oh and how can I forget even the main bulter, and can you see that small blot of paint, if you squit a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint- that's me.

While I'm monologing this I'm PUSHING SERENA DOWN THE STAIRS.

You know you can't help but feel bad for me like I'm the legitimate daughter and I get nothing.

Yes, you hear this my bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. I'm the Villainess. If you guys spent less time fondling over the basic y/n of a female lead you realize how miserable [name] is as a character.

Her mom is too busy caring for her other siblings that she finds it too bothersome to deal with the least talented or least intelligent that goes for Alfred too because, in this story, we're royalty meaning more than one maid and butler, so why waste your time when you can have someone else do it.

Doesn't help that [name] has ears so she hears every mocking word that is uttered by her servants.

And of course, the main family does not give a pinky toe if she dies so that's so cool.

So [name] being a cliche Villainess is exactly stupid and untalented but all she wanted was her family's love and affection which is why she kept sabotaging Serena, which led her to her death.

Getting her memories suck, I mean my ego that was skyrocketing got hit with a pebble which is not a lot but that's because my ego is huge, this girl put herself down so much that I swear if her self-esteem was a rock she'd be crushed by now.

I mean the size of her self-esteem was so low it would be the opposite of my ego.

I mean how can it not be high? I'm rich, pretty, intelligent, and I've had diplomas in more than one field, Mary Sue? More like Barbie. I'm perfect, in more ways than one, except for relationships I've lacked in that department but I've never had one before so does that count? No.

Did I mention I was rich?

So anyway got her memories, it's so... tragic, but don't worry snookums because even in this life there's one defining trait that I still have, I'm rich. Okay, so not rich out of my pocket, I am a princess umkay, but I wasn't a woman in multiple men's fields for nothing.

Anyway back to the case in point, before I "woke" up [name] was having an impulse, her hands were itching to shove this one good orphaned girl that stole her place in the family, what timing do I have to come back right when [name] decided to take action on the impulse.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide they are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

"I-I don't know one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah- yes the struggles of a female lead the stuttering.

"[name] I can't believe you shoved Serena! This is-" Meet Palmola, my mother.

"So what?"

"Huh?" Palmola's eyes widened.

No in fact the whole family's eyes were in shock.

Since [name] would always make some batshit crazy excuse like the ghost of Grandpa pushed her or something. But why lie, I did shove her, for a good reason too.

"She walks so slow and sloppy, does she have any etiquette? I hope she would, with the amount of time she likes to spend with you Palmola. Fast, efficient, but proper. You did drill that into my head since I was young, didn't you? You even got mad when I did it wrong, is it so wrong I treat her like how I was treated?"

"Young lady-!"

"We'll discipline her later, Serena are you alright? Here take my arm sweetheart." Bruce let Serena wrap her arm around his.

The siblings paired up with each other, and Palmola took one of her son's arms. Leaving me with no one. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time I was left embarrassed. How annoying.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the family but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests that right she goes for the big brother and the little brother, originally I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change, the engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was, I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself.

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love, there was no victor as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families respectable titles, you can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, usually the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Never mind, that's a conversation for another day that I'll just forget.

Connor approaches me grabbing both my hands, attracting attention.

"[name] there's something I have to confess..."

"You're breaking off the engagement"

"I'm breaking- wait what?"

"You've found someone new, that has many competitors and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. But I'd like a downpayment of 10,000 gold and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-" I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed balcony you're wrong, I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling sister, like sure, that works.

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning." She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene as to not let him go I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum sister, we haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature""

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly, I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face, don't be an ass, we both knew Connor is in love with Serena and that me begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Life really is great.

"What about the scandal that would break out."

"Again, it would break out either way, now do me a favor and go back to your group they're staring at me and it's ruining the snack that I have on my plate."

She let out a deep breath before heading off.

Speaking of which I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly and I don't but whatever.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?"

"It's unfair once again he gets to have everything"

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looks up his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement, now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel but I just remembered how young he was he's around Damian's age and I'm about the same age as Serena so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain he was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway, aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest he's literally a minor, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier.

-

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have even status to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you seem to not care about this we're cutting you off of money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Have you any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring younger brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

"Palmola!" I retorted, bringing a tense atmosphere to occur.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin.

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act proper.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone draw my bath." I rolled my eyes.

I do not condone maid abuse, but what's the point of working here if you don't do your job? So firing is the only option.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different actually the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, he had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancelation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity, sometimes when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, like she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strange.

(What you're sticking up for yourself? That's criminally insane right there.)

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a wedgy at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce well who knows what he's thinking he just looks constipated like isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now? No, he's been busy and with all the duty of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. These things are nice.

I took [name]'s diary, so was not thinking, writing down her devious plans here, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

So I'll do us both a favor and burn it.

Tossed into the flame I could only stare at the burning journal.

Another burning pile.

I should sleep I have a lot of plans tomorrow, and only a few months till school starts.

With a flick of my wrist, the candles blew out and the doors shut.

One perk about this world is the powers.

(H2O just add water)

So instead of actually writing the next part for any other series of mine I decided to make a new writing idea 🌝, I'm also making others in my brain as we speak but we're going to keep them there until I finish at least one of my series.

Anyway did you like it?

I'm going back to work now (writing), *le sigh*.

Happy early Lunar New Year though, I'm manifesting a lot of red envelopes to myself and many others!

If there's anything too cringy, plot holey, or grammatically wrong, do inform me!

[kabuki-writes]

Aeternitas Nunc Est

chapter: 7 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Your wedding night with Emperor Geta.

warning(s): heavy smut warning | partially non consent | Geta being Geta | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Yes, i kinda back after it took me nearly an eternity before i was able to present this smut-heavy chapter. I am not super-experienced with writing smut, but i tried my best and hope you'll like it! :) Also big thanks to all the sweet beans, who sent me well-wishes over the last weeks!

word count: 2.8

You watched the lights of Rome in the dark veil of the night, which had layed itself upon the hills of the eternal city. The royal palace sat upon one of those sacred hills, watching over the gigantic capital of the growing Empire, just like the Greek believed that the Olymp watched over their lands. This palace here was not only the residence of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla anymore, it was your home now too. You'll never get back to your families home, to your parents. With this marriage now, you were no longer in the hands of your father, but became the property of Geta. He was able to do with you as he pleased, which included an order to kill you or your family in an instant. A sword that was over your head from the day that your father betrayed the Emperors - and somehow you needed to find a way for yourself in this dangerous situation now. No privilege would save you now, your mind and your wits were your only weapons left.

Empress. It still felt surreal that this was the way you were called now. The title felt heavy on your shoulders just as the golden tiara crown of Empress Poppea on your head, while you listened to the footsteps of your husband behind you, echoing on the clean marble floor of his personal chambers as he approached you. Just as it was tradition, he'd taken you away from the celebration at one point, so that you to were able to seal this bond off with the mandatory wedding night.

Geta's hand reached out to you, taking one of the strains of your hair between his fingers, while his eyes lingered on your form, your curves hugged by the fabric of your beautiful wedding dress. Even though the thought of simply ripping your gown off your body and taking you right here right now, was an urge in his mind, he knew quite well that he had to treat you different like he did with his concubines. He needed you to surrender yourself to him, so that he could shake off the feeling of desperation he had, when he thought of you. Geta wanted you as a whole, not just your body, but your mind as well - an Empress that served him and loved him like no one else did.

„You can hate me as much as you want now. It doesn't matter", he whispered, standing close to you so that you were able to feel his hot breath against your skin. "I could kill you and your family, everything is in my hands, depending on how you play your part." Your eyes went silently to him, but you were not backing off in any way. "Then why don't you do it right now, my Emperor? Kill me and we're done with it. This wedding celebration becomes nothing more than dust and ashes then."

It were those words in this very moment, when Geta understood that he wasn't able to get you through fear. It surprised him, his irritation clearly written on his face. No one ever dared to speak with him like this, no one ever defied him in any way and yet you did - without hesitation. And while it would usually anger him, somehow in your case, he found it intruiging. Yet it also reminded him about the fact that he didn't just married you because he was able to bind General Acacius to his and his brother's rule.

His hand reached out and he traced the details of your jawline, before he placed his thumb and index finger at your chin, the tall young man basically towering you as he stood right in front of your form.

"That would be too easy, don't you think? I just presented Rome its new Empress. But let me remind you of the fact that you're nothing without me now. When my brother and i fall, so do you, which is why your father should follow our hand instead of chasing a dream that is long forgotten."

His thumb slowly ran over your lips, touching them softly as if he couldn't wait to simply kiss them. You stood still, eyes locked with him, as if you waited for him to make the first move. Maybe he thought you were a sheep, something to easily pray on like all the other women he usually got with one snap of his fingers, but despite your situation, there was still pride in you - hope even. "My father serves no one but Rome", you answered, but suddenly Geta tightened the grip on your chin. "Then you should hope that his definition of Rome is right this time. But let us stop talking about him, shall we? This is our wedding night and we both waited enough."

With those words his hands went to the brooches that held your dress together. Even though your body tensed, you knew you couldn't do anything about him being the first man to lay hands on you as he was now your husband. His dark eyes lingered on you like a wolf ready to consume his prey, especially once your dress fell from your shoulders to the ground, revealing the beautiful curves of your body.

"From the very first day i saw you, i was sure that you were the incarnation of Venus...", he mumbled, while his pale fingers traced your collarbones, the curves of your now exposed breasts, down to your hip. He took his time with it, as if he was looking at a marble statue in front of him. "Perfection."

His words rang in your ears and although it was an honor to hear those words from the mouth of an Emperor, it felt different. Otherwise, you instantly thought about the fact that his attention, his desire for you could be something useful. And you should at least try to keep him pleased if you didn't want him to think back to your father's betrayal. So out of a sudden, your hands went up to cup his cheeks, while your eyes met his. For a second he even froze in place, surprised by your sudden action. From the day you knew that a marriage with Geta was inevitable, you had to befriend the thought of induldging into something you couldn't change in any way. It was better to adapt in order to survive, better do play your part in order to gain peace - and through this, you might find a way to change the course of history?

Maybe this idea in your mind fired your bravery as you swallowed your pride and placed your lips on his. It was almost a provocation, rather than a romantic form of showing your devotion. "I might not change so quickly into the woman you expect from me", you whispered against them, his lips curving up into a wide smirk, amused by your tone shift. "Why should i want this? I enjoy our little game way too much..."

His hands suddenly grabbed your neck at the sides as he hold you in place, forcing you into another kiss, a more intense one this time. He quickly broke your hesitation with a straight entry of his tongue into your mouth, invading it like a conquerer and pushing you into a dance. You couldn't step back, you couldn't turn your head away, his fingers, the cold metal of his rings, drilled themselves into the skin on your throat and neck, imprison you in this position. It felt like an eternity until he released his lips from yours, before he brought them to your ear. "If i'd wish to fuck a submissive servant, i simply fuck one of my concubines, or a slave. You however,...", he whispered with a devilish grin on his face, which sent shivers down your spine. "It brings me much more joy, when you fight me... although i know you'll come to the point of loving me soon enough. And i will wait for it".

He didn't waste any time as he grabbed your arms and pushed you down on the the four poster bed, which was prepared for you two. A sea of pillows and blankets under the sky of heavy velvet drapes. Geta pinned you down onto the mattress as he placed kisses all over your neck, marking you as his own by leaving dark bruises on your skin. His words weren't a lie, because every time you tried to push him away with the way your body moved, he only took it as a motivation to continue in an even more craving and demanding way. There was no reason for you to keep this up for long, as it was not changing anything. Slowly his one hand creeped between your legs before he touched your sancturary, which was never been owned by any man before. With a grin, he coated his fingers with the wetness on your entrance, as he felt how your body shivered under his touch. "So you are not devoted to me yet? Then why are you wet like the ocean down there?", Geta whispered teasingly into your ear, while he pushed two fingers into you, causing you to gasp.

In fact, Geta was no brute. He could come off as a cruel man, but he knew that you were untouched, so he took his time to enjoy your body, while also preparing you for what's to come. In a way, he didn't want to hurt you, even though it was hard for him to hold back. His lips found their way from your neck to your breasts, while he stimulated your clitoris slowly with his fingers. There was no doubt that Geta was experienced, no surprisingly given the horde of concubines he called his own. But none of those women ever gave him the same satisfaction as you did in this moment. The feeling of your soft, skin under his lips was electrifying for him, while he went down to place kisses on your chest and lick over one of your nipples before he teasingly bit it with his teeth.

You couldn't clench your teeth together forever, while you tried so desperately to resist. There was still a form of resistance in you, as you didn't want to surrender your body so easily to the touch of a man that had threatened your family and force you into marriage. But it got harder, when the first sounds of pleasure escaped your lips, which incited Geta to keep going. The way your nipples grew hard under the touch of his tongue and the sucking of his lips was a divine example for him how you would soon tear down your wall freely. Out of a sudden, he reached for your wrist and forced your hand to the hem of his robes. "Go on, take them off", his demanding whisper catched your ear and you couldn't explain why your body simply followed his orders. Maybe a twisted 'excitement' guided your hands as you shoved his toga off his shoulders, following his belt and his tunica, the heavy brocade fabrics falling down to the white marble grounds, before you were able to see his body for the very first time.

Geta was the embodiment of the dissolute Emperor, whose main role from his early childhood was to become the most powerful man in all of Rome. The days his father had forced him onto the battlefield where long over, he hated the mere thought of dirt, hard work and the smell of a camp of legionaries. His body was pale as if he'd never seen the sunlight, a reminder how priviledged the Emperor's truly were in difference to the rest of Rome. Even though he wasn't seen as a strong man, who could fight against a gladiator, his slender body was still decorated by light and defined muscles. All those parties, the drinking and whoring aside, Geta did care for his body out of the fear to end up ill like his damned father, who died pathetically in his bed. But the most present part for you now was Geta's hardened erection, ready to have his moment, pre-cum already glistening in the dim light of the oil lamps that surrounded you. Your heart pounded against your chest, almost as if it would rip out of your skin at any given moment - like a prey in front of a predator and yet you stared into his eyes in defiance.

Oh how he was turned on by this beautiful defiance in your eyes, the thinking that you will never surrender yourself to a God. It motivated him to turn those tables, to make you scream his name as he would fuck you to elysium. And with that in his mind, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down, bringing his body between your legs as he spreaded them. His hips blocking your possibility to push your legs together again. His face went down to your face, as he forced a hungry and predatory kiss onto your lips, your tongue fighting against his, before your suddenly bit his lip during the battle of dominance. Geta's head shot back, his dark eyes staring at you before a laugh escaped his lips again. "I have a pretty bold wife, so hesitant!"

"Call me your wife, but i will never love you!", you quickly hissed back, showing him the hate that had built up in your stomach with every second passing, but he didn't care at all. His grin spoke more than a thousand words. Without a warning, he slowly pushed himself into you. He could've simply thrust in you, not caring for your pain in any way which was hard to avoid when a woman lost her virginity. But it was softer than he inicially intended to be. You wanted to curse him, but all you were able to get out of your mouth, when you felt how the stinging pain got replaced with a different feeling, something more carnal, was a moan through your clenched teeth. Geta didn't need to hold himself back, the dark moan that came from his lips only mirrowed the pleasure he felt, when a tight cunt held his hardened cock. "I don't need your love, it'll come sooner or later. What i want now is your body, surrendered to me... and trust me, you will stop fighting me". With those words, the young Emperor began to thrust into you, starting with slow movements, while his one hand was still holding his position beside your head, the other was holding your wrists above your head to avoid any form of resistance.

Not that you could resist anyways, there was never a way out from the day your wedding got announced. Seeing his lust shimmering in his dark eyes, which were focused on your face, watching how you tried so desperately to not show him any form of pleasure, it felt like a torture. Geta knew what he did, he knew how to treat your body to get his desired reaction. And once he felt your resistance cracking down under the deep thrusts, while your bodies were starting to move in unison, he loosened the grip around your wrists. "I might've made a mistake... you're not so bold as you think you are", he groaned, before your eyes shut open and you grabbed his shoulders. Not bold enough... His voice haunted your head. You didn't surrender, maybe it was time to set new rules. With a devilish grin, he wrapped his arm around your hip and switched the positions with one movement. You found yourself on his lap, but one of your hand already found its way in his short gingerblonde hair, which you grabbed and pulled, before your hip moved against his. In this position, you were the one to look down on him, while he was able to easily hit your deepest core with his dick. "Now you got claws?", he whispered, but you didn't fall for his provocation and continued to ride him with a newly fired self-esteem, that even surprised him. But it wasn't as if he was able to think more about it in this very moment, when his fingers pressed into the skin of your ass, while he hold you down, the moment he shot his load in you. The semen that may carry an heir into your womb, a legacy Geta wished for himself - and not for his brother. A lineage that started from him and him alone. It was a good timing as your body 'surrendered' as well, your moan filling this room with your shared high, the only true implementation of a marriage.

Now you were truly his wife. Married to an Emperor. An Empress.

____________________________

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[evilminji]

O.O!!! :Dc wait a second.... Aquaman >.>

Good JOB Brain! That IS a good idea!

Don't know if YOU GUYS all know this? But Arthur? Son of a Lighthouse keeper and the Queen of Atlantis? THAT Arthur Curry aka. Orin? Has CONSIDERABLY enhanced durability. Like... *hit by a car* "ha. Cute." Enhanced.

It's because of the DEEP Sea water pressure he's built for.

I bring this up? Because the man is a legit BAMF. Absolutely TERRIFYING near any body of water. Dude has SUPER STRENGTH AND HYDROKINESIS. Not ONLY are YOU filled with water, but every street corner in the world has pipes! He is NEVER not armed.

That's not including the "yes I can ask a lobster to take your dick off" thing.

But most of all? He has the RAGE. The lifetime of injustice after injustice. His home under attack, his people suffering and regarded as LESS. The poison dumped into their air. Their lands taken, PRESUMED the property of land dwellers.

Treated as criminals and monsters should they DARE defend themselves.

Yet? He is a leader. A husband, father, mentor. The death of his child can not take from him that title. Nor years numb that pain. He strives to be good. Be wise. Live well.

Yet? There is once AGAIN fuckery in his ocean. Some "secret" lab. Poking at a swirling green portal. At the BOTTOM OF THE SEA. For God's sake, they DO REALIZE, you can't HIDE things from him down here, RIGHT?

It looks radioactive.

He refuses to have that so close to Atlantis.

Sends a notice up to the Watchtower, a call back to his Wife, and leads the gaurd team in. Painfully easy, really. Bog standard humans, caught off gaurd. Right until one of them does something... stupid.

He tries to blow the place. Destroy evidence. It would kill all of them. Which is not Arthur's main concern. No, what IS? Is that it would dump radioactive SOMETHING into the waters near Atlantis.

He dives forward. They struggle. A button is smashed and...

Their containment field drops.

They had been keeping it in a perfect vacuum.

Arthur is sucked in.

Watches, in free fall, as his men's faces turn to horror. As they desperately dive to follow him. Loyal. True. But ultimately too late. He curses himself as he loses sit of them. But forces himself to focus, twist, get his feet under him. His is in air, above LAND.

He hits HARD.

But not the ground like he had planned.

He's slamed, at an awkward, frantic, angle and knocked off course. His weight crashing down onto a scrawny slip of a boy, who weezes and struggles to get a proper grip. His arms not quite long enough to go all the way around his barrel of a chest.

He helps, by slinging an arm over his young savior.

Only then, does he notice, the tiny crown of ice and nebula, poking at a jaunty angle from the child's head.

Their landing would be rough, had Arthur not caught them, once he gets close enough to the ground. The young royal gasping for air, having clearly pushed his limits to get to Arthur in time. He hauls himself up. Not yet a man, but not as young as Arthur feared. His eyes glow.

"Hoooly SHIT. Are you okay?! I hit you really hard! I'm so, SO sorry! I panicked! And-"

Honestly? A little bruised. But nothings he's going to ADMIT too.

More concerning? The injuries.

There's a screech of tires turning sharp corners. Sirens getting closer. The young king whips around. Terror seeping onto his face. It gives Arthur an unobstructed view of pointed ears, softly glowing skin with star like freckles, and scars that creep up the child's neck. He does not like the picture being painted.

"We have to GO. Now. Please, I'll explain in a moment! But we have to go NOW!"

Really, REALLY does not like the picture. And he has WAYS of dealing with such things as this. But safety first. Prioritize the children. They go. He vows to get answers. And all around Amity? Certain individuals days are NUMBERED.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[invincibledc]

McDonald’s Drive Thru

Pair: Raccoon!Reader x Platonic!Robins au

AU: If Batman adopted all the batboys as when they were robins. The robins found, especially Damian, found y/n in a trash bin and adopted the hybrid as a sibling and now it’s chaotic with the raccoon. The robins are 8-12 years old.

Summary: when a toy car gets the hybrid an idea where to get food.

It’s a hot summer day, the Wayne brothers, the robins who exchange simple places during patrol as robins. The robins are relaxing in this faithful day, the yellow-orange sun beaming on the boys as they were in the back yard.

Dick, the oldest kid was doing cartwheels.

Tim, the second youngest who is admiring his big brother with big blue eyes, clapping and cheering.

Damian, the youngest of the brothers who’s playing fetch with Titus.

And you, a random raccoon hybrid child who they found randomly and got adopted to the family. But there’s one robin you’re close to. And that’s Jason. The second eldest.

Jason was reading to you, speaking in a soft tone. He knew you don’t know English phrases well as you let out a soft chirp. You were truly the youngest of them all. “And then the.. the hungry caterpillar ate the apple in one big gulp.” You lean your head into Jason’s shoulder, making him has his head on yours.

“The caterpillar is realllly hungry, chirpy.” You chirped as you place your small hand onto the caterpillar word of the book. “Ca-aaaa” trying to say the word, Jason’s eyes light up as he puts the book onto your lap.

“Yes! Cat-er-pil-lar.” He says slowly. “Cat….uh….pill… lar. Cara pillar!” Jason chuckled out loud. “You tried your best [nickname]!” He pets your head whilst you chirped, smiling wide showing your sharp canines.

Dick coming showing off his backflips, he then flips into air, perfecting the perfect landing in front of you and Jason. With a proud smile, he gives off a bow as Tim comes over with a smile. “That was amazing Dick!”

“I know right.” Dick turns to you, wanting also your approval.

“Cmon, say that your big brother is cool… say it…” he thought as he placed his hands onto his hips.

“Rich!” You pointed at him with a small yell.

Dick deflated at how you used his real name in your own way. After Damian said his full name in anger and out of petty, your small brain started to call him “rich”.

Jason hollers with Damian in the back coming with Titus, holding the big dog on a leash with a smug smile. Tim could only snicker behind his hand whilst Dick could only dramatically sigh louder.

“It’s not funny… you guys have to stop saying my full name in front of them.” Dick sits by you, petting your head. Letting out a chirp of appreciation, you take your head from Jason’s shoulder and put it on Dick’s shoulder.

Jason grabs his book back from your lap, the two young brothers then sat around like a circle. Just you and the boys as you play with Dick’s fingers.

“Well I’m bored.” Tim says with slight crossed arms, Damian nods as he pets Titus and then look at you who is just minding your own business. Dick and Jason were by your side like some kind of guards protecting the royal.

The boy couldn’t help but puff his cheeks, he wants to be a knight for you just like in those fantasy stories Jason reads him.

Moments later of just sitting in boredom, heat bouncing on the boy’s back even more before the beginning of this evening.

Your stomach soon started to growl, making your brothers get up and stare at you.

“Hungry?” In unison they all said as Titus barked and go inside to go alarm Alfred in his dog language that you’re hungry.

“Ah… ah..” rubbing your stomach with a frown, you guess that doing nothing really made you hungry. Although you would love some fruits with nuts or at least some crackers, you feel hungry for… some junk food.

Looking around, you seen a toy car that Bruce bought Jason for Christmas. Smiling mischievously, you got up and went over to it. Dick’s eyes widen as if he knew your little plan already.

“Ah ah! No! No!” Dick runs over to you with Jason and the other hot on his tail. You get in, checking the battery of this Giant 24v Big Kids Ride On Super Car XXL 180W Motor & Rubber Tires black car.

It’s ready. And you already know where to go. You buckled up, ready to step on the peddle. That was before Dick grabbed you up and Jason unbuckling you.

Tim and Damian push the car from you.

“Y/N! As your big brother, and as big brothers do protecting their siblings. You’re not getting in that car!” He points when finishing his last sentence at the car that’s being guarded by the younger brothers.

“Unfair! Unfair!” You chanted, stomping your feet with your ears flatten and your ringed grey tail going under between your legs.

Jason could only frown as Dick glares at you. “You can say ‘unfair’ all you want, but I’m putting my foot down.” When Dick was angry, he was angry. A glaring battle between you and the first robin, the second robin that is witnessing this puts a hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“Hey bro, why not just let them do it? We can just make sure they don’t get harmed.” Dick whips his head to glare at Jason. Jason stared back, not impressed by the glare. He’s seen worse than a boy that’s older than him stare him down like an angry mother.

Finally letting it go, seeing it was having no effect on him. Dick sighs and loosens up to look back at the raccoon child trying to get through two young robins to the sweet toy ride.

“I.. guess so.” Said hesitantly by the first Robin who goes over to the raccoon who’s trying to get through the younger brothers. Not even trying to use their claws on the two.

“Y/N.”

You turned towards dick with a glare, hissing at him which makes him flinch back before standing up straight.

“…What’s your plan?” Those words made you drop the hostility and smirk.

“Me. Know.”

And know you did as Dick screams trying to control the car while you were on Jason’s lap screaming with joy. The car rides into the road with cars zooming past and swerving. Jason held your waist tightly with a bright smile as Damian and Tim held onto each other tightly.

“WOOOHOOO!!” You yelled as the civilians around either moved around or scolded the boys and you for being reckless.

Dick started to swerve, making Jason hold you tighter, hiding his face into your back while you clapped chaotically. Tim screams, having Damian pushed him away for “blowing his ear drum”. Finally you guys stop a red stop sign due to yknow, following the law.

Each one of y’all has messy hair and different expressions from this crazy ride.

“I think I’m gonna -gag- hurl..” Tim covers his mouth as Damian scrunches his face. “Don’t barf next to me drake!” Dick let’s put a calming breath and fix his hair. “Is everyone alright?” Jason a lifts his face up, smiling wide as you kept clapping.

“Yeah, chirpy here is happy, so I am too.” Jason watched how your eyes light up. “Go! Reen!” You pointed at the green traffic light. Dick couldn’t help but chuckle and drive slowly this time. He was getting the use to driving, although he may like to drive a motorcycle one day.

This time the drive was calm, Tim was better as he glared at Damian who kept making small comments to him. You played with Jason’s fingers that were on your waist while the said boy was relaxing with his eyes closed. Feeling the wind through his red hair.

Dick hums a simple tune as he sees batburger and smiles. “Guys, how about we stop for some grub? Since Y/N is hungry.”

Immediately the boys nodded eagerly, you chirped as you stopped playing jason’s fingers and gave a thumbs up.

Dick smiles with a soft chuckle, pulling over to the drive thru. As he pulls up with the toy car, he leans on the door. A feminine voice calls from the intercom.

“Hello, welcome to Batburger! What can we get you?”

“What do you guys want?” Dick says as he turns to look at his siblings and the hybrid. Tim hums before nodding as he calculated his want of order. “The Bat-Mite meal, but I also want a Choco-Bat Milk.” Tim finished as Dick notes that, he turns to the green eyed boy who has his arms crossed.

“I don’t see why I have to say my order, you already know what I want, Richard.” Dick has an unimpressed face before telling the intercom for a Bat-Mite meal. Damian scoffs. Jason leans over dick to look as he points to the menu.

“The Batburger Delxue with the dark sprite.” Jason says with a smile as he turns to you who just stares at it. All the letters and words looked scrambled to you, you frowned, ears flattening whilst you looked at Jason who nods.

“Y/N will have the Bat-Mite meal,with the Robin nuggets. Bbq sauce and a small side of Dr. fries.” Dick could only stare at Jason before sighing. “It’s scary how well you know Y/N…” the red haired boy could only smirk. “That’s cause I’m their favorite.”

A harsh gasp was heard before Damian pulled jason’s head. “I am! You are not worthy of that placement!”

“WOAH WOAH!” Tim pulls the triggered boy away from Jason. Jason whips his head, wanting to throw hands, but he can’t risk to harm you so he just scoff and turns his head.

Dick nervously chuckles before looking at the menu. “I guess I’ll have the Batburger with just Dr. fries and ketchup packets.”

After the orders were made, they were told to pull up. But while pulling up, Tim says something that made everything stop.

“Wait.. we didn’t bring money.”

Dick slams on the break, almost flinging Damian out of the car before Tim pulled him down without looking.

“Shit.” Jason says, covering your ears while Dick gave him a slight glance. “Language.”

Now the boys looked at each other until you reached into your crazy hair and pulled out wads of money.

“Mon-mon!” Smiling proudly, the oldest gasped dramatically with Tim and Damian leaning over from the back to look.

“You been planned this!?” Tim exclaimed looking at your hands to see crumbled up bills of people you pickpocketed from the amount of swerving. But that’s just your little secret.

Jason takes the money from you and smirks, “Guess we’re eating good boys.” Dick begins to drive to the window, snatching the money from the red haired boy and giving it to a shocked employee who didn’t expect the sons is Bruce Wayne.. and some random raccoon looking kid who’s tail is swaying happily.

She grabs the money without any questions and give them their orders. Dick checked each bag to make sure the orders were correct before giving his siblings each of their meals.

“And what do we say?” Dick looked at his brothers before turning to the nice young lady.

“Thank you!!!!” Said in unison by the other brothers.

“Tha! Tha!” You said as you started to eat your nuggets. One of the people in the back recorded this moment with adoration in her eyes. “Aww this is so cute!!!”

Dick drives off with you guys eating, Damian looks into his bag, smiling happily that maybe he would get a Batman toy in his meal. As Tim finished his meal quickly and started to drink his chocolate milk, he sees Damian’s face dropped at seeing a joker figurine.

“MOTHERFUCK—”

“Language!”

[no-144444]

A Christmas Prince (2017)- c.leclerc

₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

summary: When a young aspiring journalist is sent abroad to cover a a coronation, she hears rumours about the 'Prince of F1' and goes undercover to investigate them.

pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem! reader

9.8k words

disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

You jumped up from your desk as soon as you saw him, and trailed him through the office. “Excuse me, sorry- Ron?!” 

He turned to you. “Not now.”

“This will just take a second, I just have some questions about your article? The fashion week piece that I’m editing?”

He groaned, clearly uninterested in giving you the time of day. “Go for it.”

Nevertheless, you continued on. How could someone who makes so many noticeable mistakes have a higher job than you? How could someone so self-centred and rude be in that position of power? “The main problem is that Max wanted 300 words, and you’ve written 600, and also the models and designers you quoted weren’t even at the event so…”

“Y/n,” he sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t have time for you right now, just go off and fix it? Yeah?” he smiled, that punchable, asshole smile, and walked off. You rolled your eyes. 

Working as a journalist bitch was not your plan when you moved to New York, but alas, your rent does not magically pay itself. Categorically, you enjoyed your job. Decent pay, good co-workers (minus asshole Ron), and it was pretty cool to be in one of the high-rise offices of New York, especially around Christmas. But… the whole getting to write articles part wasn’t something you got to do. You were an editor now, not a journalist. It was… slightly infuriating to know that someone less qualified got paid more money to write shit that you always ended up rewriting for him, but as we mentioned before, bills don’t pay themselves. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to completely rewrite the article and save his ass?” Damon, your best friend, asked. 

You faked a smile. “It’s almost like that’s my job!”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell him to shove it,” he scoffed. “Any of us could write that better- with our eyes closed!”

You groaned as you sat down.

“How the fuck are you ever going to be taken seriously as a real journalist if you are such a good editor?” he added. “He’ll never promote you if you’re always going to stay as his bitch.”

The ding of your laptop ended the conversation 

Max wants you in her office- NOW! 

“Oh fuck,” you said under your breath. 

“What?” Damon asked, looking over your shoulder. “Oh… good luck.”

You walked into her glass office, praying to something to make this as painless as possible. “If this is because of Ron’s article-”

“It’s not, sit down. I have something else for you,” she smiled. You followed her instructions and stared at her, unused to the kindness. “What do you know about the Royal Family of Monaco?”

“Monaco?” you wracked your brain. “The King died a few years ago, the new King just got married, and the other two are racecar drivers, right?”

“Exactly, anything about the second eldest Prince?” she mused. 

You grimaced. “He’s more loyal to Ferrari than his girlfriends and he’s a royal disgrace?”

She grinned. “Yes! Exactly that! Obviously, Charles moved off from the royal duties a long time ago, but Lorenzo has decided to abdicate since his fiance has fallen ill, in Monaco there’s a rule that the throne can be uncrowned for one year and it turns out Lorenzo abdicated in December last year.”

“So Charles has to take the throne?” you asked. “But he’s a driver there’s no way he’d… what happens then?”

She smirked. “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out! His Royal Highness is due back at the Castle this weekend, but in case he also abdicates, I need someone to write on it! There’s a press conference on the 18th, and I want your boots on the ground!”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why me?” you smiled, genuinely curious. 

“You’re intelligent, talented, hungry for a story- also none of my regular writers are willing to give up their Christmas,” she admitted. You nodded, knowing you were a last resort. 

“Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.” 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“He’s gorgeous!” Damon fawned over the pictures of him. 

You shrugged. “He’s such a douche, I cannot believe people still find him attractive after all the stuff he’s done.”

“Who wouldn't forgive a face and body like that?” 

You looked at the photos. Yes, he was conventionally attractive, but his track record of scorned girlfriends, and the semi-awful fashion sense (who , over the age of 12, still wears tie dye jeans?) put you off. “He’s not my type.” 

He stared at you. “He’s everyone’s type. Everyone is a Ferrari fan, and everyone is a Charles LeClerc fan.”

“I still don’t see it,” you shrugged. 

“You should try to seduce him! Make him your husband and just excuse all the cheating so you can be royal and rich,” he suggested. 

“I do not want that,” you scoffed. “Plus, I’m not on the market right now.”  

He groaned. “You two broke up a whole year ago. Don’t let him yuck your yum 12 months on!”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You walked into Rudy’s, your dad’s diner, you couldn’t but feel the weight of the conversation you were just about to have. You had spent Christmas as just the two of you every year since your mom had passed, you didn’t want to just leave him alone. The regulars raved about the pies as you stepped in from the cold, snowy air. 

“The usual?” your dad asked, you nodded and smiled, waving to some of the regulars you knew. “How are you doing sweetie?” 

“Good, great!” You smiled, plastering on your best ‘i’m fine!’ face. 

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. You deflated.

“I have good news and bad news,” you explained.

“Bad news first,” he decided. 

“I won’t be here on Christmas- but, It’s because I got my first story.”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “That’s amazing! Your first real story! This is your big break!”

“You don’t mind that I’ll miss Christmas?”

He shook his head. “This is your big break, take it. Don’t worry about me. You go over to wherever, and you make me proud.”

You smiled, pulling him into another hug, and thanked him. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The flight was long and uncomfortable, thus the joys of economy, and the dickhead that stole your cab wasn’t much nicer either. 

You and the rest of the press were all then bundled into cars and brought to the palace. 

“First time?” The reporter beside you questioned. You nodded your head, slightly embarrassed about the fact that they could tell, but he just chuckled. “Word to the wise, pick a new career.”

The rest of the car was an eruption of laughter, small agreements, or a scoff. You chuckled along, but you couldn’t help but feel small. You were the only woman in your car, the only new reporter, and-

Woah. Holy shit. 

The Monaco Palace. 

Any and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as you stared in awe at the beautiful structure. The wide windows and beautiful pillars, all decorated perfectly for Christmas. Though it wasn’t snowing (like back home), you did appreciate the gesture of making it feel like Christmas. You were enchanted by the palace, it stood tall on the edge of the bay, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the gorgeous scenery. 

You walked in behind the rest of the press, a nervous energy buzzing in the air. Prince Charles was an F1 favourite, a master of the sport, and now he had to give it all up for the crown. Everyone was more than excited to see if he’d actually show up, which seemed increasingly unlikely as the moments ticked away. He did every single piece of press Ferrari or the FIA asked him to do, and he seemed to enjoy the majority of them, but the second the palace asked him to do something, he was ‘too busy’. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You were exactly a patriot, but you thought that one should at least appreciate the fact that they were a part of their country, and the people deserved to hear from their Prince, not only through sports interviews. He’d been photoshopped into the palace's Christmas cards for the past 4 years, for god’s sake. 

You pushed your opinion of him to the side and turned your attention to the palace. The tall white walls and arched ceilings, the beautiful and historic artwork hanging off the walls, god, you’d give anything to be allowed free reign in here with your camera. Your attention was then grabbed by the PR liaison, Penelope, standing at the panel desk looking increasingly nervous.

After another 30 minutes of waiting, the repress started getting restless. Lorenzo was never late. Hervé had never been late. Pascale was never late. Arthur was never late. Charles was the outlier. He slept with too many women, drank too much, and ‘disgraced the crown’, according to the Monegasque reporters beside you. You didn’t care much for all of the gossip pages he frequented, and only watched F1 on the occasion that your father wanted to watch it. But, it was clear that he thought that following his dreams of being a racecar driver were more important than his duties, and while you understood the push and pull of having a dream, there were also expectations to meet, and he didn’t meet them. 

“We regret to inform you that this press conference has been cancelled-” 

She was cut off by about 200 reporters shouting and groaning. 

You politely raised your hand, and all eyes turned to you. “When can we expect the press conference to be rescheduled?” You asked and the room was alive again, this time, in agreement. 

“As of right now, we won’t be rescheduling,” she offered a polite smile as everyone collectively groaned again. 

“Well can we at least expect a date at which he’ll be crowned?”

“He will be crowned on Christmas Eve, at the annual Christmas Ball,” she smiled. 

“Which is a private event, so what are we to tell your people? They can’t see him getting crowned as their next king? No media are allowed in, no cameras, phones are barely allowed. What will your people think?” you questioned, your voice dripping with condescension. The rest of the reporters cheered you on, no one had stood up against his behaviour before. No one. 

She faltered, and then the room started being cleared by security, much to the chagrin of the rest of you. You were kicked out, a collection of grumbles and groans, knowing Christmas was ruined because of some stupid Prince and his childish antics. 

You couldn’t go home empty handed. You’d never get a chance like this again, so breaking and entering into the Monaco Palace wasn’t that bad of a crime, right? 

You came into a long hallway, the marble walls and floors taking your full attention, until you came across a picture. It was the royal family, a picture of the five of them, taken before Hervé passed. Charles was only 20, Arthur was only 16. Lorenzo was 29. And they lost their father. In the photo, they’re sitting at a dinner table, looking happy. It didn’t look posed, or professionally taken. It looked like it had been taken on an iphone. Charles was smiling bright, his arm around his little brother and his father. Lorenzo’s arm around Pascale as she held Arthur’s hand. Charles was truly the thing that dragged you in. His bright smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, laughing so hard he must’ve felt sick. The way everyone else’s eyes were on him. He was like a magnet. Not because of his good looks or lovably dorky personality, but because of something else. He was just… interesting. 

“Can I help you?” a security guard asked, his voice booming and strong. You jumped. 

“Gosh! Sorry, umm-yes-no-um-”

“American?” he asked, and you were sure you were busted. But then he smiled. “Follow me.”

You followed him through the halls until you were in front of a tall woman with brunette hair. You knew who she was, her name was Georgia, the palace coordinator. She was terrifying to stand in front of. You’d never felt so judged in your life. 

“You’re the new tutor?” she questioned. You just nodded. “I thought you couldn’t come until January?”

“My last job finished up early,” you lied. A sinking pit in your stomach started growing, but you just swallowed it. You’d deal with it later. 

“Oh,” she smiled. “Perfect, I’ll bring you to meet him,” she smiled. 

What were you getting yourself into?

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Turns out Arthur LeClerc needed a tutor to help with his engineering course. Thank god you’d dated that engineer who wanted to mansplain every single part of a car to you, and you could get by the maths with a calculator. Arthur wasn’t exactly a fan of having someone younger than him tutor him, he felt stupid, you could tell. You did everything you could to reassure him that it truly was alright to need help, and he was starting to come around, but every time you two really started talking, Charles would appear. And yes, Charles had been that asshole who’d taken your cab at the airport. Even more of a reason to hate him.

“Arthur!” Charles called up as you finished explaining a sum, which he was finally getting, but of course, Charles had to distract him. “Sim work?” he offered, popping his head in the door. You frowned. He was clean-shaven, unlike the small goatee and mustache he’d been sporting before. Objectively, he was attractive either way, but you personally preferred the facial hair. 

He frowned back at you. “What?”

Arthur attempted to get up to join his brother, but you held him down to his seat with a hand on his shoulder. He sighed. 

“What?” you repeated. “Arthur is busy with lessons, your Royal Highness, you can come back in 2 hours, when he’s finished,” you smile politely, though your tone was less than warm. 

“2 hours?” Arthur sighed, looking at you with pleading eyes. 

“I’m not the one who failed their midterm,” you said, matter-of-factly. He nodded, agreeing. 

“Why did you look at me like that?” Charles smirked, walking into the study. 

“Like what?” you asked, engrossed in the work, trying to decipher Arthur’s handwriting. 

“Like you didn’t like what you saw,” he mused. 

You scoffed. “I was just surprised by the baby face, that’s all.” 

He frowned, making Arthur laugh. “Baby face?”

“You look like a 12 year old boy without facial hair, it freaks me out,” you pointed out. 

Charles left the room with whatever dignity he still had intact, and you and Arthur rather enjoyed the teasing. 

“Will you be my guest tonight?” he turned to you, discarding his work. 

“What’s tonight?” you asked. 

“Some boring drinks and dinner thing with the whole of Charles’s team, and other nobility. It’s going to be such a chore to go without you, please come?” 

You smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You kind of hated the whole ‘double agent’ thing. You were getting on really well with Arthur, Charles was enough to stomach (in small intervals), and Lorenzo had been too busy to really meet. Georgia had been on you about different things, but you always had to remember that a) your name was in fact not Y/n, but Martha. And b) You still had to be a reporter. You still had to break into these people’s privacy, and make it a story. You were pretty sure what you were doing was illegal in America, so you were just hoping it wasn’t a crime here. As the night went on you snapped pictures of Pascale, Lorenzo, some of the other nobility and some of the important F1 drivers (a friend was doing an expose on one of them for cheating so… yeah). You didn’t catch a glimpse of his Royal (pain-in-the-ass) Highness all night, that was, until he made an(uncharacteristically (not)) late arrival. You also left Arthur to go hang out with his girlfriend, who had surprised him this weekend by arriving a whole week early. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Arthur smiled, walking up behind you as you tried to take photos of the nobility as secretly as possible. You quickly hid your phone. 

“Very much so, thank you for inviting me,” you smiled. 

“Staring at Charles?” he questioned, noticing how you’d been following him around the room. 

“Trying to find something to eat,” you lied. Again, that pit in your stomach grew every single day that you were at the palace. “Not a fan of the meat-jelly.”

He grimaced. “Me neither, follow me.”

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Possibly the best gingerbread cookies entered your mouth soon after. “Wow,” you nodded, and he smiled back. You stared at him. “Where’s Jade?”

“She’s off with her friends,” he answered, but you knew it was a guess. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You hated me three days ago,” you chuckled. 

“You’re not like everyone here,” he shrugged. “You’re normal.”

You smiled. “I know I’m, normal, btu so are you-”

“A ‘normal’ 24 year old who has a palace and a crown, as well as an affinity for racing cars. I’m so normal.”

You laughed. “No one’s perfect.”

Then a tall man, who looked a little bit like Arthur, joined you. 

“Cousin Arthur,” he smiled. 

“Cousin Simon,” he sighed, less than impressed with having to see him. 

Simon looked at you, slightly confused. “Was your mother feeling charitable, inviting the chambermaids again?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny. Arthur didn't laugh, he groaned. 

“She’s my tutor, actually. And I invited her. Mrs. Martha Whelan, meet my cousin, Simon.” 

You stood up and held your hand out to be shook, but he shied away. “Nice to meet you Simon.” 

“You can address me as Lord Dukesburg,” he explained, taking great offence. Ah, this was Simon Dukesburg, the man who has been after the throne since Arhtur’s father died. He said some of the most out-of-touch shit about Lorenzo, saying he couldn’t be the King because he wasn’t Herve’s blood-related son. 

“I find that nobility who require someone to use their title might be compensating for something,” Charles interjected, making you stifle a laugh, whereas Arthur laughed out loud. 

“And what might I be compensating for?” he scoffed. 

“I wonder,” Charles smirked. Then someone else interjected the conversation and pulled the both of them away from you and Arthur. 

“Simon hates Charles,” Arthur explained. “He’s ahead of him in the succession, since it goes by age, not actual blood relation, he’s ahead of me.”

“So if Charles abdicates, Simon has the throne?” you questioned. 

Arthur nodded. You looked up at the two men again, and found Charles already looking back at you. You offered a small smile, which was returned, then you turned back to Arthur. 

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“I'm really not sure there’s any dirt here,” you sighed, explaining it for the millionth time to your boss. 

She wasn’t having it. You ended the call feeling even worse than before. Honestly, you were one day away from just leaving the palace all together and admitting your crimes. It was eating you up inside, you could barely sleep, barely eat. It was all a little bit too much for you. You understood that reporters had to be cut-throat, but god, it was hard work pretending to be someone you weren't, especially to people as kind as the LeClerc’s. As you walked through the halls of the palace, unable to sleep, you heard some piano music. You followed the sound and found Prince Charles at his piano, incredibly talented. Sadly, it ended the second he noticed you, about 30 seconds of you being there. 

“Sorry for interrupting, your Royal Highness,, I’ll head back-”

“Call me Charles,” he smiled. 

Slightly blind-sided, you weren’t sure what to say. “That was beautiful,” you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, getting up. “My father made me take lessons. It’s a great passion of mine.”

“I’ve heard your father was a great man,” you smiled. 

“He was,” Charles agreed.. 

“Won’t be easy to replace him,” you mused, hoping he would give you something, anything worth writing the story over. 

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he explained. “No one could.”

“Oh god! No, I didn’t mean it like that- just… there must be a lot of pressure on you, I didn’t mean it…” you trailed off and he smiled. 

“Well, you’re under more pressure than you bargained for, right?” he smirked. 

Shit. He knew. Somehow. He knew. You were bout to get arrested by the fucking Prince of Monaco. How embarrassing. 

“My brother can really be a handful,” he chuckled. 

You took a deep breath. He didn’t know. You were safe, for now at least. You chuckled. “He’s actually pretty great.”

“After our father died, he took it very hard,” he explained. 

“I lost my mom, same age and everything,” you explained, a flat smile on your face. 

He nodded. “So you know what it’s like then.”

You nodded. “Holidays are the worst.”

“I’m glad he has someone to talk to.”

“So, now that you’re back… is it for good? Arthur talks about you all the time. He misses you when you’re gone. Is all that talk about abdication just… rumors?” you questioned, feeling like the worst human being in the world for manipulating this family the way you were. They were good people. Maybe yes, they’re rich and commit tax fraud, but good people. 

He sighed. “It’s very hard to know what to do.”

FUCK! 

Great. So there is a story. Ideal. It’s not like if he’d just said, ‘yes, they’re all just rumors’, you could’ve gone home and never had to think about the awful things you’ve done here, but now you have to stay, to listen to him. Great.

“I heard you didn’t want to give your… lifestyle,” you asked. “Is that true?”

“What lifestyle is that?” he scoffed, slightly amused.

“I don’t know. The women, wine, and cars?” 

“Is that what you think I am?” he chuckled. 

“I don’t know who you are, Charles, but if your brother is any indication, I wouldn’t exactly believe everything I read. Good night.” 

And with that you left the room, feeling like a terrible person, and he was more than intrigued by you. 

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Christmas Eve rolled closer and closer, and every night seemed to be one of celebration. You decorated the tree with the family (aka you sat in the corner not eating or drinking because of the guilt, and watched over Arthur, making sure he was alright). 

“To family and friends,” Pascale smiled. 

“And new friends!” Arthur called, lifting your hand. You smiled at him, thankful that you had a friend there. 

“What are your traditions Martha?” Charles asked, turning attention to you. 

“Well, my father and I light a candle and we bake my mothers favourite cookies,” you explained, a smile on your face. “I know how it feels to… have someone missing during traditions,” you assured Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Just then, Lady Sophia appeared in the doorway. Lady Sophia, Charles’s childhood best friend and the leading lady of the greatest will-they-won’t-they story of all time. She wore a beautiful long flowing gown with a present in hand for Pascale. She elegantly dodged cousin Simon’s advances (you applauded her for that), and went straight to Pascale and Charles. 

“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you,” she smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“It’s lovely to see you too,” she smiled, then moved on to Charles. “Charles, good to see you.”

Charles greeted her with his best flirty smirk, and Arthur turned to you, fake gagging, which made you both laugh. All eyes turned to the two of you for a moment, before you quickly shut up, and the greetings continued. Lady Sophia was staying for Christmas, how wonderful. Maybe you could get an early access to their engagement story- god you felt sick with yourself. 

You turned to Arthur engrossed in the small toy car he had in his hands, a gift from his father, he spoke about it as you listened, barely noticing Charles over both of your shoulders. 

“I remember when you first got that,” he chuckled, ruffling Arthur’s hair. “You were so happy with it, you wanted to be just like dad.”

“Now you are,” you smiled, squeezing Arthur;’s hand. He’d be moving up to F1 next year, in a Haas seat (Esetban Ocon shit the bed, oops), and Arthur was the next best Ferrari junior driver. Arthur beamed back at you, and Charles gave himself a moment to study you. 

You were so gentle, so smart, so kind, so… you. He was entranced by you. You were some sort of enigma. He didn’t want to sound full of himself, but women did throw themselves at him, it was a simple fact, and you didn’t. You weren’t interested in him at all, in fact. It was refreshing. 

“Charles!” Lady Sophie called. “Will you put my ornament on the tree?” 

He (begrudgingly) took his eyes off of you and joined her at the side of the tree. Funnily enough, her ornament was a heart. 

“Be gentle with it,” she told him, and he sighed, knowing it wasn’t just the ornament she was talking about.He placed it on the ree and when he looked back at you, you were already engrossed in conversation with Arthur about something else and he thought it best not to pry. You barely liked him as is, he shouldn’t push his luck. 

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The day you get bossed around by Arthur LeCerc may actually be the biggest joke of your life. He found out that you were a journalist, and he didn’t even care. He just… wanted a friend, and for you to write the truth about his brother. Which you were happy to oblige. 

So, instead of going over aerodynamics, you baked Christmas cookies. 

“What’s with Charles and Lady Sophia?” you questioned, shovelling some of the batter into your mouth. Arthur shrugged. 

“She’s had a crush on him for ages, but he’s never liked her back,” he shrugged, eating some of the icing. “She’s always trying to get with him though.” 

“Simon seems to like her,” you pointed out, shooing him away from the icing (he’d eaten half of it). 

Arthur groaned. “Simon has wanted everything Charles has had since they were 3. He even tried go-karting. He was shit though,” he chuckled. “But y’know, everyone wants what we have.”

You cracked a smile. “You are the royal family of one of the most beautiful countries in Europe.”

Arthur sighed. “It was different though, before my dad died, it was-” he cut himself off, trying to to cry. You pulled him into a hug. 

“He’s not gone Arthur, you’ll always remember him,” you smiled, he nodded against your neck. “Come on, we need to get these in the oven before I eat all of the batter.”

He laughed, joining you beside the oven. 

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The next morning was the children’s fundraiser, where everyone was expected to be a guest. You, again, were Arthur’s, Jade having left a few days earlier to spend time with her family. One of those asshole reporters came up to you, but he got them away, and you knew that by tomorrow, people would already assume you were his new girlfriend, or something along those lines, so you made sure to tell him to talk about Jade in interviews. After the wonderful carol service, Pascale came out to the stage and addressed the public, announcing Charles’s speech. 

When she called his name, he didn’t show. 

Arthur sighed, grabbing your hand and running you to the Orphanage. There he was, playing with the children. He looked so… happy. He was telling them about every corner in the Monaco Grand Prix, and telling them what it felt like to win it. They all sat around him, listening intently, desperate to hear from him. You took out your phone and took a photo, seeing a tiny glimpse of that same 20 year old boy from the picture.  

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“Charles, help me understand why you were unable to carry out your duty today?” Pascale asked, exasperated with her son. 

“I thought my duty was to those children,” his words bit through the tension in the air. 

“There is much more to being kind than simply compassion,” she sighed. “You need to be strong, a leader. You need to be someone that those people can look up to and say, ‘that’s my king, and he can make the hard decisions’. Not someone who tiptoes around his duties like a schoolboy. Arthur had to give your speech instead. Now every outlet thinks your abdicating and giving the throne to him right when he’s on the cusp of his dreams-”

“I have dreams!” he shouted. “I have a life, I have a dream-”

“And we gave you 8 years to make it happen. You have to grow up now Charles,” she commanded. 

“Mother I-”

“Do you seriously think you’re the only one who wants to run away?” she questioned. “The only one who has dreams, and feelings, and a weariness about everything?”

“I’m-”

“This has been the hardest year of my life,” she choked up. “Lorenzo abdicating, you off in god-knows-where racing a car that can’t win, and Arthur trying his damndest to make his dreams come true, while I deal with it all. While I ‘hold down the fort’. You have a duty to your country, but you also have a duty to your family, Charles. I have complete faith in you, and then some. You will be a brave, and compassionate King. But you need to realise that sacrifice is a part of life. One we may have shielded you from, and I am sorry for that. But you need to make a sacrifice here. Royal life isn’t the prison you make it out to be. You can be happy, and you will be. But you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got, because you have so much Charles. You have your family, you’ll meet someone nice and then you’ll have your own. You don’t need to race cars to feel strong. You need to be yourself. The people of Monaco are looking for someone they know after a year of confusion and shock. You need to be the comforting voice. I know you can be.” 

“I’m trying,” he whispered. 

“I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Don’t try to be your father, be Charles. He’s just as wonderful.”

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Arthur wasn’t going to focus, it was 3 days till Christmas, and he was kind of like an over-excited child. You suggested an adventure, and that is how you ended up racing speed boats with Arthur and a few of his friends. You two won, of course, and he may or may not have accidentally shoved you overboard and made you hit your head. But you were probably fine. Probably. You two relaxed on the water for a while, enjoying the Monaco sun asn the sun began to set and all of his friends went home. 

Then you felt something hit into the edge of your boat. Another speedboat. Driven by none other than Prince Charles. 

“Race you?” he smirked at his brother, his eyes then landing on you. He stopped, almost doing a double take when he saw you in your swimsuit, his mouth opening slightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did and he rolled his eyes, hoping against hope that Charles and his master-manipulating ways would pass you by and go onto the next person.

“You’re on!” Arthur shouted back, reeving up the engine, and thus the great race of speedboats began. Sadly, once again, Arthur LeClerc is very much not coordinated, so he shoved you off the boat, again. Charles immediately slowed down, turning back to grab you, but he found you laughing. He reached a hand in, and pulled you up onto his boat, grabbing your waist when you almost slipped and fell. You were close, much too close. You could feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring into yours, the look of shock, but neither one of you was asking to stop. It was different, a good difference. He was right there, right in front of you, and you didn’t look at him with annoyance, or anger, or distance. One of those fleeting moments of the both of you truly just being yourselves. Well, you were Marha and he was the Prince of Monaco, soon to be King. He saw every freckle on your face, every small wrinkle line, every flutter of your eyelashes. He loved it. He loved being this close to you. He loved the way you were smiling at him, and once he’d started looking at your lips, he couldn’t stop. 

Arthur threw a snorkel at the two of you, making you jump apart, you almost falling off the boat again (actually your fault that time), but you just fell into Arthur’s boat. “No fraternising with the enemy!”

And the race was back on.

Unbeknownst to you, Lady Sophia and Duke Arsehole (aka Cousin Simoin), were riding by on a perfectly sublime boat ride, and saw the three of you enjoying yourselves. You had joined Charles' side, winning against Arthur every time, and then you’d be swapped back, or Arthur would swap. 

Lady Sophia didn’t like it one bit. 

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When you got back to the palace, Lorenzo was standing at the top step of the stairs, his mother beside him. 

“Where have you three been?” he demanded. 

“Lorenzo, we were-” Charles began.

“Speedboat racing in the bay?” he finished.  

The three of you stood there, silent and still, unsure of what to do next. 

“I suggest next time that you ask permission, Ms. Whelan,” he addressed you, and you nodded quickly offering multiple apologies. “And next time, maybe include the other members of the family. It’s not like we've never raced in our lives,” he smiled, before walking off. You had a feeling they hadn’t seen Arthur this happy in a long time. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in you, that you had been the one to help him get himself back. 

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Arthur was busy with his duties, so you were given the day off, the day before Christmas Eve. You needed to get to know Charles better, so you could right all the wrongs online about him. He was going for a bike ride, so you followed suit, clearly forgetting about the fact that you knew nothing about Monaco, and the limited cell-service was really helpful. Oh, and when you fell off your bike and cut the shit out of your knee, you really wondered whether it was you or Arthur who was clumsy. 

“Are you alright?”a voice called out, a voice you couldn't quite place, until Charles was in front of you and taking a look at your knee. “This looks bad, come with me.”

He helped you up, and while Mont Agel was beautiful, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere, what was he going to do? 

Bring you to his secret cabin, of course. 

Literally, was this dude James Bond? 

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You sat outside on his patio as the sun set. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him. 

“So, now that you’re alright,” he smiled (he’d bandaged up your leg despite the thousands of times you assured him you were fine). “Why were you following me?”

You sighed. “I was curious about Monaco, and I didn’t want to bother you,” lie after lie after lie. You were continuously sick. Maybe that other reporter was right, maybe you did need a new career. 

“You couldn’t bother me,” he assured you, an easy smile on his lips. 

“So what is… this?” you asked, gesturing to the house. “James Bond hideout or?

He laughed. “No, nothing interesting like that. This is just my house,” he smiled. 

“So you’ve lived in Monaco the entire time?” you asked. 

“The Palace is a bit too much for me at times,” he explained. “So I come here.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled. “Why do you find the Palace too much?”

He sighed. “Everyone is always looking at me.”

“Everyone is away looking at you in F1 too, you have like, millions of fan-girls,” you giggled. 

“That’s different,” he argued. “I’m a driver there, that’s talent and hard work, I was just… handed the throne.”

“You were born into it,” you corrected him. “And just because you came across something easily doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. I mean yes, it’s a lot of responsibility, but why wouldn’t you want to be King of Monaco?” 

“Do we have to talk about this?” he sighed, getting up and pacing the patio. 

“It might be good for you to talk it through,” you told him. 

“I can’t even go for dinner with my friends without it being an international scandal!” he groaned. 

“Like, when you went out with Sophia?” you mused. 

“That was different, she sold a story to a tabloid, and the media had a field day,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair. 

“The media is what’s holding you back?” you questioned, feeling your stomach twist. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Explain it then,” you smiled gently. 

He looked at you for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, you could see that boy from the picture again. The magnetic, messy, smiley boy his parents had adored. The boy who worked so hard to prove himself. Then those walls went right back up and what replaced him was the man; older, wiser, and hurt. “Why bother? You probably think I’m just a spoiled rich kid anyway.”

You scoffed. “I never said that!” you argued, getting up and turning to him. “You know what you need to do, stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of you, or how they’re going to perceive you. You’re a good person, with good instincts, and despite being actual nobility, you have morals, good ones, the kind that makes you miss a speech because you’re helping children. The kind that makes you worry about your little brother so much that you come home when he asks you to. The kind that makes you kind. Stop trying to be your father Charles, just be, Charles.” 

He sighed, standing beside you. “You make that sound so simple,” he scoffed. 

“Why isn't it? You’re a smart, talented, caring person-”

“Except when I steal your taxi,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes. He paused for a moment, his eyes shining in the low light of the sun. “I want to show you something.”

You stared at him, grimacing slightly. “What is it?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He led you through his house, up to a room filled with books. 

“You read?”

“After my father died,” he explained. “We kept some of the overflow of his habit here. He also kept his journals here. I found a poem, it was dated just before he died, I think he was going to give it to my mother.”

Frost a sparkle in the fields, 

Twixt the frozen minarets, 

Winter’s harvest, wager yields, 

Heavy burden’s, the years debts, 

P[out from a seed, an acorn’s gift, 

Henceforth the truth will flood, 

Darkness such a secret bears, 

A love far greater than blood.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, reading the poem. Charles’s eyes were on you. You were so close, just like on the bat, just like he wished for every single day since you’d come into his life. He leaned in and you didn’t back away. You didn’t run, or lean in either, you were still, your eyes trained on his lips.

Then your phone rang, and off you went to find it. Part of him wanted to grab you back and kiss you, but even he, in his delirious love-filled haze, knew the moment had passed, and he would just have to wait until the next one. 

As you two were getting ready to go back to the palace, he left to go grab something from his room. His father’s desk took your attention, and you obliged yourself. Hidden in plain sight was a secret drawer with a stack of documents in it. As much as you hated yourself for it, you took the documents back to the palace with you. 

Within those documents you found out a truth, a truth so great, you had no idea what to say. Charles and Arthur were adopted as children. 

What the fuck were you going to do now?

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As you were walking through the halls with Arthur the next day, you saw Lady Sophia and Charles… kissing. Great, barf. Anyways. You had to finish your story, get something on the page, make this torment of a trip worth something. If you broke the story today, you could be out of there before Christmas, and their lives would be a lot easier. You thought about coming clean, but the thought of it actually made you vomit in your mouth. You were lost. You had no idea what to do. 

So, you called your dad. What else were you supposed to do?

“Y/n!” he smiled, it was only a phone call but you could tell. “How are you?”

“Hey dad, remember how you said I have to take chances to win?” you asked.

“They are my words to live by,” he chuckled, understanding that something was going on. “Is everything alright?”

“What if that chance is going to really hurt people who don’t deserve it?” you questioned.

“I’m going to need more than that sweetheart,” he sighed. 

“My story, if I release it, it might hurt someone who’s already been through a lot. I’m just…” you trailed off

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about the world of publishing and reporting, but I do know that you have to trust your gut.”

You smiled. “Thanks dad.”

“I’m better than a fortune cookie, right?” he joked and you both chuckled. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

“Bye dad-” as you hung up the phone, there was a knock on your door. You tentatively got up and opened the door, only to find Charles on the other side, dressed in a Ferrari branded suit, a small smile on his face. 

“Hi, is there something I can do for you?” you asked, slightly awkward and unsure. You didn’t really want him to look in your room too much, considering the documents of his adoption were literally on your desk, but alas, what would be, would be. 

“I thought we could go for a walk?” he offered. “I can actually show you around Monaco, now that I know you want a tour guide.”

Your smile faltered. “I don’t know,” you sighed. The media had been stirring everything up ever since the boat, you were the ‘mystery girl’ being passed around by the LeClerc’s, and it didn’t feel great. 

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I would like some company.”

“Sure, let me grab my coat,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As you two walked through the streets of Monaco, he spoke freely about the beautiful buildings and people he knew so well, while you listened. You liked it, but it broke your heart slightly, to know that you had lied to the entire family for weeks now. But another part of you was grateful that you got to meet them, because you knew you had been changed for the better. It was also nice to see Charles be less… upset than when you first came. He smiled more, laughed more, and spent more time with Arthur, it was lovely to see. 

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at the pavement. “Are you alright?”

“Do you often take the help for a walk?” you questioned, your tone soft but the words bit at him anyway. 

“What?” he questioned.

“Nothing, it’s stupid. Go back to your story Charles,” you sighed, walking on. 

He grabbed your hand, turning you back to him. “Please talk to me. I feel like you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“What would Lady Sophia say if she saw us walking together?” you scoffed. 

“Why would that matter?” 

“I saw you two,” you said.

“Whatever you saw, trust me, there is nothing there,” he pleaded. 

“It didn’t look like that to me,” you scoffed. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“She was just… taking her chance again, even after I explicitly told her not to.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Charles.”

You were both silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to study your face. The way your eyebrows creased, the tightness of your lips, the determined stare forward. He smiled. You were so smart, and headstrong, and right all the time (which kind of drove him crazy), but he loved it all. He loved you. 

“I hope you’ll come tomorrow night,” he admitted. You looked at him confused. “The Ball. My coronation.” 

You couldn’t do it anymore. You had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living this lie, and neither could you. “Charles, I need to tell you something-”

But he kissed you. Of course, he fucking kissed you, because he’d been wanting to do it since the day you arrived at the palace. He was in love with you, if he hadn't made that obvious enough, and yes, he kissed you, because the fact that he hadn’t yet was driving him mad. He didn’t want Sophia, he didn’t want anyone else, he wanted you. 

And it was everything he could’ve dreamed of. His arms circled your waist, pulling you close to him, while his lips explored your soft ones, the taste of cherry on them. You must use some sort of cherry lip balm, and it quickly became one of his favourite tastes. Your arms slowly crept up to wrap around his neck, and when he pulled back you just pulled him back in. 

This was the real Charles. The one who loved people unabashedly and didn’t care what people thought. This was that 20 year old boy in the photo. This was the boy you had slowly fallen in love with, without even realising it. 

And it was wonderful. 

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Much to your chagrin, while you were off tonguing the next King of Monaco, Lady Sophia and Cousin Arsehole were busy looking through your things. Unluckily for you, they found something.

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Charles sat in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari, half willing himself to man-up, and the other half begging himself to turn around. He couldn't though, not when he was this close to finally visiting his father’s resting place for the first time in months. 

He got up and out of the car, your voice in his head telling him to get over himself, with that soft, perfect, smile on your lips. 

He walked up to the grave, determined to speak to his father once again. 

“I’ll take the crown,” he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’ll never measure up to you, but I will take it. For you and for mom.”

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You stood in your room, wondering what the fuck one wears to a coronation. 

Arthur stood in the doorway, smiling brightly. He frowned when he saw your dress. 

“It’s this or pyjamas,” you dead-panned. He walked in, taking the dress out of your hands and sitting on your bed. 

“How’s the story coming along?” he asked. “Nearly done?”

“Almost,” you huffed, laying beside him. 

He sighed. “I’ll miss you when you go,” he admitted, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You almost forgot how much he’d been through, his sunny demeanour always seemed to make you forget his troubles.  “It was nice to have a friend.”

You turned to him. “I’ll always be your friend,” you smiled. “And I’ll be cheering you on in Haas, and in everything else you do. I think you’re brilliant Arthur, seriously.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I hope everything goes well for you back in New York.”

 “I hope so too,” you teased, wiping a tear off his cheek. 

“I got you something,” he smiled cheekily, handing over a small box. 

“Arthur!” you scolded. “We said no gifts!”

“There was no way I was following that,” he chuckled. “Open it!”

You slowly opened the box, inside there was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful blue topaz on the end. “Oh my god Arthur, this is beautiful,” you whispered. 

“To remind you of the boat day” he grinned. “So you will never forget me.”

You smiled, your eyes cloudy with unshed tears. “I could never forget you, Arthur.” 

Then in walked Jade, his girlfriend, with an array of gowns on a rack. 

“Oh no,” you whispered. 

“Oh yes!” Arthur cheered. 

It was going to be a long afternoon. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You stood at the top of the steps, terrified of what anyone would say. Arthur had styled you (aka, Jade let him pick the dress) and while you thought you looked beautiful, you were slightly worried about what the nobility in the room would think. It had been fun though, an afternoon of being pampered and becoming friends with Jade was a lot more enjoyable than it was nerve-wracking. You slowly descended the steps, looking for Arthur, when Charles caught your eye. He looked beautiful, his hair perfectly styled, his suit perfect, his face perfect. He smiled up at you, excusing himself from his mother and brother to take your hand as you left the bottom step. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, taking in your dress. IN all honesty, there wasn’t a word for how he thought you looked. Regularly, a look from you made his heart stop. This? A different level. He was enamoured. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “Thank you,” you smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I will see you in there, alright? I have to-”

“Do what you need to Charles,” you chuckled. “I’m not running away at midnight.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Despite the fact that it was a royal ball, it was quite entertaining. Different Duke’s and Duchess’s were dancing, letting loose, and getting pretty drunk, but you just sat with Arthur and Jade and laughed at them. The ballroom was magnificent, the tall ceilings and Christmas lights all around, and in the centre of the hall there was a 36 foot (yes, about the height of a telephone pole) Christmas tree, decorated perfectly. Even though you were miles and miles away from home, it was still nice to be celebrating with people you love. 

As you were speaking to Jade, someone started speaking. 

“Might I have the first dance, mon amour?” Charles asked, barely above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

You turned to him, your face dropping. “Seriously?”

“Well, as long as you promise not to tread on my feet, we should be alright,” he chuckled, leading you to the dance floor. You joined on, doing a simple waltz (you thanked your father mentally for making you take ballroom classes as a child), and it was very sweet. It was nice to be so open about being close to each other, no longer shying away from each other's affections. You liked having Charles so close. He liked having you in his arms. 

Win-win. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said as you waltzed around the hall. “I wouldn’t be accepting the crown if it wasn’t for you, so thank you for telling me to grow up.”

You chuckled. “I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”

He shrugged. “I do not think so,” he smiled. “You make me feel comfortable, you’re the most genuine person I have met since… well probably since birth.”

Again, that nauseating feeling in your stomach urged you to run away and hide from him, even though your heart (as mad as it sounds) longed to never let him go. “I have to tell you something.”

He nodded. “You can talk to me about anything.”

As he spoke, the music stopped, and it was time. He would be crowned King. 

“Tell me after,” he whispered, as all eyes went to him. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“I dispute this claim!” Lady Sophia’s voice shocked the room and you. Charles was so close, so close to taking his rightful seat as the King, and of course, someone had to make it difficult. 

“On what grounds?” the Archbishop asked.

“The grounds that he is in fact, not the rightful heir,” she smirked, smug as ever. “Prince Charles, and his brother Arthur, were in fact adopted by the late King Hervé and our Queen Pascale, therefore are not of the blood of the Royal family, as per this document.”

The certificate was taken from her, and shown to the Archbishop. “Where did you obtain this document?”

“I obtained it by uncovering a scheme by an American journalist, Ms. Martha Whelan, or should we call you Y/n Y/l/n?” 

All eyes went to you as the room was full of gasps. 

You knew you should've turned tail and ran, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed on when Arthur found out, and you knew you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the Prince of fucking Monaco. You were the dumbest person you’d ever met. 

You didn’t dare look at Charles, knowing what his expression would be. You just looked down. 

“Is that true, you are a journalist?” the Archbishop questioned. 

You spoke confidently, though the regret was evident in your voice. “I am.”

The room was in upheaval. Everyone was angry, everyone was confused, and everyone needed an answer. 

“And your Majesty, this certificate?”

The room went silent as Pascale began to speak. “It is legitimate.” 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You were running out as quickly as humanly possible, trailing just after Charles. 

“Charles, please, just let me explain-!”

“Explain what?” he spat, turning to you. 

“I’m sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen, and I understand that you never want to see me again. I just had to tell you I’m sorry, and the only reason I kept it up was for you and Arthur.”

“And you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Arthur made me promise I wouldn’t tell you,” you sniffled. 

His face dropped. “He knew?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears. This wasn’t for you to be upset about. This was your mistake, and you couldn't fix it. 

“Why wouldn’t he let you tell me? Did he know he was adopted?”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell you. I just… he asked me not to.”

He stared at you for a moment, and it wasn’t those same, shining eyes that made your heart leap. It was the cold, dead, reserved eyes that made you want to run away and never come back, that stared back at you. “I’m glad you have your story. I suggest you stay out of our lives from now on.” 

And with that he walked on.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

New York was colder than you remembered. You had decided to just go straight to your apartment, turn off your phone, and binge watch shitty reality tv shows until you could show your face in public again without wanting to sob every time you saw something that remotely reminded you of Charles and Monaco. 

But something nagged at you. The acorn, the poem, ‘a love far greater than blood’. You didn’t understand it. So you spent about 12 hours working on deconstructing it, and you thought of something. Maybe it was your delusions after not sleeping for a day (or two), but maybe the acorn ornament could prove something, so you sent your findings over to Arthur, hoping they would make sense, and turned your phone back off, blocking all of their numbers and falling into a very needed sleep. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The next few weeks were full of clearing out your office (you quit), looking for a new job, and starting off as an actual journalist, not just cleaning up some sleaze work. It was nice, peaceful. Writing articles about things that mattered to you, things that would help people, things that weren’t a certain King of Monaco.

Life was good. Getting over your heartbreak was hard, but you were starting to believe that you might actually be alright. 

You sat in your dad’s diner, ready to ring in the New Year, when there was a snowball thrown on the glass, and when you looked outside, there he was.  

Quickly, you ran outside. “What are you doing here?” you questioned. 

He shrugged, “I never got to say goodbye, or thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me, I honestly should be apologising again and again for what I did, I am so sor-”

“You opened a door that should’ve been opened years ago. Arthur showed me what you’d done. Half because I couldn’t believe he could do it on his own, and half because… I thought it was going to be a message from you. You blocked me…”

“I didn’t want to risk bothering you anymore,” you sighed. 

“You’d never bother me,” he smiled, pausing for a moment. “Arthur misses you. So do I.”

“I miss you both too,” you smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Y’know, a palace is a lonely place for a king, when he has no queen,” he admitted. 

“It’s a good thing you’re an eligible bachelor then,” you chuckled. “Good night Charles, thank you for coming to see me-”

“I love you,” he confessed. “You made me a better man- you make me a better man. I don’t even want to spend time without you, do you understand that?” he asked, getting down on one knee and revealing an engagement ring. 

You frowned, your eyes tearing up. “Charles, I am not nobility-”

“I don’t care,” he smiled.

“My entire life is in New York-”

“We can come back as much as you want.”

“What will the people think?” you sniffled, and he stood up, wrapping his arms around you. 

“They’ll think you're a kind, caring, beautiful woman with a very intelligent mind, and brilliant ideas, who is loved very much by their King,” he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“We barely know each other Charles-”

“And yet I’ve never been more certain in my life. And I’m known to be indecisive-” 

He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him. 

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the Queen of Monaco, what a story that was.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[yanderefarm]

I need us pretending/threatening Emil with a divorce even after saying we wouldn’t 🙏🙏

this is a part 2 to this story

in your villain arc fr. i know if emil knew how you were manipulating him and playing him like a puppet he wouldn't even be mad he'd be like "thats hot wtf"

cw;; drugging, cheating, non-con (implied), abuse, manipulation

oh your poor husband, he's so pathetic and easy to break.

after your brutal breaking of his body with the cheating scandal you had been oh so generous to help him rebuild his all his lost favour. his ever loving husband who loved him past his worst flaws gave him a better reputation just by staying by his side. all he had to do was give into you, take you places, stop holding you at arms length like he was afraid of you running away and getting close to him at the same time. really all you wanted was more of his love and if that meant you had to break him down to nothing then you guess that's what you would do.

you walked into his office to find him surrounded by people, a familiar sight since his last scandal. you pushed past them to his desk, watching emil flinch away from your presence. you didn't need to yell and get angry this time, you knew exactly how to break him.

"i want a divorce."

you placed the newspaper on the desk to punctuate your sentence, the headline was a young noble woman's testimony of how the king had cornered her at the last royal banquet. another lie you had paid a pretty penny to get out there. you knew emil's head had been fuzzy since the last scandal, all it took was hiring a woman from a family desperate for money to force herself on him and then lie about it. he didn't even remember the night, he couldn't argue with you about it.

you heard his pathetic sob. that sound he would never usually make in front of anyone else. you turned back to see him still surrounded by his advisors and other noblemen but among their shocked faces you could see your husband had tears in his eyes.

"out." you ordered and they very quickly filed out leaving you two in a familiar position.

you walked back to the desk and stared down at him. your husband, already a broken and confused mess, hung his head like a kicked puppy dog so you couldn't see his eyes you could only hear him crying. you let out a heavy sigh.

"what am I supposed to do, emil? you clearly don't love me."

"that's not-"

"how many more women do i have to find out about before you admit it?"

"i don't remember that night... i don't think- i-"

a silence formed between you both only interrupted by his crying.

"i remember that night. i remember you left the party early to get some fresh air and you didn't come back."

he was shaking.

"..... if you had just talked to me we could have come to an agreement about concubines. if you didn't want to be with a man all you had to do was tell me. you don't have to keep humiliating me publicly and then lying about it."

"im not ly-"

you slammed your hands on the table making him flinch.

"you are. you're lying to me. you slept with the maid and then you lied about it and i forgave you. i forgave you because i thought you would learn your lesson."

"please... please punish me again please anything else... kill me, torture me, hate me, anything but leaving me..." he finally looked at you and you could see his pink eyes were cloudy and confused as tears dripped down his face.

".... that's pathetic emil. you want me to beat you but..." you forced your own tears along with your voice cracking. "you can't even say you love me."

emil tried to stand up, stumbling against the desk as his legs wobbled underneath him.

"don't leave me. please." his hand weakly grabbed your wrist

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"how am i supposed to trust that? how am i supposed to trust you? can you even say it? can you tell me you love me?"

"i...i...."

you ripped your hand away from him making him stumble again.

"I'm going to get the divorce papers ready. you're going to sign them."

you turned on your heel and left your husband sobbing in his office.

your plan to make the great emil landorr your mindbroken bitch was going along perfectly. it was going to be harder to drug him when you moved into the queen's palace but you were confident that the separation would drive him just as crazy.

[larluce]

Ok, to celebrate the Merlin is trend yet again. I'll share a Merthur prompt that occured to me yesterday.

I've read a couple of fics where Merlin is deaf, like he was born deaf or lost his hearing at a very young age, which leads to Arthur learning sign language to be able to comunicate with him. I love this concept, mostly cause I'm a big fan of sign language I think it's beautiful.

But what if Arthur was the deaf one and not Merlin?

Think about it. Royalty wasn't allowed to be nothing but perfect. Left handed princes were forced to learn to write with their right hand, because that was consider "defective". Now imagine having a dishability! It was disastrous!

I imagine Uther forcing Arthur to learn how to read lips and talk with a normal voice so nobody knows he's deaf. The King makes almost a requirement that people must be infront of the prince when they talk to him and never talk to him when his back is turned, saying this is to show their respect properly. Also Uther makes Arthur only speak with other people when strictly necessary. This, of course, makes Arthur feel miserable and lonely.

Years go by and Merlin arrives in Camelot. Their first meeting and later confrontation on the street happens mostly the same, just adding Merlin constantly turning his back on Arthur, despite Arthur telling him to speak to him to his face (this annoys Arthur particularly for obvious reasons).

Then Merlin saves his life, but this time Arthur isn't affected by lady Helen singing because he can't hear her. And he is way more observant thanks to his lack of hearing, so he clearly notices Merlin was in the other side of the room one second and next to him in the next when Merlin pulls him away of the direction of the knife.

So when Uther is about to reward Merlin, Arthur says just that.

Arthur: How is that you came here in time? You were on the other side of the room! Weren't you affected by the echantament?

Merlin: (nervous) I... Well...

Uther: (suspicious) Couldn't it be you are an ally of this witch boy?

Gaius: (to Merlin's rescue) Is not that, my lord. Merlin could safe the prince in time because he couldn't be affected by the singing at all. He's deaf.

This is a lie, Merlin is not deaf, but his mother is. Gaius is saying this just to save him and Merlin gets it inmediatly so he plays along.

Uther: (to Merlin) Is this true?

Merlin: (speaks in a "deaf voice" as he signs at the same time) Yes, your majesty.

Uther: I see...

Arthur: (looks what Merlin did with his hands with curiosity)

Uther: Well, as I was saying. Your act today merits something quite especial. From now on you'll be the Prince's manservant!

Later. When Arthur and Merlin are alone in Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: How did you do it?

Merlin: What?

Arthur: Get to me in time.

Merlin: Gaius explained. I'm deaf.

Arthur: Is not just that you didn't hear the singing. You were too far!

Merlin: I run fast.

Arthur: That's not true! I didn't see you running, you just appeared at my side.

Merlin: Well, how could you know? You were asleep, weren't you?

Arthur: (thinking) Fuck... (Says) You're right...It just... seemed like it because I fell asleep. (Sits on his desk and starts reading some scrolls) You are not needed now. Leave.

Merlin: (puts himself on Arthur's line of vision) I know... about you.

Arthur: (nervous) I don't know what you mean.

Merlin: You are deaf (makes the sign of "deaf")

Arthur: (laughs) I'm not.

Merlin: You weren't affected by the singing.

Arthur: That's not true. (Thinking) I was careful to pretend to fall asleep like the others.

Merlin: I also called you ungrateful royal ass when we were heading here and you had your back turned at me like ten times and you never once answered.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: I must say your speaking voice is quite impressive-

Arthur: (stands up abruptly and points at Merlin's throat with his sword)

Merlin: (lifts his hands) Wow! This is what I get for saving your life? A very ungrateful ass indeed.

Arthur: (afraid he's secret will come out) I will kill you right there.

Merlin: There's no need for this! I won't tell anyone!

Arthur: (more panic mode) Nobody can't know! If you dare to say something-

Merlin: (shouts) I HAVE MAGIC!

Arthur: ...

Arthur: (thinking maybe he didn't read Merlin's lips correctly) What?

Merlin: I have magic. That's why I wasn't affected by the singing and that's how I got to you in time. I also dropped the chandelier on her. I used magic. See? Now you know a secret of mine that could get me killed. So I'm not going to give you away

Arthur: (puts down his sword slowly) So... you are not really deaf? (Kind of dissapointed cause he though he finally find a person like him that could understand him)

Merlin: (surprised Arthur puts more attention to this fact than the fact that he is a sorcerer) No, but my mom is. That's partly how I figured you out. You remind me of her.

Arthur: (remembering the sign language) You did something with your hands before, while speaking.

Merlin: Oh, that's a language my mother tought me to be able to comunicate with her better 😊! We have a hand gesture for every letter, a, b, c, d, e (shows the sign as he mentions the letters) And also a sign for every word like table, run, angry, prince (does the last sign pointing at Arthur) It's easier for her like this. I know reading lips is exhausting. I translated her what other people were saying most of the time.

Arthur: (gets a bittersweet feeling, thinking on how this woman wasn't force to fit the standar and rather her son adapted himself to her needs) That's really nice. You are a good son. (smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes). I won't tell anybody about you either. You don't have to worry.

Merlin: (relieved, but also notices his sadness) I could teach you if you like. My mom's language.

Arthur: (shakes his head) I can't be seen learning a deaf language.

Merlin: They don't have to know is for you. As far as everyone knows I'm the one who is deaf, remember? You can tell them you're learning it for me so you can comunicate with your deaf servant better.

Arthur: And would they buy it?

Merlin: I mean you are not precisly known for being kind to your servants, but it's worth a try. What do you say?

Arthur: (smiles genuinely this time) I would like to.

So Merlin teaches Arthur the language and his life gets better from then on. Merlin is always with Arthur in every meeting or interaction with other nobels and translates him what he didn't catch. It becomes a common occurrence seeing the prince and his servant comunicating in this particular way in the halls. Then Morgana (one of the few that knew about Arthur's secret) and Gwen start learning it too, bringing even more attention from outside view.

Then Uther, angry cause he thinks this could lead to Arthur's secret been revealed, tries to send Merlin away. Arthur argues with him for that of course, sometimes signing furiosly as he speaks.

Uther: Stop making those hand movements for godsake! You look like a retarded!

Arthur: (doesn't speak and signs furiously instead) Oh, you don't like when I sign? Well look!

Uther: What was that? Speak.

Arthur: (signs) It doesn't feel good not understanding what someone says, does it?

Uther: I said speak!

Arthur: (shouts) I said it doesn't feel good when you don't understand what someone says, does it?! To have make an extrordinary effort to just get a word right everytime someone as much as opens their mouth!

Uther: ...

Uther: Arthur-

Arthur: I finally found a way to comprehend better the world around me thanks to Merlin. And instead of seing it as an opportunity, you want to take that away from me!

Uther: You were fine before.

Arthur: I wasn't!

Uther: Well, you won't die because you can't do some hand gestures. This is stopping. Now!

Arthur: (takes a deep breath) Alright, I won't do it ever again. But let Merlin stay. (Begs) Please.

Uther: The boy can stay.

Arthur: (with gritted teeth) Thank you, father. (Bows and leaves)

Morgana: (enters the room having heard the whole conversation from outside) You must know this will kill him.

Uther: He's just being dramatic. It'll pass.

Morgana: My lord, you never once wondered... why Arthur didn't move?

Uther: What?

Morgana: When the blade of that witch was flying at him.

Uther: He was enchanted.

Morgana: He wasn't. He can't hear, the voice of Lady Helen couldn't reach him. So why didn't he move when he was completely aware and he had more than enough time to evade it?

Uther: ...

Morgana: Think about it, my lord. (Leaves)

Sometime later. After seeing his son doing his duties depressed, contrasting with how joyful he had been the last months, Uther decides to call Merlin to his chambers.

Merlin: Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: What are those hand gestures you do that my son seems so obsessed with?

Merlin: My mom calls it "sign language", Sire.

Uther: So it is an actual language.

Merlin: Yes, there is a "hand gesture" for every letter and word.

Uther: (pauses) Could you... Teach it to me?

Merlin: (smiles brightly) Of course, Sire.

So Uther lets Arthur keep signing. One day he surprises him signing back and Arthur almost cries right there.

As time passes. More people learn to sign, first the knights so they can interact in silence during a mission (an idea proposed by Arthur). Then, since the King , the Prince and the King's ward interact like this constantly, it gains popularity as a "language of royals" so nobel families start using it too. Merlin teaches to sign to some of Gaius' pacients who have deaf relatives which leads to the language to spread to the lower town.

And about a decade later sign language is basically the official second language in Camelot.

That's all I got for now. I don't know how merthur would get together in this AU or how events of the series would unfold with this change like Nimueh or Morgause intervation. If you had any ideas, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be reading you ;)

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Soulmates

Pairings: Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: A silly dream you and Natasha shared as kids turns out to be your destiny.

Word Count: 5.05k

Warnings: Injuries — (broken bones, cuts, bruises)

Author’s Note: Another one that’s been collecting dust. At this point I’m just deep cleaning my drafts I hope you like it 💕

Other mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise | Perfect | Enamored

Natasha and you had been raised alongside each other since birth.

As the royal heir you were born the kingdoms Princess, and would one day step up after your parents stepped down from their positions as King and Queen.

Meanwhile, once Natasha became of age her father began her training as she was meant to become the young Princesses Royal Knight.

Both of your families had always been close friends. Natasha’s father was your father’s best solider, so you and the redhead had practically grown up together.

The bond between your two families meant that you and the young knight spent a lot of time together. So much time that as you grew up, you and Natasha inevitably fell for each other and only continued to as you got older.

Your parents knew you two had something special from the gecko, but no one knew if it was just puppy love, or if it’d turn out to be the love story you’d only ever hear about in books.

That thought always took up a space in your mind, just like it was right now.

How you got so lucky to be the one in a billion to actually live one of those love stories.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nat! Natty, wait for me!” you call out to the slightly older girl.

Natasha always teased you for being younger than her even if it was only by a few months. She stopped in her tracks and turned around, waiting a moment for you to catch up to her as your feet quickly patted against the pavement outside.

“Sorry, princess,” she gazed at you once you reached her. “I’m just really excited to see where our parents are taking us.”

Your cheeks flushed a pink tint at the pet name and your heart fluttered. People were supposed to formally address you as Princess since that’s who you were, but whenever Natasha called you that you both knew it had a different meaning.

Natasha always had such a soft spot for you. Some might call it puppy love, but both of your parents believed it was the cutest thing to ever exist.

As she had a couple inches over you, you had to latch onto her arm and lean up on your tippy-toes to peck her cheek. This time it was Natasha’s turn to blush.

“Well, now we can go down there together.” you said and gave her a sweet smile that made her heart double in beats per minute.

Both of your mothers playfully shook their heads to themselves as they made their way over to you, watching the interaction.

“She’s a smooth little girl.” Melina commented with a chuckle.

Your mother chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know where she got that from because it definitely was not her father.”

You two on the other hand were completely oblivious of their presence as you became immersed in chasing each other around the castle garden, your loud giggles rumbling through air.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Melina laughed along with your mother.

The two women watched as Natasha caught up to you and pulled you into her arms. “They’re too cute.” your mother cooed and Melina nodded her head, smiling widely.

At some point Natasha had picked a yellow flower from the grass and place it in your hair with sophistication, admiring how it just accentuated your already beautiful features.

She brought you into a tight hug and dramatically pleaded, “Marry me, Y/n! Marry me so nothing will ever come between us and we can be together forever and ever!”

“Yes! A trillion times yes, Natasha! I will marry you even if it’s the last thing I do!” You theatrically declared, mimicking a woman in a television show.

Natasha pulled back and leaned in with her lips exaggeratedly puckered out way too far and cheeks puffed out so much they could’ve popped, but before she could reach yours she was lifted up into her father’s arms.

“Alright, you little player. You’re not quite ready for that one just yet.” Alexei teased the young redhead.

Natasha scoffed. “I am not a player! Y/n is my fiancé and I am going to make her my wife! I put a flower on it and everything!” she argued with a pout.

That was when your own father scooped you up into his arms and spun you around. “Aren’t you just the enchantress? You’ve got little Natasha all lovestruck and heart eyed. Poor girl.”

You giggled before you heard Natasha call out in annoyance. “I am not little!”

Amused looks spread across your mothers’ faces at the precious scene. At the time, no one knew that your’ and Natasha’s pretend was destined to become a reality.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to around 11 years old)

“Nat, are you sure you know we’re you’re going?” you asked, hesitation evident in your voice as she guided you by your hand through the trees.

This would be the third time you asked her this question, so she playfully rolled her eyes at your uncertainty.

“Yes, Y/n, I come here all the time after training. Stop worrying your pretty little head so much, you’ll give yourself a headache.” Natasha assured.

Normally her sweet talk would have you swooning, but this time you were too distracted by the uneasiness you felt about where you were. Natasha had dragged you out to the forest behind the kingdom, saying she had something special that she wanted you to see.

You two had snuck away when your parents were busy, so no one even knew where you were, but you of course agreed because you trust the redhead with everything you have.

“Okay, we’re here.” Natasha’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked around in confusion, seeing nothing besides an abnormally large tree.

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” you finally spoke.

The young knight chuckled at your slightly furrowed eyebrows, “Follow me.” was all she said before beginning to climb up the tall tree.

“What— Natasha what’re you doing?”

“Come on, this is the only way you’ll see it.” she attempted to encourage you.

You were still very unsure about it so you just watched from the ground as she made her way up the tree. She eventually stopped and made herself comfortable on one of the limbs. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” you projected your voice up to her.

“Come on, Y/n, trust me! The view is beautiful from up here. It’s like you can the whole world!” Natasha called down to you.

You contemplated once more before finally giving in. You followed the path you had watched the redhead take and began climbing the tree. However, you had only made it about halfway when a branch you had grabbed onto began to snap.

Before you could even yell for Natasha like you had originally intended, the branch snapped completely and you yelped instead as you fell.

Your mind had barely registered the young knight calling out your name when you hit the ground. The air was knocked out of your lungs, but you noticed the sharp pain that shot up your arm the most.

“Y/n!” Natasha panicked, and when she heard you cry out tears she quickly made her way down to you.

The words to ask you what was hurting were on the tip of her tongue, but that question was answered when she saw you holding your arm and a few scratches on the side of your face.

Natasha didn’t know what to do.

You were sobbing and clearly in a lot of pain, so she lifted you into her arms bridal style and ran as fast as her legs would take her back to the kingdom without causing you any further discomfort.

Ignoring all the looks from passing townspeople, she bolted up the castle stairs and rushed inside.

“Mom! Mom, dad, where are you! Mom!” Natasha frantically searched every room for either of your parents.

They must’ve heard her shouting because they exited the meeting room and saw the young knight running straight towards them with you crying in her arms.

“Natasha, what happened?” Melina asked her daughter with furrowed eyebrows.

“I wanted to show Y/n this really nice view, but we had to climb a tree in order to see it. She didn’t even want to do it in the first place but I convinced her to, and she fell and I think she hurt her arm.” Natasha explained to the four adults as your father gently took you into his arms.

She began to tear up and followed them to the infirmary, “I— I just wanted to show her something I thought she’d like. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”

Your mother placed a comforting hand on the young girls shoulder to get her attention, “It’s okay, Natasha. We know you’d never put her in harms way on purpose, but you did good bringing her back because now we can help her.”

Natasha wiped away the tears in her eyes, although it was no use because more began to fall anyway, “It’s all my fault, I’m the one who took her out there to begin with. She’d be okay if it weren’t for me.”

“Now, now, Natasha. Stop being so hard on yourself. I’m sure Y/n won’t blame you once she’s all patched up.” Your mother reassured, and she was right.

A couple hours later your parents informed the young redhead and her parents of your condition. The force of the impact when you hit the ground had broken your arm, and you had a few light scratches on your cheek that should quickly fade.

The doctor gave your parents some medication to help with any pain you had, and allowed them to take you back to your own bedroom. When Natasha was asked if she would like to see you she of course said yes, but couldn’t ignore the nerves she felt.

Would you be upset with her?

Your mothers led Natasha to your bedroom and opened the door for her to enter, but she hesitated. She felt as though her feet were glued to the floor.

“Are you sure?” the knight in training asked. “I don’t think she’d want to see me.”

Your mother crouched down to Natasha’s height to look at her. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” she said and Natasha nodded. “Between you and me I think you’re the first person she’d wanna see.”

The young girl sat with those words for a moment longer and contemplated before finally stepping into you room. When she reached your beside she realized that you were sound asleep.

Natasha’s eyes scanned the peaceful expression on your face. Your eyelashes just barely brushed against your cheeks, and your slow breathing was heard through the quietness of the room.

Her gaze traveled down to the white cast around your arm and a sense of guilt washed over her, but she tried to disregard that feeling and just focus on you.

She noticed a lock of hair that had started to fall in front of your face, so Natasha tucked it behind your ear. However, she regretted that decision when your eyes fluttered open and met hers.

Your lips pulled up into a small smile. “Hi, Natty.”

“Hey,” she practically whispered.

You frowned at her vague and quiet response. “What’s wrong?” you wondered.

Natasha sighed and let her eyes travel back to your injured arm. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened when you said you didn’t wanna go up, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

“Hey,” you sat up and placed a hand over the young knights hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact and she met your gaze again. “It was an accident, Nat. I don’t blame you for this, and I’m okay now.”

“I know. I just hated seeing you in so much pain knowing I talked you into doing it.”

You looked at her with soft eyes that instantly calmed her racing mind. “Well you did carry me all the way back, so I guess that makes up for it. All of those extra hours you put into your training finally paid off.” you both giggled.

Maybe this whole situation wasn’t as bad as Natasha convinced herself it was.

“You wanna sign my cast? It looks kind of boring right now.” you asked.

Natasha smiled and nodded her head, looking around the room for something to write with. She spotted a red marker on your large dresser and grabbed it before returning to your side.

She gently took your arm into her hand and signed her name, attempting to draw a few hearts around it, but they just ended up uneven and lopsided.

Nevertheless, they were special.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to 16 Years Old)

“Mom!” Natasha called out as she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last step whilst she tucked her maroon button-up shirt into her black slacks. “Does this look okay? Should I try on a different one?”

Melina examined the outfit her daughter was wearing before smiling at her, “You look wonderful, sweetheart. Stop worrying so much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Are you wearing my pants?” Yelena said as he walked into the room alongside Alexei.

Natasha glared at her sister while slipping on the jacket and straightening out the collar of her shirt with the help of Melina.

“Your mother is right, honey. I’m sure Y/n will love it.” Alexei chimed in.

Today was your sixteenth birthday, and your parents thought it would be the perfect opportunity to throw a ball to celebrate this milestone. Everyone in the kingdom received an invitation in the mail, but the Romanoffs were obviously at the top of the guest list.

Natasha was no doubt nervous. She so badly wanted to make an impression on you, but would never admit it to avoid her family’s very unfunny jokes.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have to disclose that information in order for her parents and sister to know that she and the young princess always had a thing for each other, even as little kids.

“Oh, so that’s why you stole my pants.” Yelena smirked. “So you could impress your little girlfriend.” she spoke in a teasing tone.

The young knight rolled her eyes, “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Well I suggest you try to change that before someone else decides to sweep her off her feet.”

Before Natasha could retaliate Melina saved her the trouble, “Alright you two, let’s get going before we’re late.” She ushered her family out the front door and gave Natasha a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder.

~

People were still making their way inside when they arrived. Your parents stood at the entrance welcoming people into the castle, and their eyes lit up when they saw their most dearest friends walking up the steps.

“Melina, Alexei, Natasha, Yelena! You’re finally here, thank you for coming!” Your father greeted the family while your mother gave each of them a quick hug.

“You all look lovely tonight.” she said.

“Oh, the same goes for you two as well.” Melina returned the compliment.

Your mother looked towards Natasha, “Y/n is still in her room getting ready and should be down in just a few minutes, but you’re welcome to go find her if you’d like.”

Natasha nodded, “Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n.” she responded before moving past them to make her way to your room.

She knocked on the door and smiled to herself when she heard your comforting voice call out.

“Just a second!”

A few moments later the door opened and you stood face to face, “Nat!” you exclaimed happily and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Hey, birthday girl.” Natasha chuckled. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You let her go and shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just about ready anyway.” you answered and returned to your spot in front of your mirror.

Natasha migrated further into the room and rested against your bed frame. “Well, you look amazing.” she said.

You turned to look back at her with a smile on your lips, “Thanks,” you replied and took in her attire. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

The young knight smiled and looked down while you went back to fixing your hair. Natasha tried her best not to stare, but that was proving to be difficult as she kept lifting her head to glance at you.

She decided to break the comfortable silence to distract herself. “Is now a good time for me to give you your gift? I know it’s not time to open presents yet, but I think it’ll look good with your dress.”

You looked back at her again, “Nat, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I knew you’d say that, but I wanted to.” Natasha moved to stand behind you before meeting your eyes through the mirror.

When she pulled something out of her pocket and gently placed it around your neck, you realized that it was a necklace, the charm attached shimmering in the light.

You looked down at the piece of jewelry in awe, “Oh Nat, it’s beautiful.” you said and turned around completely to face her.

“It looks even better on you.” she flattered. You couldn’t stop your cheeks from turning a light shade of pink and Natasha grinned at the effect she had on you.

It took a moment for you to gather your composure before taking her hand in yours. “Come on, there’s an entire party downstairs and I wanna see what kind of food they have.” you both giggled as you dragged her down the stairs and to the ballroom.

Hours later the party was now in full swing. You had received happy birthday wishes from so many people you lost count, and ate so many different desserts that you’d probably have a stomachache the next day.

When people began setting down their drinks to find space to dance, Natasha looked towards you and thought she’d take the opportunity to ask you to dance with her.

“May I have—” she started to say, but was interrupted when a young boy around your age approached you.

“Um, excuse me, Princess. Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, clearly nervous considering his fidgeting hands.

As much as you wanted to decline his offer, you felt obligated to accept as you were the kingdoms princess. You looked at Natasha with an apologetic expression and told her you’d be right back before following the boy.

Anyone that looked at the redhead would be able to tell she was annoyed— it was written all over here face.

So when she made her way over to her family, Yelena raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

The young knight sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, “Someone else decided to sweep her off her feet.”

All she could do was watch as you kept getting pulled away to dance with people. Whenever a song ended and you tried to make your way back over to her, someone else was by your side asking to dance. To both of you, it felt like forever before you were finally back together.

The song came to an end you were practically speed walking to where Natasha was standing off to the side in a successful attempt to avoid getting pulled away again.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I swear they just kept coming out of no where.” you breathed out, gulping down your glass of water to catch your breath.

Natasha smiled and shook her head, “It’s okay, is it my turn now or are you too worn out?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Natty.” you took her hand and led her to an empty space amongst other dancing people.

Her arms encircled your waist while yours wrapped loosely around her neck. Neither of you exactly knew how to dance, so you just gently swayed with the music.

The young knight found that the annoyance she was feeling early could no longer be felt now that she finally had you. She was too happy to focus on anything except you— but there was one other thing on her mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha said.

You hummed, nodding your head. “Of course, Nat.”

She sighed contently and tightened her hold on you. “I think we both know that we’ve felt something for each other that’s more than best friends, even as little kids. I mean my parents still won’t let me forget about that time I asked you to marry me when we were what? Six?” she spoke and you both laughed at the memory.

“And I did say yes. Actually, if I recall correctly I was pretty enthusiastic about it too.” you giggled.

“Yeah, you were.” Natasha grinned. “But I wanted to know if you’d maybe wanna make our relationship official. You know, so I can be the only one you dance with at parties like these.” she asked hopefully.

You looked at her with a smirk plastered across your face and raised eyebrows. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Well— yeah…I am.”

You smiled and laid your head on her shoulder, “I’d love nothing more, Nat.” you said and your answer brought an even bigger grin to her face.

What you didn’t know was that your mothers were watching the scene unfold from across the room, sipping on glasses of expensive wine.

Your mother playfully shook her head, “Like true soulmates.” she spoke and Melina hummed in agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Two years later)

“Do you have to go?” you said sadly.

You stood on the dock clutching onto the young knight as if she’d disappear into thin air if you let go while she held you just as tight. Both of your families stood around talking, watching the saddening encounter.

Natasha was about to leave for her first ever commission. It was an overseas assignment for her to prove her ability to protect the kingdoms Princess, so as much as she didn’t want to leave you, she had to.

The young knight cupped the back of your head with one hand and pressed her nose into your hair, basking in the comforting scent of your shampoo to soak up her last few moments with you before her departure.

“You’ll be okay, Y/n. Three weeks, and then I’ll be back with you again.” she assured.

“Three weeks without you is too long.” you said. You and Natasha had always been inseparable, so it was hard knowing that she’d be so far away.

“I know, princess, I know.” Natasha whispered into your hair. It was only when she heard you sniffle and felt tears wetting her neck that she pulled back to look at you. “Hey,” she cooed and cupped your cheeks.

“It’ll go by so fast you won’t even remember I’m gone. Yelena promised me she’d keep you company, and she basically is me because she’s my sister, so hopefully you won’t miss me too much.”

That made a small smile pull at your lips. “No offense to Yelena, but no one could ever compare to you, Nat. I’ll miss you so much, and what if you get hurt over there?” you said.

Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead, “I’ll be okay, princess. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

Her thumbs swiped under your eyes to wipe away your tears before she closed the distance between the two of you and connected your lips.

You both knew you had to keep it short and sweet considering both of your families were still there.

“I love you so much, Nat.” you whispered.

She gazed lovingly at you, “I love you more, my beautiful girl. So much more.” the words fell from Natasha’s lips ever so softly.

You were unfortunately brought out of your little bubble with Natasha much sooner than you would’ve liked when over her shoulder, you caught sight of Natasha’s commander walking off of the ship and towards you.

He cleared his throat, now catching everyone’s attention. “I hate to do this, but the captain’s ready. It’s time to go, romanoff.” he announced.

Your heart dropped as you’d been dreading this moment.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be just a second.” Natasha said.

He nodded his head and walked back onto the ship.

The young knight turned to you and sighed, “I guess that’s my cue.” she said and you nodded in understanding.

Natasha let go of you to approach her family, giving her parents and a hug as well as your parents. She exchanged words with them that you couldn’t really hear before making her way back over to you.

She delicately cupped your face in her hands and pressed her lips to yours once again. You both poured all of your love and passion for each other into the kiss, knowing it’d be the last one until she got back.

You pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. “See you in three weeks?”

“See you in three weeks.” she promised.

You let Natasha go and watched as she boarded. The ship departed soon after.

The castle suddenly became quieter for you with the young knight gone. You of course had to continue with your usual duties and responsibilities because life goes on, but it wasn’t the same without Natasha around.

What made it bearable was that you still had your parents to go into town with every Tuesday and visit all of your favorite spots like normal, conversing with the workers there that you’d become good friends with over the years.

Yelena kept her word and would hang out with you whenever you had free time to distract you from the thought of Natasha being overseas. Melina and Alexei were great as well and did whatever they could to help.

With all of that combined, everything turned out to be okay just like Natasha had said.

And the young knight made good of her promise to you because three weeks later, your father had knocked on your bedroom door, pulling your attention away from the book in your hands to inform you that Natasha’s ship had just returned.

You jumped out of bed so fast, not even bothering to mark your page as you rushed out of the castle and down to the docks. You probably looked like a madman with the way you were running, a huge smile plastered on your face.

But you didn’t care because you got to the docks right on time to see Natasha walking off the ship. When her eyes locked on you she grinned widely and dropped her bags to meet you halfway as you practically leaped into her arms.

~~~~~~~~

(Time jump a few years later/present day)

You turned off the faucet and shook your hands to rid them of dripping water before drying them completely with the hand towel hung on the wall. A gentle smile sat on your lips, one that hasn’t left your face since the night began.

It was the day that you could only dream of as a little kid.

Literally.

You opened the bathroom door and started to walk out, wanting to get back to the after-party before you missed out on too much of this important night when you felt a gentle grip on your wrist.

Whoever grabbed you had pulled you back into them so your back was against their front, but you didn’t panic too much because you immediately recognized the familiar cologne of your wife whom you just tied the knot with merely a couple hours ago.

She wrapped her arms arms around your torso and pressed a feather light kiss to your neck. “There you are, my love. I lost you there for a moment, I missed you.”

You giggled as her breath tickled your neck. “I was only gone for a few minutes, Nat.”

“A few minutes too long. But now that I found you, I can have a moment with you alone before we go back to everyone.”

You hummed and relaxed back into her, letting out a content sigh as you admired the shining ring that Natasha had slid onto your finger after vowing to you that she would spend the rest of her life by your side.

That this was forever like it was always meant to be.

“I can’t believe we’re actually married.” you whispered out.

Natasha smiled against you. “I know, it feels so surreal. Six year old me would be over the moon right now.”

You both laughed at that. It probably was true.

“You know our moms always called us soulmates.” Natasha said as she reached to take your left hand into hers, staring at the ring and smiling to herself at the memories coming back to her.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “They were right though, weren’t they?”

The redhead sighed happily, “They were.”

You two basked in each other’s presence in silence for a moment as Natasha pressed small kisses to any part of your skin she could reach. You giggled whenever her lips touched a ticklish spot.

“We should probably go back out there now. Before people start thinking we abandoned our own wedding.” you joked.

Natasha chuckled, though continuing her ministrations, “We can spare a few more minutes, right?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “No, we cannot. Because you’re going to get carried away and then we’re going to actually abandon our own wedding.”

The redhead groaned when you began pulling away from her, but you made it up to her by pressing a kiss to her lips which seemed to satisfy her for now before taking her hand and leading her back to the after-party.

“There you guys are!” Yelena said once she saw the two of you, “We’ve been looking for you. It’s time for your guy’s first dance.”

She dragged you both over to your parents where they were waiting.

You couldn’t help the smile that seemed to take over your face.

Everything was perfect as can be, and now you get to enjoy it all with your soulmate.

~ end ~

[fangirl-erdariel]

It's actually fairly possible that Théoden's mother was still alive during the main events of LOTR. She has no year of death given in the appendices (also technically no year of birth, but that can at least be counted from the age difference between her and Thengel), or anywhere else that I would know of. Nor is there any direct reference to her being dead, or text worded in a way that would be impossible if she were still alive during LOTR that I know of. The firmest piece of evidence there is for her being dead is only her absence from the story.

Now, yes, it seems likely to me that Tolkien intended for Morwen of Lossarnach to be dead by the time of LOTR. But Tolkien can roll in his grave all he wants if it's important to him, I am going to discuss the possibility of her being alive nonetheless because I find it interesting.

The appendices mention that Morwen was 17 years younger than Thengel, which would mean she was born in 2922. If my math holds up, that would make her 97 in 3019 when most of the major battles of War of the Ring are fought, if she lives that long. Possibly 96 if she was born late in the year, since those battles happen in spring of that year.

She is Gondorian nobility, mentioned to be descended from the Princes of Dol Amroth, though I do not think the details of her relation to them are specified beyond that. And if we look at the two Gondorian noble families where we have any kind of data for their lifespans, that being the Stewards and the Princes of Dol Amroth - the last four Stewards of Gondor before Denethor each lived 98-100 years. The last four Princes before Imrahil live to be 93, 111, 105, and 114, respectfully, and Imrahil lives to 100 years old. As for the next generation or two after that, Faramir lived to 120 years old. Prince Imrahil's son Elphir was 101 when he died, and his son Alphros was 99. Éomer, grandchild of Morwen Steelsheen, lived to 93 years old, despite his other three grandparents being presumably Rohirrim, whose lifespan (at a quick glance through the list of the Kings of Rohan) usually seems to range between 70 and a few years past 80.

So if Morwen falls roughly into the same range with the Gondorian nobility whose lifespans are known, then, yeah, sure, maybe she's dead by the time the main events of LOTR happen. But it's just as possible that she'd still be alive and even have a couple more years left in her.

And I just find myself fascinated by that possibility.

On one hand, there's the tragedy of her outliving at least two of her children, and at least one of her grandchildren. But on the other hand, when you consider all the women, all the wives and mothers, who fall ill and die, or waste away from grief or the horror and weight of the shadow in the last three or so decades before War of the Ring (Finduilas of Dol Amroth, Théodwyn, Gilraen, though at least Gilraen didn't die as young as the other two; and while her death has nothing to do with grief or influence of the shadow, Elfhild the wife of Théoden dies in childbirth during that timespan), I also see a certain triumph in the idea of Morwen enduring it and living to see a time after Sauron, if only briefly.

But if she is still alive, where is she? I see three possible options. The first is that she is still in Edoras. The second is that she lives somewhere else in Rohan, either in some other house belonging to the royal family, or with one of her unnamed daughters and her family. The third is that at some point after Thengel's death, she returned to Gondor and her family there.

The still in Edoras option seems unlikely from a logical standpoint, since there's no mention of her as there really should have been if she were there. There's something narratively pretty delicious, at least to me, though, in the idea that she might have been there to witness firsthand her son's decline and yet been for whatever reason unable to intervene

Living somewhere in Rohan, probably with another of her children (she had two daughters after Théoden before Théodwyn, and one who's even at oldest still under five years older than Théoden, so any of them could pretty plausibly still be alive), would make some sense, if she had wanted to retire from court life but still remained within relatively easy distance of her children and grandchildren. It would also kind of still allow for her being very aware of what's going on in Meduseld, while offering a more easy excuse for why she's unable to intervene and also not mentioned at any points in the books.

And returning to Gondor at some point after Thengel had died and Théoden had settled into the position of the king and all her children were adults likewise makes sense. She and Thengel lived in Gondor for ten years before moving to Rohan when Thengel inherited the throne, so it seems likely she'd have retained strong ties to her family in Gondor, rather than all those being cut off by her marriage, and considering all we know of Lossarnach, as someone on the SWG discord pointed out when i mentioned these thoughts the other day, Lossarnach seems like a nice enough place to retire to. It would put her pretty solidly away from all the drama going on in Rohan, though, but maybe if you're into fluff, Éowyn and Faramir could make a visit to her in Lossarnach sometime after the war

Anyway. I just wanted to say. Maybe Morwen of Lossarnach isn't dead yet, when LOTR happens. Maybe she gets to see what she probably never thought would happen in her lifetime, or ever at all, Sauron being defeated, Gondor having a king again. She'd have to face horrible loss, yeah. But she'd also see a new sunrise, triumph and joy like no one dared to hope for. So. Maybe. Maybe she's still alive, long enough to see that

[pineconepie]

Yan king???👀

I had a little fun with the worldbuilding because it gave me an excuse to use one of my old ideas.

I'll explain it briefly because I didn't do much explaining in the writing: there are five major kingdoms in the nation of Lepidoptra - Rosy Maple, Atlas, Luna, Death's Head, and the one where reader is from: Comet Kingdom. Everyone has wings that resemble a moth, along with antennae. (yes moths are a huge hyperfixation of mine)

Just thought I'd get that out of the way lol. Anyway, this is probably one of the most yandere characters I've written mwehehe.

TW: Attempted murder (kind of but not really), parental yandere, manipulation, implied gaslighting, infantilization

...

Ever since you could recall, your father had been very protective over you. He homeschooled you, didn't let you leave the house much, only allowed a few select friends, but those friends were also friends with your dad, and just getting paid to talk to you.

Your father would hold you as often as he could, making sure he was the first and last thing you'd see daily.

He had told you, ever since you were just a young mothling, your wings had been cut off by a robber who attempted to kidnap you, and thus, your father had to be extremely cautious in regards to keeping you safe at home.

You never left the house alone, and even if you did, you were monitored.

Sometimes, you'd get strange flashbacks. Almost like deja-vu, but these felt more vivid in your mind.

Once when you saw Castor, your father's, sword, you had a vision of yourself getting stabbed in the chest. Or when he'd look angry at you, you'd recall seeing that exact expression on his face before. But those thoughts went away as soon as they appeared.

Sometimes you'd get horrible nightmares of him. You dreamed he hurt you somehow. And yet, you'd always wake up feeling fine. Nothing hurt physically.

But mentally? Something just wasn't clicking right.

Recently you began sneaking out of the castle, not wanting to alert your father, and you began going to this little tavern at the edge of town to spend time with your village friends, ones you know for a fact your father would never dream of approving.

"Calliope, Osmond, hey," you greet warmly, walking over to their usual table in the corner, sitting down beside them.

"Hey," Calliope says, leaning her head against her hand. "How was escaping the palace? Almost got caught again?" Her bright golden wings flutter slightly as she grins.

"Nah, Dad doesn't suspect anything at all," you proudly state.

"Good, because he would have our heads," Osmond sighs. He shares an uneasy glance with Calliope, then glances back at you. "We wanted to speak to you about something unsettling we found. About your father."

You hesitate. "If this is about him and the Atlas Kingdom again, I told you already—"

"It's not about that," Calliope mutters. She pulls out a huge book from a satchel, one that barely even fits in it. "Okay, I'm about to warn you, this is weird as hell. Even Oz was weirded out."

"Well if he was unsettled by it, then I'm scared to see what it even is," you say with a breathless chuckle.

"We found it in the royal library," Osmond tells you quietly. "And well, this should explain it." He opens up the book and starts flipping through pages and pages until he lands on one in particular, pointing down at it for you to read.

It has your name and picture on it. Your full name, everything.

At first, you find it slightly strange, but think there may be some kind of explanation. Most of the pictures on the book show you when you were younger, being held on Castor's hip while he made speeches at ceremonies. He looks the same as he does now, except maybe with a bit longer hair.

Then you start seeing yourself getting older...

There's one of a memory you don't even recall, of a headline saying the "(Y/n), Child of King Castor of the Comet Kingdom, joins Arkema Mittrei, Academy" in which you're being handed over to the kingdom's most prestigious academy.

You were homeschooled, that never even happened!

Another one shows you using magic abilities, and you look older than you currently even are. And you have... wings?!

"That was our expression when we read it too," Calliope anxiously says. "We weren't supposed to be in the Royal Library since its always locked and guarded, but we managed to get in with Oz's magic. We were looking for more evidence to prove to you that your father is terrible, but instead we just stumbled upon this."

You don't know what to say. "This doesn't make any sense. I never went to any academy, and my wings..."

"And you look older in these photos," Osmond observes. "I don't know what is going on, but this is just further proof you can't trust him. I know he raised you and you love him, but he's controlling your life and clearly keeping things from you. I knew he caused a lot of meaningless wars and was incredibly paranoid about you, but this?"

"I'm at a loss for words, here," you murmur, shaking your head as you feel tears stinging in your eyes. "What the hell am I supposed to do?! Just confront my dad and hope for the best?"

Calliope puts a hand on your shoulder. "Run away with us," she proposes. "Oz's mom is in the Atlas Kingdom, we can find sanctuary there."

"No way am I just abandoning my dad with no warning," you argue. "Besides, he'd try burning down all of Atlas if he knew I was there! I'll just ask him for an explanation. I'm sure there is one."

"And risk letting him know you've been sneaking out of the kingdom?" Osmond scoffs. "Your death wish, not mine."

"Just give us at least a month or two," Calliope says. "Please. That way we can come up with a game plan."

You exhale quietly, your antennae twitching. "Okay. But no longer."

...

"Uhm, hey, Dad? I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Hm?" He peers his eyes away from the newspaper he's reading and smiles at you. "Of course! Come sit." You hesitate as he pats the seat next to him on the couch, and you reluctantly plop beside him. He hugs you closer to his chest. "So," he hums, kissing the side of your head, "what is it?"

"...have I ever went to Arkema Mittrei Academy?" You watch as his smile drops.

He glances off, contemplating a response before returning his gaze to you. "Oh, sweetheart, where did you hear that? Of course not! I think you'd remember something like that." His laugh sounds nervous. "Have you been having those scary dreams again?"

You bite your tongue. "No. I came across a book in the royal library. I know you don't like me going in there unsupervised, but I did. And I saw pictures of myself at the school, and another one where I'm older, and have my wings. Why do I have no recollection of those moments happening?"

His smile drops even more so, and now, his expression is unreadable. "Where did you get the book, baby?"

"I... uh, I got it in the royal library. I told you that," you stutter.

"How did you get in there unsupervised? There's always guards patrolling the library," Castor explains, narrowing his eyes. "Did someone help you sneak in?"

"What? No!" you lie. You start trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he holds you still.

"Baby," he soothes, almost condescendingly, "just tell Dad what he wants to know. I'm not mad."

He's lying. He's angry. You can't see the expression on his face because he's holding you so closely, but you can feel his rage boiling beneath his skin.

"No, I'm not lying. It was just left unlocked! But that's not my question, I wanna know what I saw in those! Why is there evidence of me doing and experiencing things I have zero memory of?!"

"I knew I should've burnt that damn book," he grumbles under his breath. "I thought you were doing so well this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?!" you nearly cry, flailing so hard out of his grasp you fall to the floor.

"Oops!" Castor chuckles, standing over you with a cold grin. "Gosh, it feels like yesterday when you could hardly walk without tripping over your feet. Always so wobbly and unstable." He stands up and contemplates on something. "Alrighty, kiddo, since I'm so nice, you have two options. Bedtime and we'll forget about this, or you keep pushing me and we'll see where this takes us."

"What does that mean?" you rasp. "What will you do?"

Castor's bright wings spread out widely, as a show to intimidate you and make you feel smaller. "I really would rather we both just go to bed."

He's never hurt you in the past... "I just want to know what's going on."

"Well, for starters, all that information you think you know is irrelevant, it's been rewritten now," Castor replies nonchalantly, looking down at you. "All those things you saw happened, but you didn't experience them because that wasn't you. Not this you. The original you was too disobedient, so I had to reset and start all over again."

"Reset?!" you repeat incredulously. "What are you talking about?!"

Castor runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Since you think an explanation is worth it. You can't die. You're immortal, just not in the same way I am. This is like..." He pauses. "...your nineteenth life or so, I believe? Once you die, you turn back into a baby. No injuries, no sickness, no memories. A clean slate. I try to avoid it, but whenever you start rebelling or growing too independent, it has to be done all over again."

"Nothing has to be done! You're killing me, just so you can what?! Watch me grow up again, exactly the same way?! What kind of twisted logic is that?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me," Castor scolds. "I'm not killing you, at least not technically. Besides, I love watching you grow, trying to find the perfect way to raise you. But it seems like no matter how I do so—whether I give you your freedom or make sure I'm the only face you see, you always end up leaving."

You shudder at his cryptic words. "Were you the one who cut off my wings?"

Castor waves a hand dismissively. "Only because you kept trying to run away with them. But they always regrow back once you're reborn." He pulls out a dagger, one you now understand why he always carries it with him.

"Dad, please..." you quietly plead, scrambling back in an attempt to stand up. "I'm sorry. We can let this go."

His eyes darken. "Not an option anymore, sweetie. You asked for answers, and you got them. Hey, maybe the twentieth time is the charm." He lunges for you, holding you down so he can lift his blade. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I promise it'll just feel like a pinch, and then you'll wake up good as new!" His expression is sweet and adoring, but also crazed.

Just as he brings the blade down and you squeeze your eyes shut, all your hear is Castor's groan of pain.

"(Y/n)!" Calliope yells, grabbing onto your hand and yanking you up.

Castor wipes the blood running down his nose, glaring at the two of your friends. "(Y/n), you made some friends, huh? Must've been sneaking out behind my back for a while if they're jumping in their own graves for you." He gets back to his feet and starts approaching. "Step away from my child before you really regret it."

"Let's go!" Osmond demands, opening up a portal in front of Calliope after she pulled you to your feet.

The three of you tumble in, right before Castor tries attacking you as well.

Then suddenly, you're back outside, standing in the forest where your kingdom stood tall. You can hear him scream in frustration from all the way out here, likely calling for guards and barking out orders.

"He knows magic too," you whisper. "He won't be too far behind."

"I can only make portals so far," Osmond murmurs. "We need to run. Now."

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I know princess reader is all the rage, but please consider the servant reader x knight:

You decide to bed him, hoping it will get him off of your back. Perhaps once he has had a taste, he will give up and go on to a different girl.

You propose the idea when you're alone in the kitchen with him, cleaning.

"You want me to bed you?" he asks, eating scraps that the royals barely touched.

"Only if you want to."

"You must've heard the rumors, then."

You pause before wiping down the counter.

"I've heard some things."

"From the ladies, I presume."

"Yes..."

"Have you considered that perhaps the rumors are not true?"

"I find it hard to believe that that you haven't bed at least one of the maids—"

"Or," he starts, holding up his hand, "perhaps the women have just been speaking to the stable boys? Perhaps the squires have seen me while I bathe and spread rumors to entice the women of the grounds."

"So you have not bed anyone?"

He pauses, rolling his shoulders.

"Not here."

"How many then?"

His tongue presses into his cheek.

"Two. One when I was young and foolish, another I intended to marry but she died from the plague."

You hum, nodding slow.

"And you? How many have you taken to bed?" You think.

"One. I also intended to marry him, but he died in battle." He nods, twisting his mouth. "So, you do not wish to bed me."

"I never said such a thing, my dear lady." He rises from the table. "I only want to bed you if you fancy me as I fancy you."

You swallow. He towers over you, making you feel so small in comparison.

"I cannot promise you love," you mutter, barely able to meet his eye. "I can only give you the night."

He's quiet. He seems to be thinking as he searches your face.

You guide him to your quarters, tiptoeing past the other servants' rooms before finding your own, locking the door behind you. You light a candle and covers the window.

He is undressing you before you realize.

When you are in bed with him, he is attentive, gentle. His hands are rough and calloused, but he touches you as if you are a teacup. Lips move their way up your legs, and you shiver at the contact.

When he presses his lips to your mound, you jolt.

"S-Sir!" you yell in a hush. "Where are you putting your mouth?!"

"Here," he says calmly, pressing a thumb to the lips of your cunt. "Where the heavens part."

"B-But why sir? Why would you put your mouth there?"

"Did your past lover never kiss you here?" he asks, eyeing you. You shake your head and he smirks. "Then I shall be the first to taste you from your fountain?" He inches closer, pressing his nose into you. "I hope to be the only to have you like this."

His tongue is sinful. It wiggles and squirms, pulling pleasure from places you did not know could feel so good. And when he sucks you into his mouth, by god, you see stars.

You unravel on his mouth more than you ever have in your life. You didn't think it was possible to feel such pleasure, and he hasn't even taken out his manhood.

When he does undress, your eyes widen.

"It won't fit."

"It will, my lady. We will make it fit."

And he does. He does make it fit after he stretches you with his fingers, your pleasure leaking down your ass.

You feel so, so full when he pushes inside, hands pushing against his shoulders. He shushes you when you whine, kissing along your neck.

"You feel divine, my lady."

"I feel as though I may burst." He chuckles low at that.

"Strange. I feel the same."

When he moves, you have to cover your mouth to quiet yourself. His thrusting does not falter no matter how you squirm beneath him. Each pump of his cock has you seeing white, eyes wide and rolling.

"My lady, my darling, my princess."

And it all comes crashing down. You realize that he is not there for you. He is using you while he thinks of the princess.

You feel sick.

"Please, take it out."

"What is wrong, my sweet? Your eyes are filled with tears. Does it hurt?"

"I do not want you here anymore."

"What has happened, my dear? Why are you being so cold?"

"Why do you care? Did you only agree to bed me so you could think of the princess? If you want her so badly, just go to her!"

He stops your hands from hitting him, pressing them down to your cot.

"My lady... do you think I was thinking of the princess?"

"You said 'my princess'."

"I..." His eyes search your face. "My lady, I was calling you my princess."

You blink, tears falling.

"W-What?"

"You are my princess. You, only you. I do not care for that detestable girl."

"You... You should not say such things about the princess—"

"Damn the princess. I do not care for her. I have never loved her or wanted to bed her. I am not with the princess, but I am with my princess. Do you understand me?"

You nod, in shock, gasping when he presses into you.

"Good. Now, may I return to pleasuring my princess?"

You nod quickly.