#not a thought behind those pale blue eyes

[youryurigoddess]

Super important context: the original 1793 flashback wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

The Roman taberna from the 41 AD ineffable meeting had hastily changed its decor to become a Parisian prison cell only due to budget cuts, when it became clear that the production team won’t be able to afford filming another crowd scene on location.

Here’s how the original version went down:

So we can assume that no, the Revolutionaries didn’t even bother to take Aziraphale to prison (or put handcuffs on him, for that matter), just led him straight to the guillotine to be executed.

Looking at his pretty, pretty shoes and the amount of lace able to feed a family of six for a month, it does make sense.

The whole adventure clearly had a positive impact on our angel outside of some delightfully demonic company and culinary experiences. That’s the last time we see him wearing such a bright outfit in public — even his summer suit during the Holy Water Argument of 1862 is much more toned down in comparison.

Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

[niilue]

—when you can't resist it and you spank vi—

cw: fem reader, funny and silly situation, drabble, mention of spank, vi ashamed.

ekko's hiding place was relatively quiet, except for the sound of metal tools clinking and the occasional scattered conversation. you’d been wandering around, trying to find something useful to do, but your attention kept drifting toward vi.

she was bent over a table, working on her gauntlets as usual. her movements were meticulous and focused, and the furrow in her brow made it clear she was completely absorbed in her task. her jacket rested on a nearby chair, leaving her fitted tank top on display, highlighting the defined lines of her shoulders and muscles.

but it wasn’t her tank top that caught your attention—it was her pants. vi always wore those long, dark pants, snug and fitted, as if they were made specifically for her. the way they clung to her body, outlining every curve, was almost mesmerizing.

and now, with her leaning over the table, all her weight resting on her arms, the fabric stretched in a way that made everything stand out even more. you couldn’t help but notice how the curve of her backside was perfectly outlined, firm and athletic.

for a moment, a mischievous spark ignited in your mind, growing quickly into a reckless idea.

"why not?" you thought to yourself, a sly grin spreading across your face.

you crept up behind her, careful not to make a sound on the metal floor. vi didn’t even notice your presence, too focused on adjusting some mechanism on her gauntlet.

the opportunity was perfect. without giving it too much thought, you raised your hand and delivered a slap to her backside so loud it echoed across the hideout, causing a few nearby heads to turn in surprise.

the impact made vi’s backside jiggle slightly, the material of her pants rippling briefly from the force before snapping back into place.

“WHAT THE FUCKKK?!” vi shouted, straightening up so fast she nearly knocked over the table. her hand immediately flew to her backside as she whipped around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and rage.

her cheeks, normally pale, were now tinged with a deep red, the flush crawling up her neck. you couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter, bending over as you tried to catch your breath.

“sorry, sorry!” you managed to say between giggles, though your tone was anything but apologetic. “i couldn’t resist!”

vi stared at you, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. she looked as though she was trying to process what had just happened, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t quite find the words. finally, she pointed a shaky finger at you.

“what the hell makes you think that was a good idea?!” she demanded.

“well…” you began, shrugging with a playful grin. “with those pants and that pose, you were practically begging for it.”

vi’s jaw dropped. her hands fell to her hips as she stared at you, clearly caught between laughing and yelling. she opted for yelling.

“begging for it? are you kidding me?! it hurt, you idiot!”

“Ah, come on, vi,” you said, trying to soften the moment. “it was a little token of affection.”

“that wasn't affection! that was a fucking attack,” she retorted, twitching slightly as if the sting was still present.

"i honestly didn't think it would move that much. it was the highlight of my day.” you replied, unable to keep a smile off your face.

“SHUT UP!” vi snapped, her voice cracking slightly as her blush deepened. her hands moved to cover her backside defensively, as if to shield it from another ambush.

“is it still stinging?” you asked, feigning innocence. “or was it just a really good hit?”

vi’s hands slowly dropped to her sides as she narrowed her eyes at you, her face now an unmistakable shade of red. for a moment, you thought she might lunge at you, but instead, she took a deep breath, her shoulders visibly tensing.

“get ready to run,” she growled, her voice dangerously low. “because when i catch you, you’re not walking away from this.”

“is that a challenge?” you teased, taking a step back.

“no,” vi said, her tone chilling. “it’s a damn promise.”

before you could say another word, vi started moving toward you. you did the only sensible thing: you bolted.

your laughter echoed through the hideout as vi chased after you, her growls of frustration barely audible over your hysterical giggling. you knew you were in trouble, but you couldn’t stop thinking about her flustered, embarrassed expression.

totally worth it.

[sparklyskies0]

𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 ౨ৎ m.s

pairings: badboy!bf!matt x goodgirl!virgin!reader

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) you and matt have been seeing each other for some time now. your parents don’t approve of him but you couldn’t care less─that’s the whole point, to prove that you’re no longer the little girl that follows the rules despite how it makes her feel. When your parents are away for the weekend, you invite matt over. Finally deciding to take the next step and give yourself to him completely.

warnings/disclaimers: smut, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions pain, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), nsfw..

As you awaited matt’s arrival, you paced around your dimly lit room. The smell of your vanilla scented candle filling the air. You fiddled with your fingers; you were nervous. Matt has came over countless of times, behind your parents back of course. And you were never as anxious as you are now. Because you knew, how this night was going to end. Both of you, tangled in your satin bedsheets, your naked form against his. You knew you were going to finally lose your virginity. Give him all of you.

Your relationship with matt has been going on for a couple months now. Behind your parents back and even sometimes in their face. They don't like matt at all, he's exactly the kind of guy they had warned you to stay away from. They have expectations for you, they want you to become a lawyer to follow in your mothers footsteps, marry a man they think is perfect for you and basically be unhappy. Being with a guy like matt, would simply wound that perfect life your parents want you to have. Your whole childhood was dedicated to making them happy; skipping your dance classes, which you desperately wanted to go to for those stupid dinners with their rich friends who did nothing but brag about how smart and capable their kids were, getting straight A's instead of playing outside at the park with the other kids. You were always afraid of getting dirty because your parents made you. You weren't allowed thrill or excitement. Because clean, perfect good girls who are going to law school don't get dirty, ever.

Matt was the bad boy. the whole school knew about his record and the amount of girls he slept with. He had tattoos and a motorcycle and never went to class or followed any rules whatsoever. Girls want to be with him and guys are afraid to cross him. You never wanted to speak to him ever, he was far too intimidating. But that's exactly why you wanted him so bad. He's the complete opposite of you, his world doesn't, shouldn't align with yours. Your parents freaked when you brought him home and you loved it.

After a couple minutes you were snapped out of your worried thoughts by a knock at your window. you turned around, meeting him. He crouched down outside of the dormer window. A sly smirk on his face. A wide grin plasters on your face as you walk towards the window, pulling it up and open. As soon as he fully sets inside he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist pulling you closer towards him.

You squeal at his action. Your arms wrapping around his neck. "why'd you come through the window? i unlocked the front door for you, y'know" you look at him.

"where's the fun in that?" he responds, causing a soft giggle to leave your lips. Your eyes glued to his, occasionally roaming over his features, which is something you do a lot.

His blue eyes that are sparkling in the dim room mixed with the soft moonlight blaring through the window. His soft pale skin, pinkish lips, long perfect nose. You were honestly obsessed. You could stare at him all day.

When people look at him, they see a boy with a bad reputation. drugs, motorcycles, tattoos and fighting, someone who's going nowhere in life. But you don't, you see an actually sweet (when he wants to be) guy, who's trying but also can't help but rebel against everyone's wishes. They believe he's bad news, so he's giving them bad news.

You're almost starting to believe that you're in love with him. you know you are. But you won't tell him that, at least not yet. But you trust him so much, with everything. You know you're ready, ready to take all of him in every way.

Youve seen him naked before, and you know how big he is. Which is why your hearts beating so fast out of your chest right now. "what're we doin tonight, doll? a movie?, please don't say baking cus i don't think I'm mentally prepared for that this time" he says.. The last time you forced him to bake with you ending up with him burning his hand and a mediocre cake. You don't show it but your heart kind of flutters at the fact he didn't mention anything sexual despite the countless times he fingered you and ate you out, he doesn't expect it to happen all the time. But he didn't know that none of the things he listed were on your agenda for tonight.

you tilt your head slightly, "actually, i was thinking..." you trail off, hoping he can answer for you. his face changes, the smirk on his face growing wider. You feel him tug you closer. "oh.. i see" he brings his head down to your neck, placing a soft kiss to the flesh. His lips continue to pepper kisses all over your neck, and collarbone. your head falls back slightly, biting your lip.

a soft hum escapes your lips as you bring your hands to cup his face, bringing him to look at you. his eyes already filled with desire. "i think I'm ready" you state

you watch his face contort in confusion, instead of elaborating further you press his lips against yours. His breath hitches into the kiss, a deep sigh escaping both of you.

you back him up, towards your bed. When the back of his legs hit the furniture, he falls down onto it. The kiss yet to be broken. You climb on top of him. You're not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, but you like it. It's perfect to have, especially for tonight. Your thighs straddle his sides, you break the kiss, your lips leaving trails over his jaw and neck. His hands grip your waist, loving whatever has gotten into you. He didn't know yet that it was going to be him.

You grind yourself onto him, moaning softly. He lets out a few low groans himself. "i want you inside of me.." you whisper moaned by his ear, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine. Once he registered your words, his grip on your hips got tighter. you continued to kiss his jaw, about to make your way to his lips when he stops you. "wait-what?" he speaks. You lift your head, looking at him.

you bite your lip. "ive been thinking..and i, i want you to fuck me. Like for real this time" you say. "im ready"

Matt's face softens. he lets out a soft sigh. "You think you're ready or are you actually ready?" he asks, with genuine concern

You nod "i am ready. i swear... i want you. i...i trust you" you say softly, you mean every word. He lets out another soft sigh. "i don't wanna force you to do anything, you don't have to do this..we can keep doin what we always do" he says. He's deep-down terrified right now, he doesn't want to say or do the wrong thing, he doesn't want to scare you or make you regret it. You two always just stuck to oral. he knew you were inexperienced, and you were pretty open about being a virgin and wanting to trust someone enough. He's never pressured you, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, no matter what.

"matt i promise, i want to" you cup his face. your eyes glued to his. he was finally convinced. licking his lips he speaks, "well in that case.." he sits up, flipping you over so now he's hovered over you.

he looks down at you, the way your eyes glisten, the way your chest rises and falls. By the look on your face, he can tell how ready you were, and that only egged him on.

His head dropped down to your exposed neck, trailing hot wet kisses down to your collarbone, then to the top of your chest. You let out soft moans at the way his mouth worships your body, the way his kisses are gentle yet hungry. He kisses down to the middle of your stomach. When he stops, he looks up at you. "take this off for me, doll" his voice hoarse. He tugs at the bottom of your tank top, you bite your lip as you look down at him.

You arch your back to assist him in removing the tiny top. He lifts it up, revealing your breasts, perky and perfect.. for him. The sight made him moan "so beautiful" he doesn't hesitate to bring his head back up to latch onto the flesh. A sharp moan escapes your mouth. His tongue circling around your hard nipple. he trails a couple kisses in between your breasts licking along your skin. It doesn't take long for him to give your other breast some attention as well. He trailed his mouth down to your lower stomach, stopping at the top of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you, a grin growing on his face. "this is about you doll, all you" his voice low in a mumble. His fingers hook your bottoms. bringing them down slowly, your white lace panties revealed to him. You squirm slightly, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he works.

Once your shorts were brought down to your ankles you kick them off. Matt places kisses up your thighs, his hands spreading your legs apart. after your legs are as open as he wants them to be he stands up. "take those off." he says his head nodding to the clothing that's blocking what he considers heaven. You obey, removing them from your body. While you do that, matt pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the room. He's now shirtless in front of you. "get yourself nice and wet for me, doll" he says, his hands coming down to unbuckle and tug his pants along with his underwear down.

You take your fingers into your mouth, getting your index and middle finger wet, bringing them down to your already dripping core.. wetting the flesh more. You run your fingers along your folds, moaning at how his cock springs out when his pants fall down to his ankles.

He strokes himself, the precum visible on his pink aroused tip. he makes his way back to you. "im gonna stretch you out with my fingers first okay?" he says softly. You nod, your eyes on him. He's fingered you before, but this time it feels far more different.

He settles himself between your legs again. wetting his fingers with his mouth before bringing them across your slimy folds. You moan at his fingers, your hips rolling against them naturally. He eases his fingers into you, causing you to hiss slightly.

He continues to push his fingers inside you, stretching you out. You moan at the feeling. As soon as you adjusted his fingers curled and he began to finger fuck your tight cunt.

"mm fuck" you moan, your body arching up. "yea baby, y'like that?" he murmurs, his fingers keeping up his torturous pace. Your moaning becomes more louder, and struggled as you feel the pit in your stomach grow. "mm shit just imagine how you'll sound with my cock inside you"

His fingers pick up. Your orgasm crashes over you, you let out a loud strong moan as you release over his fingers. "mm..thats my girl" he hums, his fingers still pumping inside you slowly, riding out your high. Once his fingers leave your core he brings them to his mouth, soaking up your juices and licking his fingers clean. He brings his head back down to your center, his tongue comes out to taste you. Dragging in between your folds, sucking up the rest of your juices and wetness. After he licks you clean he leaves a kiss to your pretty pussy.

He comes up, hovering over you once again. "you ready doll?" he asks, his eyes scanning for any doubt, wanting this to be just as real and perfect for you than him. When you nod, your eyes looking up at him, almost pleading for him; he knew.

"okay, its gonna hurt, but only for a second...tell me if its too much and we'll stop" he speaks. letting out a nervous sigh. "hold onto me baby"

You bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you gently, yet passionately. He was waiting for this moment, and so were you.

As he kisses you, his hand grips your leg, lifting it up more, he does the same to your other one. He's settled deeply in between you now.

His hand latches onto his member, lining it with your entrance. His tip rubbing teasingly against your wet glistening folds. He places multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw before attaching your lips back together. Wanting to be able to swallow the sounds of your pain for you as he slips in.

He slowly pushes himself inside of you, his thick member barely in yet you still broke the kiss with your hiss of pain. "shh shh i know doll i know" he comforts against your lips. continuing to kiss you

"just relax.. i got you, m' right here"

he continues to push himself inside you, your moans of pain honestly breaking his heart. But this is what you wanted, and he knew it will subside eventually.

Once he was fully in. he stayed still, wanting to give you time to adjust to him. "its okay, you okay?" he lifts his head up to look at you. His thumb coming to wipe away the tears at the corner of your beautiful eyes. "i-it just hurts..im okay though" you admit.

Matt nods understandably, "we can stop if you want" He gently caresses your face

You shake your head, "no...no i want this" you say

you suddenly feel the pain that was once invading you slip away. You had adjusted to him, to his size, to the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. "you can move.." you speak

And with that, he thrusts into you slowly. You let out a soft sigh, the pleasure slowly creeping back into you.

"you feel so good babydoll" he hums, the feeling of you clenching around him. So innocent, and so his.

"mm matt" you moan, as he thrusts his cock into you at a slow sensual pace. "it feel good, doll? my cock deep inside you...is this what you wanted?" his voice low

You nails dig into the back of his neck as you hold onto him. The pleasure, the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out too good to bare.

Your moans were like music to his ears, giving him the permission and encouragement he needed to increase his movements and move into you faster. "o-oh fuck" your mouth opens wide. His hand reaches for your thigh, lifting it up more for him to fuck you deeper.

He continously hits a certain spot inside you that has you squirming underneath him. "mm just like that doll, your s'good" he moans

"tell me how it feels baby...how does my cock feel inside you"

"fuck matt, it feels s'good.." you moan. you pull his face closer, nipping on his shoulder to silence yourself. "mm fuck dont do that baby," his hand cups the side of your face "i wanna hear you..hear how good im making you feel" he looks you in your eye.

His pace quickens, wanting to bring you to the edge. He can feel it, with the way you clench around him, the squelching sounds being the tell of how wet and close you are.

"i want you to cum doll, cum on my cock please" he pleads

your eyes squeeze closed as you feel a pit in your stomach, you've felt them before.. but this one feels stronger. his cock so deep inside you making you feel things that were far more foreign to you before.

"no no no, open your eyes f'me doll. let me see you" he groans. you open your eyes, meeting his lusty half lidded bedroom eyes. "look at me while you cum on my cock"

He continued to thrust into you deeply, your legs trembling from the sensations. His hands let go of your sides, coming to find yours from around his neck. He intertwined your fingers, holding both your hands. He brought them to both sides of you. Holding them tightly, not wanting to let go. Pinning your hands down he smashes his lips against yours. His hips moving at rapid speed, slamming into you.

You squeeze his hands, your moans muffled and uncontrolled as he swallows them.

You break the kiss moaning loudly, your breath shaking and uncontrolled "ah.. ah fuck im cumming!" you announce. that only made matt let out a gutteral groan and fuck into you faster.

"shh.. yeah thats it baby..come on doll" He encourages, kissing your neck, leaving bites and marks. You moan loudly, your body shuddering as you cum.

Matt immediately takes you into a kiss, swallowing up your beautiful sounds. He was right behind you, one single thrust and he stilled inside you. The feeling of his thick warm load shooting inside you. You could barely keep your eyes open. Trembling from your release, and still feeling matt fuck his cum into you. Riding out both of your highs.

His face buried into your neck, his own body shuddering against you. "you did so good doll...my good girl" He places wet kisses to your flesh.

He waits a moment for you to calm down, before slipping out of you. You gasp at his action. your body jolting up. Matt winces for you, "i know, m'sorry" he apologizes knowing how sensitive you must be

He collapses next to you. you turn on your side facing him, your head resting on your hands. He leans over, placing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. "you okay?" He asks. His voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod "yeah, I'm okay..im happy" you answer, the corners of your mouth curing slightly

"good." he says, relief taking over him. "was it..how you imagined?" he asks, needing to know if there's a chance of regret.

"Better." you smile.

He returns a smile back, his hands trailing the curves of your side. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up"

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

this is so long lmfaoa

obsessed with matt as a bad boy

[sublimitymp3]

Pray for me

Pairing ✵ Gwayne Hightower/Niece!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, littleee bit of crybaby!reader, smut (frottage, oral F receiving, fingering, and slight dacryphilia), and religious themes

Word count ✵ 2.5k

Summary ✵ Your uncle Gwayne arrives from Oldtown at your brother's call, and pays a visit to you while you pray.

"Your mother told me I might find you in here,"

You whipped your head around to see the source of the voice that disturbed you from your prayers and saw none other than your uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower. He had finally come from Oldtown, answering your brother's call for assistance in his war.

"It is the seventh day, I thought I ought to pray. Especially now..." You explain with a small smile. You stood from your kneeling position on the cold, unyielding sept floor so you may look upon him. Your face twists into a cringe as you feel the bruises from kneeling for so long begin to form on your knees, and you are sure they'll be an ugly purple color later. Relaxing your features, you finally turn on your heel to face your uncle. It has been so long since you've seen him.

Too long.

He's as handsome as you remember, with his auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and the faint freckles that dust his face. How you wished you could map kisses along those freckles, connecting them with a trail of where your lips had been. But your faith and virtue prevent you from giving in to the desire. Besides, you are sure that if he ever found out you ever thought such things, he'd look at you with such revulsion that you'd crumble to the floor in shame.

He steps closer to you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly. "You have your mother's beauty, but your father's features," he hums, tweaking your nose playfully before wrapping you in a firm hug. It is not lost on you the slight curt tone his voice took on at the mention of your late father, but you dismiss it.

"And tell me, how have you been fairing during these trying times, hm? Don't tell me you hole yourself up in this sept all day." He teases, bringing a feeling of embarrassment over you for he had guessed correctly. Recently, you do spend the brunt of your days at the sept, praying to almost every facet of the Seven for mercy, strength, wisdom, and safety. Today, you were praying at the statue of the Mother, and after you lit a candle for her altar, you prayed for mercy and protection for your family members. It is one of the few things that brings you comfort nowadays, your faith in the Seven who are One.

"Well, there isn't much I can do," you shrug, letting a small frown tug at your lips. "It's not like I can sit in on a council meeting, and mother refuses to let me on my dragon. She seems perfectly content in keeping me idle and useless," you remark with a tone of annoyance, one that draws a low laugh from your uncle.

"Your mother means well, sweet niece. You're better suited here, getting favor from the gods as opposed to being in the midst of battle. Believe me, it is a bloody, nasty affair, and you are far too delicate to join in," he grips your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, keeping your lilac gaze trained on his ocean-blue eyes.

You cannot even think of a response to his dismissing words, as you are too busy trying to push away the familiar ache you get between your thighs. It always comes at the most inconvenient of times, like when you watch the men in the training yard move, sweaty and shirtless, or when you spy on your brother coupling with a serving girl. All you know is that it persists for ages, and no amount of praying stops it.

But you can only try.

"S-Shall we pray, uncle? So that the Mother may grant us safety, of course," you propose, shifting nervously on your feet. Perhaps it is the light flush that has appeared on your face, or how you try to discreetly press your thighs together for some form of relief, but Gwayne knows. He always knows.

To save yourself some embarrassment, you resume your kneeling position before the statue and altar of the Mother, clasping your hands together in the standard praying position. You expect your uncle to kneel beside you, or just leave the sept all together, so you are quite surprised when you feel him loom behind you.

His firm chest swiftly presses against your back, and his larger and calloused hands come to rest over your softer ones, and you find yourself trapped in this embrace. Whether it is to your delight or misfortune, you cannot decide. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently beg for forgiveness for the unseemly thoughts that run through your brain at his actions. 'Who thinks such perverse things in a holy place?' you think, mentally chastising yourself.

"Well, go on then, sweet one. Pray for me," he whispers, and you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Gwayne is enjoying this, enjoying this little game of denial you two play. Of course, it is wrong for him to want to take you in the lewdest positions, to have you scream his name so everyone knows who is fucking you so good, but he has restrained himself all this time. Patience is a great virtue, yes, but he wishes to reap his reward for remaining ever so patient now.

"M-Mother Above, have mercy on us all. I beg you for your protection, and for you to-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as your uncle buries his face into the crook of your neck, and gently nips at the soft skin there. He begins pressing himself against your ass, making your cheeks flush even more.

Noticing your sudden pause, he pulls back to look at your blushing face with a devilish smirk. "Well? Go on, don't mind me," he says before going right back to nipping and sucking at your neck. It is impossible for you to stay concentrated on your prayers as he continues, and you resign to praying in your head as your words fail you.

Your prayers only falter as you feel something hard poking against your backside, prodding and bumping against you relentlessly. Gwayne begins peppering kisses from your neck and to your jawline before tugging your head back gently, and letting his lips brush against yours. He only pauses as you tilt your head a little bit away in reluctance.

"U-Uncle, this is wrong. N-Not here, we cannot do this-"

"Shh, enough with that. It isn't wrong, not in the slightest. It's not wrong, not when you're meant for me. Surely even the gods will understand," he mumbles against the softness of your lips. You feel in that little moment of pause that his are a bit chapped, most likely from days of riding on horseback and camping in the wilderness. But it matters little then.

Once his lips are on yours, you cannot help the cascade of little moans that leaves you. His mouth is overwhelming and easily overpowers your rather inexperienced one, and you feel his hands move from their position over yours. One hand moves to your neck, and the other to your breast, fondling it through your dress as he continues humping you from behind.

You are thankful the sept is empty today. If word of what you do now reached your mother, of the depravity you partake in with her own brother, you're sure she'd have you sent far away to become a septa.

With a final peck to your lips, your uncle stands. He drinks in the sight of you like this; cheeks flushed, hair a bit messy, clothes rumpled, and swollen lips, all from him, of course. He swears then and there he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Up you go, princess," he mumbles, before picking you up with ease and setting you to sit on the edge of the altar. He messily pushes away the candles and various offerings left there to make room for you, and you cringe at the disrespect, disrespect born from lust and hastiness.

The new position allows for you to be relatively level with his face, and he soon hikes your dress up and stands between your parted thighs. As he begins to rub his erection against your clothed cunt, you grab onto his forearms to ground yourself.

His erection rubs against your dampened smallclothes, brushing against your bud and your folds. With each grind of his hips, you feel something like a fire burning through your bones. But with your clothes acting like a barrier, and the slightly awkward angle, it's not enough for you. Even with your unfamiliarity to such actions, you still know it is not enough.

"M-More, more. Uncle, I need more." you whine, pulling him closer by the laces of his breeches, eliciting a sly smirk from him.

"Well well, I never thought I'd see the day where my own niece was begging for me like a whore." he teases, making you frown at the crude and cruel word.

A cruel word indeed, and you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes watering, and your nose instinctively sniffling. Gwayne's smirk falters for a moment as he watches little tears spill from your eyes, but only for a moment.

"Aw, come now sweet girl, don't take offense. It was all in good fun, yes?" he coos to you, and you feel him begin to lick your tears away, catching the salty evidence of your crying on his tongue. "But oh, darling one, how pretty you look when you cry. Are you gonna cry more with what I do to you, little princess?" he asks with a mocking little pout, before kissing back down your neck.

You've always been a bit of a sensitive girl, everyone knows this. The smallest hint of frustration or anger to you, or even words spoken to you all in jest send you easily into tears. What you were not expecting was for them to be met with something other than the typical annoyed shushing you are used to receiving when you begin to cry.

Soon, Gwayne is kneeling before you, and pulling your wet smallclothes down. His lips pepper light kisses along your soft inner thighs, teasing you once more. "So wet...all for me, little princess?" he asks before nudging his nose against your bud, making you jolt with pleasure. He inhales your sweet scent. 'The scent of a wet virgin', he thinks crudely to himself.

You keep yourself propped up with your arms, and you look down at him between your thighs. Both of your legs have been thrown over his shoulders, and the instinct to wiggle your core closer to him grows. With a knowing gaze, Gwayne looks up at you with a smirk, before his tongue darts out and he dives in.

He eats you like a starved man.

His tongue licks stripes along your core, lapping up your arousal hungrily. His mouth works expertly, and all you can do is sit there helplessly and moan. Your little squeals and high-pitched whines sound adorable to him, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations, of course, make you jump again.

"My my, little niece, aren't you quite the sensitive one? Is your cunny as sensitive as your heart, hm?" he teases, as he continues to lick and suckle you. You cannot respond, too incapacitated by the pleasure his mouth brings you. It is nothing like you've ever felt before. Even your pillow or your hands don't feel as good as this.

"U-Uncle, uncle Gwayne, it feels s'good," you practically babble out as the lewd sounds of him slurping against you echoes around the sept. Your hand comes down to grip at his auburn hair, tugging him closer to your cunt. You care not anymore if this depravity is sullying a holy place, or if the gods watch with disapproval. There's always time to repent, after all.

The little pain you yanking his hair brings him makes him groan against your puffy folds, adding only to the stimulation you feel. "Yeah? Feels good? Oh, baby, you have no idea..." he murmurs, leaving you a little confused at his choice of words.

But you soon find out what exactly he means.

His mouth moves to focus only on your sensitive bud, sucking on it gently while he introduces two fingers to your wet folds. His fingers dance along your slit, dragging up and down in a slow, almost torturous manner.

You cry and squirm against him, greedily pushing his face right against your cunt. He heeds your signal, and finally pushes his fingers inside your velvety walls.

The stretch and feeling of something penetrating you are new and utterly foreign, but with the added stimulation his mouth still gives, the uncomfortableness of it all soon washes away to make room for pleasure. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, careful to not hurt you as he works you open.

Once he is sure you are ready, only then does he move his fingers faster. Your thighs squeeze around his head with the intensity of it all, and he has to wrench them back apart. "I can't move if you're trying to block me, sweetling," he chuckles, earning a sheepish "sorry" from you.

As he continues his ministrations, his fingers finally brush against and find that spongy sweet spot hidden up you. He begins to nudge against it with his fingertips, making you gush your arousal all over his face. You've never felt such an intense and yet wonderful feeling in your life, and soon you find it all beginning to build up and crescendo.

His free hand massages and strokes your hips gently, and rubs circles over your belly a little, just to soothe you. He can feel your walls tightening up, and how your thighs tremble and shake around his head. "You can do it, baby, you can do it. Go on, sweet niece," he coos, finally sending you over the edge.

With a loud cry, you tremble and feel such intense pleasure crashing over you like the waves during a tumultuous seastorm. You chant his name, worshipping him as if he were a god.

Once your peak washes over you, you slump against the base of the statue of the Mother. Gwayne promptly stands, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Perhaps I should have you every night instead of wine." he smiles, before thumbing stray tears that rest on your flushed cheeks away.

He wipes his mouth with his forearm, before kissing you once more. You can taste yourself on your tongue. "I have to go now, sweet one. Pray to the gods for me, will you? And when I come back, we can pray together again. Wouldn't you like that?" he grins, cupping your face in his hands.

A knowing smile forms on your kiss-swollen lips as you understand the insinuations of his words. As he rides off to fight your brother's war, you will remain praying in the sept, longing for the day he will return and come to pray with you again.

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[latenightdaydreams]

Crazy thought… but konig with a shy fem ready that’s insecure about their coochie 🫠 I got too much cooch for those cute Victoria secret panties bruh 😭 phat coochie a man we have the meats

From on phatty to an other, I understand😏

König x Shy!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, insecure, phat pussy, oral

1.3k word count

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.

You’ve been with König for five months now and things have recently gotten sexual between the two of you. His body is perfect, his cock is huge, and the sex is perfect. The only thing is you don’t let him finger you, eat you out, or see you without pants with the lights on. Your pussy is thick, fat, puffy…it’s big. You’ve always had trouble finding cute panties that could fit and have always been embarrassed by the mound they make in leggings and other tight pants.

You’re too embarrassed to tell König why you don’t want him to touch you or see you. He is of course upset; he loves you and your body. He wants to touch your clit and eat you out, finger you, but you won’t let him. So, he has a plan to get you to let him.

Since he has a key to your apartment, he got there before you got home and set up a romantic date night for the both of you. He spread rose petals from the front door to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he has candles set up along the counter and around the edges of the bathtub. He found your favorite scent in a bubble bath as well as finding soft and pillowy his and hers robe set for you both.

He sees on your phone’s location that you’re almost home so he rushes into the bedroom and takes off his shirt and pulls off his pants. He looks at himself in the mirror and checks himself out, making sure he looks good for you. Leaving the bedroom, he goes to the kitchen and fills two glasses with wine. He waits by the door for you to come in.

You open the door to see König standing there with a big smile and wine in his hands. Your eyes travel over his body, appreciating his form. Closing the door behind you, you kick your shoes off and walk closer to him.

“What’s the special occasion?” You ask with a giggle in your voice.

König hands you one of the glasses and leans down to kiss you. His pale blue eyes looking at your sweet face.

“I wanted to have a special evening with you, Liebling.” He reaches out for your hand and walks with you, following the trail of red rose petals.

You follow them to your bathroom, a warm bubble bath and candles all around the room. You couldn’t help but to smile and feel all warm and bubbly on the inside, no one has ever done something like this for you before. No one has gone out of their way to make you feel special.

“This is beautiful König…” You walk in and sip some wine.

“Also,” he closes the door to show you the robes hanging behind the door. “They actually had my size.” König says with a big smile.

“You did such a good job babe!” You wrap one arm around König and hug him.

“Let's undress Liebling.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it on the sink counter.

You begin to peel off your top and König’s eyes drop down to your breast. He watches closely as you pull your bra off next, he can’t help but to smile. You begin to pull down your jeans, but you turn away from König. He frowns watching you do this.

“Liebling, don’t hide from me,” He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You know I’m shy.”

“But why? Can you help me understand? It felt… normal on my cock, so what is the issue?”

“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it, just…aesthetically isn’t pretty.”

König looks visibly confused and moves back. He turns your body to face him, his eyes drop to your breasts before looking up to your eyes.

“I’ll love your body no matter what.”

You shrug and look away, feeling embarrassed.

“Please let me decide how I feel about your body.” His hands cup your face and bring your gaze up to meet his.

His eyes look so sweet and genuine. You take a deep breath and then nod your head. König smiles and kisses you.

“Ja?

“Yeah…”

König steps back and lets you finish undressing. He watches with anticipation and you pull your pants down and expose your purple cotton panties. His eyes glued to the mound underneath the fabric. You take a deep breath and then fully pull your panties down. My god. You’re absolutely beautiful. König’s boner is rock hard and undeniable under his boxer. He reaches for his waist band and pulls them down.

You stand slightly embarrassed as he looks at you, his face full of lust. He walks towards you and puts your hand in his, pulling him towards you. His arms wrapping around you.

“Are you ready to get in, Meine Liebling?”

You nod and smile up at him. Both of you are walking towards the tub. He gets in first and makes room for you on his lap. You step in and König watches as your legs part to see your beautiful labia and he just thinks about burying his face in that soft looking pussy.

You rest your body back on his and he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against him. You rest your head back on his chest and allow yourself to melt into him. His hands move up and begin caressing your breast and playing with your nipples. His hard cock is pressed up against your rear.

.

.

Once you both step out of the bath, he grabs your robe and wraps it around you, your eyes glued to the way his cock bounced as he walks. He wraps his around himself as well, grabbing the wine glasses and hanging you yours. He watches you take a sip as he takes one himself.

Grabbing your hand, he leads you out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. “Lay down.” His voice is low and sensual.

You do as he says and lay down in bed. He walks over to you and slowly unties your robe, exposing your soft body to him. Instinctively you reach down to your pussy and place a hand to cover it.

König gently moved your hand out of the way, “I think it’s about time I teach you to love this beautiful pussy Schatz.”

“But it’s so fat.” You say with a nervous giggle.

“That’s what makes it so yummy. It’s thick and juicy…just perfect.”

He grabs your legs and moves them over his shoulders as he gets on his knees in front of you. You look down and feel bashful as you see his eyes stuck on your cunt. He begins to kiss the chubby mount of your pussy before kissing down. You started to let out tiny sounds of pleasure and it excited him.

The feeling of your soft pillowy pussy on his face is godly. He presses his face into it and takes a deep breath but sliding his tongue up your folds. It’s a shame that you’ve hidden such a precious part of you from him for so long. He is instantly obsessed with your smell, taste, and look. He pulls back to look at it, pulling apart your folds to see your tight little entrance that stretches so perfectly to take his cock. Fuck.

“Such a beautiful fucking pussy.” He says quietly as he moves one hand to the top and squeezes the soft fat mound.

König leans in and begins to kiss you before lapping like a thirsty dog at your cunt. Your body trembles as you look down at him, your chubby lips surrounding his lips as his eyes are closed just enjoying you.

“Oh god König, too much.” You try to wiggle away but König just grabs your arms tighter and pulls your legs back, bringing your ass into the air as he shakes his face back and forth, coving himself in your slick arousal.

König has missed out on months of giving you the attention you need and deserve, he will be here all night.

[acciotaitlynn]

⋆˙⟡ As a humble lady's maid to the princess of Philos, you often find yourself crossing paths with her charming brother, Prince Xavier. His piercing blue eyes and mischievous smile never fail to catch your attention, and soon, he begins to pursue you relentlessly. His courtship is overwhelming and exciting, but as you grow closer, you realize his intentions may not align with your own desires. You can't bear the thought of living a life where your love must be kept hidden, so you make the difficult decision to end things with him, breaking his heart in the process. As Xavier stands at a crossroads between his love for you and his duty as future king, he wrestles with the weight of choosing between tradition and true love, unsure if he can bear to live without you or if he will risk everything to have you by his side as queen.

“This flower, much like the one who now holds it, is unique and precious beyond measure," he continues, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of those around you. Stepping closer, his next words are meant only for your ears, a secret shared under the watchful eyes of the court. "And just like this flower, you were meant to be mine."

── .✦ prince xavier & fem!reader

── .✦ sexual content, 18+, porn w plot, forbidden love, Angst, there's a wedding! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ i gave xav a sis & parents, really possessive/dom xavier + sub fem!reader, sweet & spicy, dancing, masturbation, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱ fingering, public sex/consummation ceremony, exhibitionism, slight breeding kink/mentions of pregnancy, xav is... experienced ¬‿¬ teasing, edging, a little marking/claiming, kitty play, bondage/sight deprivation, sensory play, sadomasochism, light paddling, face-fucking, angel/my love/good girl/princess & my prince/your highness used, pls let me know if I missed anything importantㅤ♡

⊹ 22k wc; i even cut some ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ i really hope you like it <3

You thought you had known true beauty—the kind that steals your breath and makes you question all you hold true. You were certain you had seen it in the wild, untamed waves of a stormy sea or in the soft glow of a fire as you warmed your damp body later that night. But now, perfection stands before you with pale silver hair that glimmers in the sunlight and delicate features that seem almost ethereal. He's like a sculpture come to life, every contour and curve crafted with impeccable precision. As he bends over a budding bloom in the palace gardens, his graceful movements seem to match the gentle swaying of the nearby trees. The contrast between his pale skin and the vibrant blue forget-me-nots he holds is striking, highlighting his flawless complexion.

His long, slender fingers—every bit as achingly beautiful as the rest of him—reach out to gently caress the petals of the flower, almost as if it were a precious jewel. The intense urge to move closer to him nearly overwhelms you, but a sliver of reason remains, reminding you to maintain your composure. So instead, you retreat silently, seeking cover behind a nearby tree to watch from a distance. Though you’ve only served as the crown princess’s lady’s maid for a week and haven’t yet met everyone in her circle, there is no mistaking this man's identity—he’s her older brother, Xavier. And in this moment, surrounded by nature's splendor and with such a breathtaking sight before you, you understand why she always speaks so highly of him. He truly is a vision of beauty and gentleness beyond compare.

A voice inside you screams in warning to stay hidden, predicting that any interaction with the prince before you will result in a catastrophic change to your existence. Your heart races as the fear takes hold, containing the unknown terror that grips your mind and soul. A powerful magnetic force seems to pull at every fiber of your being, connecting you to the prince standing before you through an invisible thread. Overwhelming panic consumes you, pushing you back towards the safety of the palace at lightning speed. With each step away from Xavier, you pray for the unexplainable connection to break, desperate for it to end before it destroys you completely.

A sudden, honeyed warmth washes over Xavier, penetrating deep into his bones and drawing his attention towards your retreating figure. With each step you take towards the grand castle looming in the distance, he feels a thrilling rush of energy coursing through him. His fingers tingle with anticipation as they release the delicate flower they were holding, almost reaching out towards you unconsciously as the heavy doors close behind you with a resounding thud.

Xavier is struck by the sheer beauty of your presence. Akin to the way you felt upon seeing him, it’s as though he's witnessing something truly perfect for the first time. The way the sunlight caresses your silky hair and smooth skin sends shivers down his spine. But it's not just your physical appearance that captivates him - it's your radiant aura that draws him in, beckoning him to pluck a delicate pale pink flower from its resting place before darting towards you with a renewed sense of urgency. His feet carry him faster than ever before, driven by an overwhelming desire to be near you.

As he strides confidently through the grand hall, every eye is drawn to him like moths to a flame. Some curious, some envious, and others full of surprise and confusion at his sudden halt before you. It’s rare to see their prince show any interest in a woman past those he seeks out for carnal pleasures, and even then, he lacks emotion in the encounters that are merely a means to an end.

As you stand there in your humble working-class uniform, you can't help but feel self-conscious under the jealous stares and deprecating glares from those around you. This was exactly why you had tried so desperately to avoid this encounter. The grand hall's luxurious air only emphasizes the stark contrast between your simple attire and the opulence surrounding you. The chandeliers above cast a warm glow on everyone in attendance, highlighting their extravagant clothing and elaborate jewelry. You feel like a small pebble in a sea of diamonds and silk, but despite it all, you hold your head high and meet the prince's piercing gaze with determination.

Xavier's heart races and his mind goes blank as he stands before you. He can barely remember how to think or breathe, completely consumed by your presence. His piercing azure eyes scan every detail of your face, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he basks in the warmth radiating from you. Despite his usual guarded demeanor, he feels himself melting under your gaze, giving in to a vulnerability he never knew he had.

As soon as your eyes meet, his grin widens into the most charming, heart-stopping expression of joy you've ever seen. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his gaze lingers on you, admiring every inch of your being. Your eyes pass over the critical faces around you before settling back on him. It's then that you blurt out, "my prince..."

It's a vulnerable moment, one that lays bare your feelings for him. And as if reading your mind, he can see the shame and sadness in your voice as you question whether he needs help with something. His heart clenches at the thought of causing you pain, and he realizes that perhaps this introduction should have been saved for a more private moment.

But it's too late now. The curious gazes of those around make it clear that no one will forget what they've witnessed here today. And news of Xavier's newfound interest in you will likely spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom before the sun sets. Despite all of this, he can’t resist the urge to get closer to you. He shakes his head softly, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red. "I saw you, and I just..." He trails off, struggling to find the right words before finally admitting, "The thought of you getting away from me was unbearable."

As he reaches out to tuck the delicate pink flower behind your ear, his fingers brush against your skin with a feather-light touch. You feel a sudden warmth spread through your body at his gentle gesture, and you can't help but be drawn in by the intensity of his gaze. "For you," he murmurs, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for refusal.

A small smile graces your lips in response, and he feels a surge of satisfaction at having brought even the slightest joy to your face. His fingers linger against your cheek as he pulls away, unable to resist the urge to touch you just a little longer. "This flower, much like the one who now holds it, is unique and precious beyond measure," he continues, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of those around you. Stepping closer, his next words are meant only for your ears, a secret shared under the watchful eyes of the court. "And just like this flower, you are meant to be mine."

The possessiveness and determination in his declaration send a shiver down your spine, the weight of his words and their significance settling deep within your core. Your heart races as you struggle to find the right words in response. "Your Highness..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to compose yourself. "I'm honored by your words and this beautiful gift," you finally manage to stammer out, your gaze dropping to the floor before lifting to meet his steady stare. In this moment, all that matters is him and the invisible thread that seems to pull you together. The intensity in his expression ignites a fire within you, a yearning for something that seems unattainable yet irresistible. But as much as you crave him and this forbidden connection between you two, the judgmental glares and expectations of the court weigh heavily on your mind. "We both know that's not possible," you murmur, attempting to make your way past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your sister is expecting me..." His grip on your wrist tightens ever so slightly, stopping you in your tracks.

The heat of his touch sends a surge of electricity through your body, paralyzing you despite the warning bells ringing in your mind. "Wait," he whispers desperately, his ocean blue eyes searching yours with pleading intensity. His thumb traces circles on the soft underside of your wrist, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason and logic.

"Don't deny what's between us. It's as real as the ground we stand on and as tangible as the air we breathe. I know you can feel it too," he asserts, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer to you.

Every fiber of your being is drawn towards him, yearning for his touch and his words to be true. But a part of you still knows better, knows the danger and consequences that come with giving into this forbidden connection. With trembling breaths, you meet his gaze once more, your resolve weakening under the weight of his unwavering passion. Fighting against the surge of emotions within you, you force out a lie through gritted teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about, Your Highness… Please..."

Your denial hangs heavily in the charged air between you, but your rapid pulse beneath Xavier's fingers betrays your true desires. A knowing smirk plays on his lips as he releases your wrist, though not completely letting go. "Very well," he concedes with a hint of amusement lacing his velvety voice. Stepping back, he gives you the space you claim to need, but his piercing gaze never leaves yours. "If that's what you choose to believe, then I'll respect it... for now."

His words send a shiver down your spine and leave an ache in your chest as he loosens his hold on you. With a graceful bow that leaves you breathless, he steps aside to let you pass. "But this isn't goodbye," he adds with a sly smile, his voice carrying a taunting promise that stirs something deep within you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you walk away, a physical presence that consumes your thoughts and sets your heart racing. Clutching the delicate pink flower he gave you, you hold it close to your chest as you navigate through the crowded room. Despite trying to push Xavier and his words out of your mind, they continue to haunt you relentlessly like a seductive spell. You tuck the flower into your pocket, a secret treasure hidden away from curious eyes as you continue with your tasks.

As the weeks pass, Xavier finds himself irresistibly drawn to the quiet corners of the palace, where the echoes of laughter and whispered secrets fade into a hushed stillness. In these moments of solitude, he allows himself to indulge in thoughts of you, his imagination flourishing with possibilities. He envisions your arms wrapped around him, your lips pressed tenderly against his as you sway beneath the stars in a dance meant only for the two of you. He dreams of intimate conversations shared beneath the soft glow of moonlight and stolen kisses exchanged in the shadowy embrace of dawn. Each day brings new challenges and duties that demand his attention, but also new opportunities to catch glimpses of you, to exchange guarded smiles that set his heart ablaze. As he navigates through the labyrinth of politics and intrigue, his mind constantly wanders to you, your face etched upon the canvas of his thoughts.

And while you go about your own tasks and duties, your mind often drifts to fantasies of you and Xavier lost in passionate embraces, your hearts beating as one. These forbidden desires both tantalize and terrify you. You try to focus on your responsibilities, immersing yourself in mundane tasks that occupy your days. Yet every corner of the palace seems to hold memories of your brief encounter with Xavier, each whisper of wind carrying an echo of his voice. During quiet moments alone, you often take out the flower he gave you – its delicate petals now slightly wilted – as a constant reminder of your connection.

The halls buzz with whispers and speculation, their echoes reaching even Xavier's ears. Your name, once just a faint murmur on the wind, now seems to reverberate through every corridor and chamber, igniting curiosity among the court at your sudden rise to his affections. Before long, Xavier finds himself seeking out those same quiet corners where he knows he will find you. When your encounters do occur, though brief, they are filled with a charged energy that crackles in the air like lightning before a storm.

As your shift comes to an end, you take a leisurely stroll through the garden under the shimmering light of the full moon. The silver glow casts a mystical aura over the delicate blooms surrounding you, their petals swaying gently in the cool night breeze. You feel Xavier's presence before you see him, a tingling sensation at the base of your neck that sends shivers down your spine. His movements are fluid and graceful, emerging from the shadows like a ghost gliding through the moonlit foliage. His voice, barely audible above the rustling leaves, whispers your name. Every step he takes towards you is slow and cautious, as if he were a predator stalking its prey in the forest of desire. His intense gaze locks onto yours, mirroring the storm raging within him. As his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch is tender yet possessive, revealing the hunger that consumes him. "I can't stay away from you," he confesses in a low, raw tone, "Nor do I want to. Every moment apart feels like an eternity, a cruel punishment inflicted upon my restless soul."

Your heart races at his words, your body responding to him like a finely tuned instrument played by a master musician. With each gentle stroke of his fingers, he ignites a fire within you that threatens to consume you completely. Overcome with happiness, you utter his title like a sweet melody on your lips: "My prince." Your fingers twitch with an uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch him, to ease this growing need within you. But even as you speak softly and timidly, asking why he is doing this, your response is like music to Xavier's ears, filling him with warmth and joy that radiates through his entire being.

His long, slender fingers trace the delicate curve of your jawline, igniting a burning trail of desire in their wake. His intense gaze holds yours captive as he speaks, his voice unwavering and filled with devotion. "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were destined to be mine," he declares, his words laced with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine. "You have become my everything - my sun, my moon, my stars - the very air I breathe."

His other hand cups your face with gentle tenderness as he speaks, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a soothing caress. He leans in closer until his lips are just inches from yours, teasing you with the promise of passion that lingers between you. "I want to spend every moment with you, bringing life to your dreams and creating new ones together. To hold you close through the darkness and when the weight of the world becomes too heavy to bear."

His confession of love and longing strikes deep within your soul, like a familiar melody whispered on the wind and written in the stars. With each gentle touch, warmth spreads throughout your body, igniting a fierce flame that burns with an intensity you've never felt before. As Xavier's hands cup your face, you lean into his touch and close your eyes, savoring the comforting sensation. Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest as his lips draw even closer to yours, the anticipation almost unbearable. You don't push away or pull him closer; instead, your hands rest lightly on his chest as if trying to resist him. But as your gaze slowly rises to meet his, he can sense your surrender. As he lowers his mouth to yours in a tender kiss, the outside world fades away, and it's just the two of you lost in a sea of desire.

The kiss is a slow burn, filled with longing that matches the depth of your feelings. His tongue teases gently at the seam of your lips before seeking entrance, his hand cradling the back of your head to draw you impossibly closer. He pours every ounce of love, desire, and devotion into the kiss, hoping to convey the depth of his feelings and erase any doubts that may linger in your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer as the kiss grows more passionate with each passing moment. Eventually, you both break away, breathless and trembling. Foreheads still pressed together, hearts beating in sync, your eyes meet and see the same love and longing reflected in each other's gaze. For a brief moment, nothing else exists except for the two of you caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. But reality intrudes upon this stolen moment, reminding you of the relentless march of duty and responsibility. Reluctantly, your arms release Xavier from their hold as you murmur softly, "I should go."

Xavier's heart plummets like a boulder as he feels the weight of your rejection. It hits him with such force, stealing his breath and leaving him speechless. His eyes widen in shock and disbelief, but he understands your hesitation and the gravity of the situation. Still, a wave of deep sadness and frustration washes over him, threatening to drown him in despair. He nods slowly, unable to find words as his throat tightens with emotion. Gently, he removes his trembling hands from your neck and steps back, putting distance between you. His mind is swirling with thoughts and emotions that he dares not speak out loud, fearing that they may lead to regret or expose the depths of his heartache.

You turn away without a word, heading back towards the sprawling castle that has been your home for so long. Each step takes you further from the love that has consumed your thoughts and left a void in your heart.

As you disappear through the grand palace doors, a sharp pang of loneliness pierces Xavier's chest. Suddenly, his extravagant surroundings feel hollow and meaningless compared to the ache in his heart. He retreats to his private chambers, feeling utterly alone despite being surrounded by lavish furnishings. As he paces restlessly across the marble floor, he wrestles with the harsh reality of your situation - duty, family, crown - all weighing heavily on his shoulders and making it difficult for him to justify pursuing a relationship with someone of a lower status.

But even as logic tries to dictate his actions, his heart rebels and refuses to accept a future without you in it. Taking a sip of rich burgundy wine, Xavier tries to drown out the bleakness that clouds his mood before setting aside the goblet and collapsing onto his bed with a frustrated sigh. Memories of your laughter fill his mind as he yearns for you with an intensity bordering on madness. His imagination ignites the flames of desire between you as he seeks solace in one of the most private acts imaginable. Guilt lingers at the edge of his conscience, but he pushes it away and allows himself to succumb to waves of pleasure that crash over him. He whispers your name with longing as he reaches climax, feeling his heart race in time with the pumping of his wrist. Exhausted and emotionally drained, he falls into a restless sleep, haunted by memories of stolen moments and clinging to hope for a future that may never come to fruition.

As you drift off to sleep yourself, Xavier's presence wraps around you like a warm and protective blanket, shielding you from the darkness of the night. And even when you wake, that comforting warmth lingers as you go to Princess Meira's chambers.

As you tentatively step through the grand doors of the breakfast hall, a wave of fear crashes over you, threatening to send you fleeing in the opposite direction. This is a rare occasion for the King and Queen to join their children, Meira and her brother Xavier, for breakfast. You find yourself wishing that Meira had given you some warning beforehand, but then again, why should she? She has no way of knowing the depths of your heart's yearning for Xavier. With a deep breath, you give a gentle smile to the room, attempting to ignore the intense gazes of both the prince and his parents. Instead, you divert your attention to Meira with a cheerful expression and a graceful curtsy. "My Lady," your voice chirps softly, trying to convey a sense of ease despite the fluttering nerves within you. For a brief moment, your eyes meet Xavier's and you are momentarily lost in their depths before quickly looking away, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

As Xavier watches you move around the room, his heart rate increases and his pulse pounds in his ears. Seeing you among his family members, especially after your late-night encounter just hours ago, sends shivers down his spine. He exchanges a polite nod with his parents, their keen gazes flickering between the two of you as they pick up on the subtle signs of your shared secret.

Meira senses the tension and jumps in with a bright smile. "Good morning! I requested cherries for breakfast today!" Her delicate ivory fingers gesture towards a bowl piled high with fresh cherries, causing warmth and gratitude to wash over you at her display of kindness. Since starting as her lady's maid, Meira has insisted on treating you as an equal, trying to learn your favorite things and surprise you with them. Despite your short time together, it feels as though you have known each other for years, often losing yourselves in hours of conversation and fostering a blossoming friendship.

With a sly smirk and a glint of mischief in her eyes, she teases, "Funny... Cherries are Xavi's favorite too! So I made sure to get extra." Her gaze lingers on Xavier, who meets it with narrowed eyes and a simmering warning. But she remains cool and unfazed, her amusement evident in the way she brushes off his glare. "I'm sure you guys won't mind sharing though, right?" She passes the bowl to him, her infectious grin grating on his nerves.

Meira is known for her sharp wit and ability to gather information about everyone around her. She knows the latest gossip that threads through the court like poison, including the rumors about you and her brother. At first, she didn't believe them, but her hesitation was not due only to your differences in standing. As she observed Xavier closely over the years, she realized he had always believed that love was not meant for him, a fact that Meira could see clearly in his eyes when he stood outside the throne room after a conversation with their father about marriage arrangements.

She remembers his soft voice promising her, "At least one of us will marry for love. I'll make sure of it." At that moment, she vowed to do everything possible to make that dream come true for him, too. She firmly believes someone as wonderful as her brother deserves to be loved and cherished, not forced into a joyless partnership.

For Meira, love is something written in the stars and soulmates truly exist. And she will not rest until she can convince their parents to understand this as well. Raising awareness about your situation is just the beginning for her.

As Xavier takes the bowl from her hands, he can't help but appreciate her unspoken support and understanding, the weight of her touch heavy with unsaid emotions. The cherry in his fingertips is plump and dark, its deep red skin glistening under the soft lights of the palace. He examines it thoughtfully before popping it into his mouth, the burst of sweetness overwhelming his senses. His thoughts drift back to the previous evening, the memory of your lips and the taste of your skin still fresh in his mind. He offers you the next cherry with measured grace, the simple exchange infused with a deeper meaning. Your eyes meet as your fingers brush against his, accepting the fruit, and the air between you crackles with an undeniable energy.

Xavier notices his parents' prolonged interest in you, their gaze a mix of curiosity and speculation. Meira's well-intentioned efforts succeed in heightening their awareness of your relationship, though Xavier dares not speculate on their true intentions. When the royal family retires to the gardens for a stroll, he discreetly ensures that you walk close together. The fresh air is fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle trickle of a nearby fountain adds to the serene beauty of the flora surrounding you. It's a welcome respite from the confined atmosphere of the palace, allowing you both a fleeting glimpse of normalcy amidst all the expectations and regulations.

"You handled that earlier scene with such poise," Xavier comments softly, his voice filled with appreciation and admiration. "Though I can't help but think we may have given my parents cause for concern." He casts a discreet glance toward the monarchs, who seem engaged in their own discussions, but he can't shake off the feeling that they're listening closely to every word exchanged between you. "I must confess...it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to maintain proper distance when I'm in your presence," he admits honestly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding or reciprocation.

Despite the overwhelming impossibility of acting on your feelings, you can’t resist meeting his gaze with a longing of your own. The intensity of your mutual desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken. In an attempt to banish the weight of your forbidden emotions, you playfully tease Xavier as you continue your stroll together through the gardens. “I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble, Your Highness.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Xavier's lips, grateful for the lightness and joy you bring to what is otherwise a troubled mind. "It's not trouble," he murmurs softly, locking eyes with you. "It's a complication...but one I'm willing to navigate for the reward." His words linger, heavy with emotion and unspoken promises. As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the garden, the conversation shifts to less intense topics. As you rejoin the group, Xavier feels the weight of his duties settling back onto his shoulders. With one last lingering gaze at you, he returns to his responsibilities, cherishing your radiant smile in his mind.

As the day wears on and your duties and tasks for Meira consume your attention, thoughts of Xavier constantly consume you. And as night falls and preparations are made for bed, you both find yourselves retreating to your individual quarters - yearning for each other's presence in the quiet moments before sleep. The silence in your rooms serves as both a comfort and a cruel reminder of your separation; every tick of the clock echoing the distance between you.

Lying in bed with tangled covers, your hearts ache with longing and fear for what lies ahead. Unable to find rest, memories of your time together play on a continuous loop in your minds as you wait for the first light of dawn. Desperate for solace, you rise early, slipping into a simple robe and grabbing a book from your personal library before making your way to a secluded spot in the castle gardens.

The morning air is cool and carries the sweet fragrance of dew and blooming flowers. As you walk, trying to lose yourself in the words on the page, you eventually come across a tranquil spot under a tree with heavy white blossoms cascading down its branches. Settling onto the soft grass, you allow the peacefulness of your surroundings to calm the turmoil in your heart.

As the sun slowly rises and casts its warm, golden light through his own bedroom window, Xavier feels an inexplicable pull towards the gardens. With careful steps, he makes his way towards the secluded spot, almost as if he can sense your presence awaiting him. When he finally reaches the spot beneath the blossoming tree where you sit peacefully, he is overcome with a sense of belonging unlike anything he's ever felt before. Without saying a word, he takes a seat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he instinctively reaches for your hand. "Do you come here to escape?" he asks in a soft whisper, barely able to contain his emotions.

You look up at him in surprise, but any initial shock quickly fades away as you feel your heart swell with happiness at his presence. The touch of your hands together sends sparks flying between you, and you can't help but lean into it, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his touch. "Yes," you answer quietly, your gaze shifting down to where your hands are now tightly interlocked. "Do you have somewhere safe to escape to, Xavier?"

Your question brings a soft smile to his lips as he looks down at your entwined hands, feeling a sense of purpose and determination wash over him as he gazes upon the image of your connection. In a hushed voice, he confesses, "For so long, my refuge was in books and knowledge. I sought solace in the stories of others and the wisdom of ages past. But now..." He trails off, struggling to find the right words to express himself, yet knowing that sharing these thoughts with you is important. He takes a deep breath and continues, "Now, my sanctuary is with you. Every moment we steal away, every secret touch, every shared laugh or whispered confession - these are the things that give my life meaning and make all of the struggles worthwhile."

He raises your intertwined hands, his soft lips brushing against your knuckles before returning them to his lap. Leaning into you, his head rests against your shoulder as you sit in peaceful silence, taking in the tranquil surroundings of the gardens. You find a moment of true peace together in this secluded corner of nature, surrounded by its beauty and serenity.

It's a fleeting moment, fragile like a butterfly's wings, but it allows you to let your guard down just a little. Your hand instinctively travels up Xavier's neck, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers. Without hesitation, you lean in to press your lips against his in a tender kiss. He responds immediately, melting into your embrace and pulling you closer.

His arms wrap around you protectively as your fingers continue to play with his silky locks. In each other's arms, lost in the depths of your love for one another, time seems to stand still.

Breaking the kiss, his eyes lock onto yours, his intense gaze reflecting the same fierce longing and adoration that fills your own heart. With a gentle touch, he traces the soft curve of your cheek, marveling at the beauty that radiates from within and without. Time seems to hold its breath at this moment, captured in the blissful seconds between heartbeats. Your lips hunger for more, your body yearning for his touch. But all too soon, the sound of approaching footsteps shatters the tranquility, pulling you back to reality.

With a quick glance around to make sure no one has witnessed your intimate moment, you quickly straighten and offer Xavier a hand up. "We should return to the castle," you murmur regretfully, torn between the desire to stay in his arms forever and the weight of your responsibilities awaiting you. Reluctantly, he allows you to guide him to his feet. As you walk back towards the castle together, your hands remain intertwined for a fleeting moment before separating due to the demands of propriety.

Your heart is heavy with conflicting emotions - guilt for indulging in this forbidden love, fear of being discovered and facing the consequences, and longing for more stolen moments like this with Xavier. Even inside the safety of the castle walls, the taste of his kiss lingers on your lips, a tantalizing reminder of what will never be fully yours. Needing space to process these emotions, you slip away unnoticed.

As the days slip by and your paths continue to intertwine within the castle's imposing walls, each encounter with Xavier is a delicate dance between longing and caution. The air crackles with tension as he watches you from a distance, his gaze tracing every graceful step and subtle gesture as you navigate the corridors of the palace. Your demeanor speaks volumes, guarded yet wistful, and it draws him in like a moth to a flame. He can't help but notice the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you arrange a vase of flowers or the way your smile holds a tinge of melancholy. Each detail only fuels his fascination with you, stirring emotions he never knew existed. But beneath the exhilaration of these stolen moments lies an undercurrent of urgency, a sense that time is slipping away too quickly.

In the grand library, as you peruse through stacks of books, you can sense Xavier's presence before he even approaches. His warmth envelops you from behind, sending a flush to your cheeks and making it difficult to focus on anything else. You stammer out a greeting, trying to compose yourself in his proximity. But his nearness lingers, filling the room with unspoken desires and yearning. Your heart races as you struggle to maintain some semblance of composure.

"Can I help you find something, Your Highness?" Your words are formal and polite, but your eyes betray the depth of emotion bubbling just below the surface.

Xavier's breath catches in his throat at the sound of your voice, his entire being consumed by the intoxicating essence of your presence. He can't resist leaning in closer, his lips brushing against the delicate shell of your ear as he murmurs, "Actually, I came searching for something far more elusive." A heavy pause hangs between you, filled with palpable anticipation, before he continues in a low, deliberate tone. "Your understanding, perhaps?... Or maybe just a glimpse of that radiant smile that haunts my dreams?" He pulls back slightly, locking his gaze with yours, the electric connection between you igniting like a live wire.

In the dimly-lit library, your eyes are pools of liquid moonlight, reflecting the depth of your longing and the risks you're both willing to take for each other. "Even the simplest moments with you feel like an eternity," he confesses reverently, his sincerity and adoration shining through his words. "And yet, I find myself yearning for more - to lose myself in your eyes, to hear your laughter echoing through the night." His voice trails off, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he bares his heart to you.

You can feel his honesty wrap around you like a warm blanket, igniting a fire within your soul. Once again, you are acutely aware of the risks you take by being together, but you find yourself powerless against the strength of your feelings for him. His lips graze against your neck in a tender caress, sending shivers down your spine and leaving you momentarily speechless.

Your trembling hands grasp onto the edge of the bookshelf, seeking any support available as you give in to the overwhelming longing. Fatigue weighs heavily on your body, tired from the constant struggle to resist the alluring effect he has on you. Every fiber of your being aches for him, for what you know you want and need. With a soft voice, you murmur his name, feeling the resistance that once held you so firmly begin to dissipate. A small smile tugs at your lips before they meet his in a long-awaited kiss.

Xavier feels a wave of euphoria wash over him at your touch, filling him with an indescribable sense of triumph and love. Your lips part, allowing him to taste the sweetness of your yielding mouth. The exchange of breath and warmth between you leaves both of you breathless, lost in the moment's intensity. With a groan that's part relief and part desire, he presses you against the bookshelf, your bodies aligning as if drawn by some invisible force.

The weight of your breasts against his chest sends a jolt of pure lust coursing through his veins. His arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens and intensifies.

The heat between your bodies is palpable, a fiery intensity threatening to consume you both. You can feel yourself completely opening up to him, surrendering to the desires that have been building inside you for weeks. In this moment, all your defenses are laid bare as you grip him tightly, unable to hold back any longer.

"Kissing you has been consuming my thoughts for days," you breathe against his lips, your voice almost desperate with longing. Your thumb traces his bottom lip with a featherlight touch, savoring the softness and perfection of his mouth. "These lips, my prince...do you have any idea how perfect they are?" You kiss him again, losing yourself in the pleasure of his plush pink lips against yours. Your words ignite a fire within Xavier's soul, soothing the wounds left by the cruel hands of fate. He smiles against your lips, his heart pounding in his chest as he reciprocates your fervor with an intensity born from weeks of repression and desire.

Your unrestrained touch sends waves of pleasure crashing through him, and he moans softly, his fingers clutching at your hair as he kisses you harder. As you break apart for a moment, gasping for air, your eyes meet in a mirrored reflection of the intense passion that burns between you. You whisper against his skin with a soft smile, "This is dangerous, Xavier." Your words only serve to fuel the desire between you as you nuzzle into his neck, your fingers slipping under his shirt to trace delicate patterns along his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex beneath your touch.

Xavier's entire body trembles, your touch igniting a fiery desire within him, threatening to consume him whole. Your voice, husky and charged with danger, only adds to the already intense arousal that courses through his veins. With one hand, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, taking in the sight of you with hunger and longing in his eyes. He sees a hint of uncertainty and resistance lingering in your gaze, but it's overshadowed by a deep love and longing that seems to eclipse any doubts. Empowered by your admission of risk, Xavier captures your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue teases at the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, while his hands roam freely over every curve and contour of your body with a reverence bordering on worship. As his fingers trace the hem of your dress, just barely slipping underneath the soft fabric, he meets your eyes and silently seeks permission. Your heart pounds in your chest, hesitating in the face of such intense desire. But you make no move to stop him, leaning into his touch as if unable to resist its temptation.

With a soft sigh of relief, Xavier allows his fingers to slip under the hem and explore further - tentative and searching, tracing the contours of your midriff with light touches. He continues a slow journey upward, following the curves and dips of your ribcage with careful attention. In this dimly lit library, guided by the rhythm of your breaths, he feels acutely aware of the fragility of this moment; knowing that every second spent together is precious and fleeting. Yet despite this realization, he remains resolute in his determination to savor every moment, to etch these memories onto his heart and soul.

The intensity between you is palpable, a tangible force that binds you together for better or worse. Your heart races faster as his fingers trail down your body, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake.

You see the fire burning in the depths of his eyes, a reflection of your own desires. Knowing that your feelings are mutual, that you are both willing to fight for this love, gives you the courage to surrender completely to him. With a soft nod, you grant him permission to continue exploring your body.

Leaning back against the bookshelf, you sigh softly as his hands begin to undress you. The contrast of cool air against your exposed skin and the warmth of his touch sends shivers down your spine. And with each layer of clothing shed, your trust and vulnerability deepens within Xavier's senses.

Kneeling before you with reverence and awe, he places feather-light kisses along the column of your throat. His fingers work deftly at the clasp of your bra, revealing the smooth expanse of your stomach and the delicate lace beneath.

He cups your breast in his palms, feeling the supple flesh yield to his touch. His thumbs brush over your nipples, watching them harden and pebble under his caress. Your response ignites a surge of desire within him, and he knows that he must have you - claim you in every way possible.

Capturing a rosy peak between his lips, he suckles gently while his hands roam lower - seeking the heat between your thighs.

As his lips envelop your pert nipple, you let out a soft moan that echoes through the quiet library. Your head falls back against the sturdy bookshelf, surrendering to the delicious waves of sensation that wash over you. With each flick of his tongue and gentle suck, your body responds with eager shivers and arches. The anticipation builds as his fingers trail down, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending tingles racing up your spine. You can't help but bite your lip to stifle a cry as he discovers the damp evidence of your arousal, his gentle caress over the lace fabric of your panties setting off fireworks of pleasure throughout your body.

Your moans, the scent of your arousal, and your willing submission only fuel the fire raging within Xavier. As he slowly works to remove the final barrier between you, his fingertips dance along the delicate fabric, igniting a hunger in him that burns like no other. The sight of your reaction to him, the feel of your body trembling under his touch, is an intoxicating aphrodisiac.

With careful precision, he finally removes the lacy fabric, revealing the treasure he's longed to claim for so many days. He takes his time kissing a path down your abdomen, his hot breath teasing your skin as he approaches your glistening core. As he finally presses his lips to your most intimate area, he feels a surge of satisfaction and pure desire.

Your moans become more urgent and desperate as he explores the depths of your pleasure with his skilled tongue. The sensation of his mouth on your heated skin sends electric shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your entire being, making you gasp and cling to the edges of the bookshelf for support as you surrender completely to his touch.

As his slender finger slips inside you, your body responds instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your slick, gummy walls clamp tightly around him, reveling in the fullness he provides. You can't help but wonder how much more you could take if he were to give it to you.

Your pleas for more are barely above a whisper, but they are music to Xavier's ears, a seductive melody he can't resist. He continues to attend to your needy cunt, feeling your inner muscles clench around the second finger he works in. The velvety heat draws him in deeper with each thrust. As the tension builds within you, he can sense you nearing climax. With a growl of satisfaction, he brings his mouth back to your swollen clit, sucking gently as he increases the tempo of his fingers.

His determination sends you tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Your body convulses, and your pussy flutters wildly as you crest the peak of your climax. Xavier drinks in every moan and sob of pleasure, his own arousal reaching a crescendo as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. Your juices trickle down his chin, the sight of his enjoyment only adding to your ecstasy.

When the storm finally subsides, you collapse against the bookshelf, breathing heavily. As Xavier wipes away the evidence of your pleasure, his heart swells with affection and pride. In this moment, he craves you so badly - the feel of your body wrapped around his, the warmth of your embrace as he thrusts into you and fills you with his seed. And when the time is right, when you're ready, he will take you as his own.

The spark ignited by your lips lingers between you both, and Xavier eagerly responds to your craving for more sweetness. When you finally break apart, he is left breathless and wanting.

With a gentle tug, he leads you deeper into the library, its walls lined with ancient tomes and forgotten knowledge. The scent of old paper and leather fills your senses as you settle onto a plush velvet couch, his arm draped around your shoulders. Your breath catches as he leans in for a kiss, his lips meeting yours in a fiery embrace. Lost in each other's touch, time seems to slip away unnoticed as you lose yourselves in this private sanctuary, hidden behind towering shelves of books.

His hand traces patterns on your skin as your bodies twist and turn on the couch, two halves of a whole coming together in perfect harmony. The soft light filtering through stained glass windows casts a warm glow on your entwined forms, wrapping you in a cocoon of intimacy.

Your fingers thread through his silver hair, pulling him closer as your legs wrap around his waist. Every kiss, every touch ignites a spark within you, filling you with a sense of belonging and completeness that you've never felt before.

As you revel in the euphoria of each other's presence, quiet voices drift towards you from afar. Barely able to catch your breath, you break away from the kiss to meet his eyes, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"Shh," you whisper playfully, pressing a finger to his lips. "We wouldn't want to get caught like this, Your Highness."

Xavier smirks against your lips, the glint in his eyes hinting at the scandalous thoughts running through his mind. A sly grin spreads across his face as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper. "Then again, perhaps I wouldn't mind being caught. The scandalous headlines and the outrage it would cause among the courtiers... I find myself rather addicted to causing chaos wherever you are."

Without warning, he captures your lips in another passionate kiss, the intensity of his longing and desire palpable on his tongue. Your mouths dance and meld together, exploring each other's depths as you lose yourself in the embrace. As his hands roam down to cup your breasts, the skin-on-skin contact sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his thumbs gently graze your hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips.

He nibbles at your bottom lip before trailing kisses along your jawline and down the sensitive curve of your throat. Your hands grip onto his hair, urging him on as he continues to explore your body with his skilled hands.

With deliberate slowness, he slides a finger inside you, filling you with an overwhelming sense of fullness. The sensation is almost too much to bear, causing your entire body to convulse around him. Seeing the ecstasy etched onto your face only adds fuel to Xavier's fire, and he claims your lips once more with a triumphant smile.

Your bodies remain entwined on the couch as he begins to explore deeper, setting a steady rhythm that mirrors the beating of your hearts. As your moans grow louder, he presses his free hand against your mouth to muffle the sounds. The risk of being discovered only intensifies Xavier's desire, and the way he dominates you with his hand sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The pressure builds within you like a crescendo, threatening to consume you completely. With each thrust of his finger, you feel yourself inching closer to the edge. And when he slips a second finger inside you, your body explodes in an intense orgasm that washes over you like a tidal wave. You cling onto him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cry out softly, your voice muffled by his hand.

A fierce desire to give Xavier the same pleasure he has given you consumes your entire being. As you straddle him, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss, he eagerly accepts the surge of passion and unbridled intensity emanating from you. Your weight pressing down on him, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and your fingers tangled in his hair create a powerful image of dominance and submission that sends shivers down his spine. He groans into the kiss, reveling in the taste of you and the way your tongue dances with his.

Your lips trail along his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake before you pull back and meet his gaze, silently asking for permission as you hover your fingers over his skin. Without hesitation, he nods in approval, whispering softly against your cheek as his lips brush yours in a feather-light kiss, "Yes. Leave your mark on me. I wear it like a badge of honor."

Eagerly, you continue to trace delicate hickeys along his neck and collarbone, relishing the promise of ownership they bring. But when you pause to admire a subtle purple bloom near his collarbone, he reaches up to gently cover your hand with his, urging you to claim him fully. "In fact," he murmurs huskily, "I want more. Claim every inch of me. Make me yours, inside and out."

With a soft moan, you press your lips to the tender spot once more before sinking your teeth into it with just enough force to leave a lasting mark.

As your lips dance along his skin, your hands eagerly roam over the dips and curves of his chest, tentatively tracing the lines of muscle and bone. With an eagerness that borders on greed, you quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it aside, your gaze immediately drawn to his nipple. A small gasp escapes your lips as you run a thumb over the light-pink bud, feeling it grow firm under your touch. Meeting Xavier's intense gaze for a fleeting moment, you lean down and take the hardened peak into your mouth, sucking and nibbling with gentle ferocity.

The unfamiliar sensation sends electric currents of pleasure coursing through him, his breath hitching in his throat as he surrenders to the sensation. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you close as he gives himself over to the exquisite pleasure you're giving him. Underneath your skillful touch, he becomes both conqueror and conquered, a paradoxical mix of desire and submission that feels completely natural yet also disorienting. He knows without a doubt that he would never relinquish this type of control to anyone else, yet with you it comes effortlessly, like taking in his next breath.

As you continue to lavish attention upon his nipples, you can't help but smile at the sight of him writhing and moaning in pleasure, lost in the depths of arousal. Leaning back slightly, you take in the beautiful sight before you - Xavier lying there with his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, his skin flushed with desire. Your eyes trail down the soft trail of hair leading to his abs and you feel a primal urge to follow it with your tongue. Lowering your lips to his stomach, your fingers continue to tease and play with his nipples while your mouth leaves a trail of kisses and licks in its wake.

No one has ever worshipped his body like this before, and Xavier is overcome with a mix of awe and desire as you free his throbbing cock from its confinement. Any worries about being caught are pushed away by the sheer pleasure of feeling your mouth on him, your tongue tracing wet paths along his shaft. He gasps, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards you as you eagerly lap up the salty-sweet droplets of precum that have gathered at the tip of his arousal. In this moment, he feels completely and utterly desired and loved, as if he were a divine being worthy of being worshipped by a devoted follower.

Despite the potential consequences, he finds himself unable to resist the urge, his hands tangling in your hair as he guides your mouth to his throbbing cock. As his fingers guide you, you let out a small moan, feeling your anticipation build as you take in the sight of his aroused state. The head of his member is swollen and flushed, veins pulsing against his pale skin. Your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him, and you trace the prominent veins lightly with your tongue before taking him fully into your mouth.

You start slow, savoring the taste and texture as you gradually increase the pace and depth of your movements. With one hand caressing and stroking the length that doesn't fit in your mouth, you use the other to cover his mouth and muffle his own cries of pleasure. A wave of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that you're the one responsible for bringing Xavier to such a state of ecstasy.

Pausing for a brief moment, you meet his eyes as you bob your head back down, taking him deeper this time. He pushes against the back of your throat, but instead of pulling away, you swallow around him, allowing yourself to relax and fully enjoy the taste and sensation of him in your mouth. Your tongue swirls and licks along his length, eliciting desperate, muffled moans from him.

As you descend again, taking him to the hilt, Xavier feels his climax approaching rapidly. His muscles tense and strain as he eagerly surrenders to the exquisite sensation only you can provide. A low growl escapes his throat as he threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you, urging you on. Your skilled mouth and talented tongue have reduced him to a quivering mess, completely at your mercy. He can't help but marvel at how effortlessly you bring him to the brink of bliss. With each flick of your tongue and suction of your lips, he inches closer and closer to his release. As he focuses on your eyes, filled with adoration and desire for him, he feels himself losing control. With a guttural groan, he gives himself over completely to the waves of pleasure crashing through his body.

Sensing that he's on the verge of coming undone, you redouble your efforts, sucking harder and faster while never breaking eye contact. You want to see the exact moment when he loses all control, when he surrenders himself wholly to the pleasure you're providing. And then it happens. His eyes go wide, his fingers clenching tightly in your hair, and a deep groan rumbles from deep within his chest. His body jerks uncontrollably as the first spurt of semen hits the back of your throat. You instinctively swallow and continue to milk his cock with your mouth as the rest of his climax follows in powerful waves, filling you with his warmth.

Eventually, his movements slow and his grip on your hair loosens. You release his now-sensitive cock with a satisfied smirk, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you crawl up to straddle his body. Your skin is flushed and glistening with sweat, but your eyes shine with satisfaction and desire. "You taste amazing," you murmur, running your fingers along his jawline before leaning in for another kiss.

Xavier gazes up at you, his eyes sparkling with adoration and gratitude. He gently caresses your cheek, marveling at the perfection that stands before him. "In every way imaginable, you are a flawless creation," he breathes, his voice raw with emotion. As he speaks, his hands wander to your hips, pulling you flush against him once more. With one hand still on your cheek, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin.

But as much as you both want to stay in this moment forever, reality soon sets back in. Xavier reluctantly begins to disengage from your embrace, helping you both stand and pick up the scattered clothes around you. "We should probably get dressed before someone discovers us," he murmurs, though the reluctance is evident in his tone. You can't help but pout slightly, not ready to leave this intimate moment just yet.

"I know," you say softly, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breaths.

Xavier tightens his hold around you, holding you as close as possible as he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in deeply. He softly reminds you that every moment apart is simply a countdown until you can be together again.

"Every moment apart is torture," you admit quietly, your heart aching with love and longing. With one final, lingering touch, you give him a small smile before turning to leave.

Xavier's eyes are fixated on your retreating figure, his heart heavy with longing and regret. Every step you take away from him feels like a stab to his chest, but he knows that he can't call you back. His duty as a prince and the weight of your illicit love keep him rooted in place, his hand pressed against the cool wood of a bookshelf as he struggles to maintain his composure. When you finally disappear from sight, he is left alone with his thoughts, the memories of your forbidden moments burning vividly in his mind. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his attire, steeling himself for the long day ahead as he tries to push away thoughts of you and focus on his duties.

But even as Xavier attends to his royal obligations throughout the day, his mind constantly drifts back to you. He steals glances whenever possible, hungry for any sign of your hidden love. Each stolen touch and lingering gaze heightens the anticipation between you both, building up an insatiable desire for the next time your bodies will come together, your hearts beating as one.

As the day wears on, Xavier finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else. Even during important meetings and events, his thoughts are consumed by visions of your secret encounters. And when the moon begins its ascent into the sky, he eagerly counts down the minutes until he can escape from the constraints of his public life and join you in your designated sanctuary.

Finally, the moment arrives, he makes his way to meet you in the dimly lit room. As soon as he enters, he sees you waiting for him with that same hunger burning in your eyes. Without a word, you fall into each other's arms, your lips meeting in a passionate, all-consuming kiss.

Your hands explore each other's bodies, tracing every curve and contour with a careful touch as if committing them to memory. Your heartbeats sync, pounding in unison as passion courses through your veins.

Stripped of all clothing, you lay bare before one another, your limbs entangled on a makeshift bed. Xavier's fingers map every inch of your body, marveling at the smoothness of your skin and the curves of your figure. He traces a line from your waist to your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts and across the plane of your stomach. Each touch ignites a spark that travels along his nerve endings. In this moment, you are his masterpiece, a work of art created solely for his pleasure. And he is determined to take in every detail, every reaction. His touch reaches the apex of your thighs, cupping your sex with gentleness and awe at the heat radiating from within you.

With deliberate slowness, he teases you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body with each gentle graze of his fingertips. Your breath quickens, and your body arches in response to his expert touch. You become lost in a symphony of sensation, craving more as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. But just when you think you can't take it anymore, he retreats, denying you the release you so desperately want.

You whimper, your hands clutching at the sheets as you try to maintain control, but it’s a losing battle. “Please,” you beg softly, your voice barely audible above the sound of your labored breaths. “Xavier, please…” His touch changes, becoming firmer, more demanding.

He slides a long finger inside you, his hand moving with such precision and skill that you can't help but arch your back in pleasure. Your body convulses around his intrusion, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, but you crave it all the same. As he continues to stroke you, you can feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation threatening to crash over you at any moment. But just as the pleasure reaches its peak, he pulls back, his movements slowing as he brings you back from the edge.

Your plea echoes through the room, inflaming Xavier’s desire to devour you whole. He's addicted to your response to his touch, the way your body trembles and convulses under his ministrations. He removes his finger, watching as you pant and squirm, desperately seeking the relief he’s denied you. A smile spreads across his lips, both proud and wicked. He revels in this game of control, relishing the power he holds over your pleasure.

However, he can no longer resist the temptation of your body. His lips trail a path of fire up your inner thigh, leaving a blazing trail in their wake. Every inch of skin that his hot breath touches turns to liquid desire. "You taste so sweet," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he parts your lips and presses his tongue against your clit. He eagerly explores every inch of your delectable cunt, savoring the intoxicating flavor that only you possess. With each flick of his skilled tongue, he brings you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. You writhe beneath him, gripping the sheets as you struggle to keep yourself grounded in reality. But his mouth is relentless, never giving you a moment's respite from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

As your orgasm builds within you, Xavier adds another layer to his attack, pressing two fingers inside you while continuing to lavish attention on your throbbing clit. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. Just when you think you can't take any more, he adds yet another level of intensity, pushing you over the edge into complete and utter bliss. Your body convulses violently as waves of pleasure wash over you, your cries of ecstasy muffled by the skin of his neck as you bury your face against him.

In that moment, Xavier is consumed by the intoxicating taste of your release. He drinks in every drop like a man dying of thirst, savoring the sweetness of your passion as it coats his tongue. Even as your aftershocks ripple through you, he continues to stimulate you with his mouth and fingers, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you're completely spent. Only then does he ease back, trailing soft kisses along your inner thigh as he withdraws from you.

Leaning up, he captures your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of his own desires into the press of your lips. As he breaks the kiss, his eyes bore into yours with a smoldering intensity. "Now it's my turn," he murmurs, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs invitingly, his body already trembling with anticipation.

His words ignite a fire within you, filling you with a sense of eagerness and purpose as you eagerly accept his challenge. You move closer to him, your hands running along the defined muscles of his thighs as you drink in the sight of his aroused form. His erection stands proud against his abdomen, glistening with pre-cum and pulsing with desire. With a tender smile, you lean in, your lips pressing softly against the head of his cock. As the salty tang hits your tongue, an electric thrill shoots through your body, only fueling your desire. You begin to explore every inch of him with your mouth, experimenting with different techniques to bring him the ultimate pleasure. His body responds eagerly, his breathing growing heavier and his hips subtly rising to meet your mouth.

Xavier is lost in the sensations you're creating for him, reveling in the warmth and wetness that envelop him beneath your touch. Your lips form a perfect seal around his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure as you slide up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

Your skilled tongue becomes a master artist, painting intricate patterns of pleasure across the surface of his shaft, teasing and tormenting his most sensitive areas with expert precision. Every lick and suck elicits a moan from deep within him, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through his entire body.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared passion, the wet, slick noises of your lovemaking mingling with his ragged gasps for air. His body trembles under your touch, desperate for release yet determined to hold himself back. He wants to savor every moment with you, to explore and taste and possess you in ways that he never has before. Reluctantly, he pulls away from your eager lips, his erection glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own arousal.

Your eyes follow him as he withdraws, filled with a mixture of longing and disappointment. You understand his desire for more, you know what he expects of you and you can’t help but share your feelings, pleading with him to understand. “I’m scared, Xavier,” you admit softly, pain shining in your eyes as they meet his. “I want nothing more than to be with you, but…” You shake your head, giving him a soft smile as you trail off, your fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw as you murmur, “What happens after? What will become of me when I’m forced to love you from afar?” You voice a secret worry that weighs heavily on your heart. “It’ll likely be fine for a while… but eventually you’ll be expected to marry for the sake of your lineage, for your crown. And what then…?” You hate to do this in such a vulnerable moment for both of you, but the words just seem to tumble out. Your eyes meet his again, tears threatening to spill over as you whisper desperately, “You’ll just be with another in order to fulfill your duties?”

As your words wash over Xavier, they strike a chord deep within him, stirring up a tumultuous mix of guilt and responsibility. He'd always been aware that this situation was far from ideal, but hearing your fears spoken aloud brings the harsh reality into sharp focus. With gentle hands, he lifts you up and cradles you against his chest, leaning back against the cool stone wall for support. “I cannot promise you an easy future,” he confesses softly, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the night. “My duty to my kingdom, to my family, is a heavy burden that I may never truly escape.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “But I swear to you that I will do everything possible to ensure your happiness. I won't let you suffer, nor will I let you feel alone or unloved.”

His words fail to bring the comfort and reassurance you yearned for, and you find yourself pulling away from him in an attempt to gain some distance. You avoid meeting his gaze as you begin dressing, feeling his eyes follow your every move around the room. “I don’t think I can do this, Xavier. I’m so sorry. I thought I could, but I..." You trail off, feeling your heart shatter into a million tiny pieces with each word. You can't help but feel guilty; after all, you knew what you were signing up for when all of this began. What you truly want is for him to fight for your love, to reject the idea of being with someone else in the future. It's an unrealistic desire, and deep down, you know it. But even still, you can't push it aside. Finally mustering the courage to meet his gaze, a small smile graces your lips as you utter the three words that have been weighing heavily on your heart.

Xavier stands there, paralyzed with shock and confusion, as your words wash over him like a tidal wave. "I love you," you say, and his entire world seems to shift on its axis. A surge of emotion overtakes him, a whirlwind of joy and despair that threatens to engulf him completely. In that moment, he realizes the depth of his feelings for you, how much he desires to protect and cherish you. But duty and tradition hold him back, weighing heavily on his heart. The idea of a future together feels impossible, and this knowledge pierces him like a knife through the chest.

Summoning all his courage, Xavier steps towards you, reaching out to take your hands in his. His voice trembles with emotion as he speaks. "I can't imagine a life without you by my side." His words fill you with a potent mixture of hope and dread, but you refuse to let them break you. With a firm resolve, you untangle your hands from his and flee from the room, propelled by an urgency greater than any before.

Xavier remains rooted in place as you rush past him, each step taking you further and further away from him. Your parting words echo in his mind—"I have to go." He's uncertain if it's a physical or metaphorical departure, but either way, it feels like a gut-wrenching blow. For a long moment, he stands there staring at the closed door, his mind swirling with thoughts of what just transpired.

Finally, he exhales deeply and makes his way to the desk in the corner of the room. Collapsing into the chair, he buries his face in his hands. Strands of silver hair mingle with his fingers, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside him. He has no idea what lies ahead or if he can change the course of events now set in motion. All he knows is that the very thought of living without you is unbearable.

As the sun begins to rise, casting a pale glow over the palace, Xavier steels himself for the challenges ahead. His determination hardens like tempered steel as he prepares to fight for the chance to make you his. This isn't the end; it's only the beginning of a new chapter, one where he'll do whatever it takes to be with you.

With each step you take away from Xavier, the warmth and love he represents fades, replaced by the harsh and cold reality of the outside world. The air is still and hushed, as if nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation of the decisions you both must make. You inhale deeply, taking in the crisp morning air, trying to clear your mind of all distractions. You know you must figure out what comes next, but for now, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the streets. Eventually, you find yourself in the palace gardens, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.

As you sit on a bench, lost in thought and seeking answers amidst the chaos, the tranquility of the garden envelops you and eases your worries, if only slightly. Just as you are about to leave, a faint noise catches your attention from behind. Turning, you see Xavier sitting on the same bench where you were just moments ago, bathed in the flickering glow of torchlight. A mix of emotions floods over you - relief, longing, and a hint of apprehension. As he notices your presence, part of him wants to rush to your side, to hold you tight and never let go. However, another part remains cautious, understanding the delicate balance he must maintain. He calls out your name softly, his voice carried on the gentle breeze. As he draws closer, he can see the concern etched on your face and the uncertainty reflected in your eyes. "Did we come to the same realization?" he asks tenderly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face with a gentle touch of his fingertips against your skin. "No matter what lies ahead, I will stand by your side through every triumph and hardship."

His words are filled with conviction as he whispers them into your ear. You find yourself leaning into his embrace, your head resting against his chest. "And how do you plan to make this dream of ours come true?" you question, the reality of your circumstances hanging heavily in the air.

Xavier smiles softly, holding you close as he answers. "It won't be easy," he admits, the weight of your situation heavy on his heart. He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "First, I'll speak with my parents and explain our feelings. Perhaps they can offer guidance and support."

The steady thump of his heartbeat echoes in the quiet garden, a soothing rhythm that calms your nerves. You nod slowly, understanding the difficult road ahead but finding strength in the fact that you’ll face it together. "I trust you," you whisper against his chest, feeling a sense of peace and security in his strong embrace. The peaceful silence of the garden envelops you as you stay there for a while longer, basking in each other's presence. As you look up at him, a small smile plays on your lips, mirroring the grin on Xavier's face.

Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back to meet your gaze. The thought of speaking with the King and Queen makes your heart race, but the love and support Xavier has shown you gives you the courage you need. “Thank you, Xavier,” you whisper gratefully, overwhelmed by his unwavering love and loyalty. He squeezes your hand gently and speaks softly, “Thank you. Your bravery and unwavering love inspire me to keep fighting for us, no matter our challenges.” As you near the grand palace gates, its imposing formality seems less daunting with Xavier by your side.

“We’ll face this together,” he reassures you in a low, intimate voice. “Every obstacle, every doubt, we’ll overcome as a team.” With one final comforting squeeze of your hand, he releases it, ready to stand by your side as your love story unfolds before the entire kingdom.

His words fill you with hope and determination as you prepare to enter through the giant doors before you. But as they loom over you, all of your courage and determination begin to falter. The realization that the King and Queen are waiting on the other side fills you with apprehension and a small squeak escapes your lips as you grab onto Xavier's arm, seeking his comfort and support. "You want to speak with them now...!?"

As Xavier's hand covers yours, a sense of calm washes over you. You can feel the weight of his palm and fingers against your skin, grounding you in this moment. His reassuring smile offers a glimmer of hope as he guides you towards the grand doors of the royal chambers. Your heart races with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, knowing that this conversation could alter the course of your lives.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lies beyond those imposing doors. As Xavier knocks, the sound rings through the halls, signaling your arrival. The servants quickly open the doors, revealing the opulent and elegant atmosphere of the royal chambers. Walking alongside Xavier, you can feel the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

This is it – there's no turning back now. In a moment of nervous humor, you whisper jokingly, "You must really want to get into my pants, huh?" But Xavier is too anxious to appreciate your attempt at levity and only gives a small smirk and shake of his head.

As you enter the room, your eyes are immediately drawn to his parents seated on their thrones. Their expressions remain impassive as they observe your entrance. The weight of their gaze makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, but then you feel Xavier's hand intertwine with yours, providing a lifeline amidst such intimidating figures.

Gathering all his courage, Xavier stands tall and meets his parents' gaze. He takes a deep breath before beginning to speak. "Mother, Father, I have something important to discuss regarding the woman by my side." He pauses briefly to squeeze your hand before continuing. "From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I knew she was special – unlike anyone I had ever met before. And as I've gotten to know her these past few weeks, I've come to realize that my feelings for her go beyond mere attraction or fascination. They are rooted in a deep love and respect for her as a person." Your eyes never leave his, your grip on his hand unwavering.

With strength drawn from your presence, he shares the story of how you confessed your love and your shared desires for a future together. And in that moment, surrounded by the regal atmosphere and powerful figures, it's clear that there is nothing more important to Xavier than the woman standing beside him, holding his hand.

You stand quietly by Xavier's side, your chest tightening with each word he shares about your relationship with his parents. The gravity of the moment weighs heavily on you, a knot forming in your stomach as you wait for their reaction. Your eyes dart between them, searching for any hint of disapproval or condemnation in their expressions. "Queen Xaria..." you begin, addressing Xavier's mother with a shaky voice. "I understand the complexities that our love presents, especially given Xavier's duties and responsibilities to the crown. But I want you to know that my love for him is true and pure. I would never intentionally bring him pain or hardship." You pause to gather your thoughts before continuing. "If you desire me to step away from him, I will do so. But if you give us a chance, I promise to love, protect, and cherish him with every fiber of my being."

As Xavier listens to you, admiration shines in his eyes for your bravery in facing his parents. Your words ring with sincerity, a testament to the depth of your love for him. His parents exchange unreadable glances as they consider your plea. The air in the room thickens with tension as silence stretches on. Gripping your hand tightly, Xavier silently encourages you to remain steadfast and believe in him and your love.

Finally, his mother speaks, her tone measured and thoughtful. "We understand the depth of your feelings for each other," she begins, pausing to glance at Xavier before meeting your gaze again. "But we also recognize the weight of responsibility that comes with Xavier's position as the future king."

You hold onto Xavier's hand tighter, seeking comfort and reassurance in his touch as she trails off. Anticipation builds within you as she continues speaking. "However, we cannot deny the strength of your love nor the joy it brings you both. As loving parents, our greatest wish is to see you both happy and fulfilled in your lives." She takes a deep breath, her expression softening as she adds, "But there is one condition. You must be prepared to face the challenges and scrutiny that will undoubtedly arise from your union. There will be those who question your choices and try to use your relationship against you. Can you both promise to stand together, united and unwavering, in the face of these storms?"

Xavier's chest is heavy with a mix of emotions as his mother's words settle over him. Relief and trepidation swirl within him, knowing that her willingness to support his union with you comes with its own set of challenges. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the present moment, on the woman standing steadfast by his side, her hand entwined with his in a symbol of their unbreakable bond. "From the moment I knew you were destined to be mine, I vowed to stand by your side through whatever came our way," he says, his words filled with a fierce determination. "Together, we've faced countless obstacles, each testing our commitment to one another. And through it all, our love has only grown stronger." Turning to address his parents directly, Xavier's tone conveys the seriousness of his declaration. "We understand the challenges that await us. We acknowledge the potential backlash from those who might disapprove of our union. However, we also firmly believe that our love is a force capable of overcoming even the most daunting opposition."

You look at Xavier's parents, standing tall and confident beside him, and feel a surge of pride and love for this man who has chosen you as his partner. "Your Majesties," you say, addressing them respectfully but with conviction in your voice. "I understand the gravity of the situation and the challenges that lie ahead." You squeeze Xavier's hand reassuringly and continue, "I promise to stand by your side, now and forever, as your partner, your equal, and your friend."

He looks at his parents, their expressions still guarded but now holding a glimmer of understanding and acceptance. His father, King Aldric, clears his throat, breaking the silence that follows your declarations. "Very well," he says gravely. "While we cannot guarantee an easy path, we will not stand in the way of your happiness." He pauses, exchanging a knowing look with his wife. "We will support your decision, Xavier, and do everything in our power to ensure your union is recognized and respected within Philos and beyond. However, we implore you both to remain cautious and mindful of the potential repercussions that may arise from your relationship."

A bright smile lights up your face as you address the King and Queen. "Thank you, Your Majesties," you say sincerely. "I promise to make you proud."

Turning to Xavier, you can't help but smile with pure joy in your eyes, a reflection of the love and adoration you hold for each other. As his parents' smiles beam with pride and understanding, he stands by your side with a newfound confidence and purpose.

"We are forever grateful for your guidance and trust," Xavier addresses his parents, his voice steady and full of conviction. "We vow to honor our people and uphold our duty as future rulers." With this heartfelt statement, you both make your way into the bustling hall where guests have gathered to celebrate your union.

As the heavy doors close behind you, Xavier pulls you into a tight embrace, his laughter ringing out in relief and happiness. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his love and support, any remaining nerves or doubts dissipate.

"We did it, my love," he whispers against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He lifts you up in his arms with ease, twirling you around as he gazes at you with adoration and wonder. You share a soft kiss before he leads you onto the grand ballroom floor where an orchestra plays a lively waltz.

Underneath the glittering chandeliers, you move in perfect harmony with each other, lost in the music and each other's gaze. With every step and spin, you feel a sense of joy and freedom like never before.

Meeting his gaze, your heart swells with overwhelming love as you respond with equal passion and joy. "Yes, Xavier. And together, we'll continue to defy the odds," you declare, a sense of determination and certainty in your voice.

The sight of the crown prince dancing with a lady's maid may raise eyebrows and stir whispers among the guests, but in that moment, it doesn't matter. For in each other's arms, shielded from judgement and outside pressures, your love is all that truly matters.

The final notes of the waltz fade away, leaving a lingering sense of euphoria in their wake. Xavier leads you back to your chambers, your arms remaining wrapped around each other, reluctant to part ways after such a magical evening. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he speaks, his words brimming with unbridled love and adoration. "Our love is no longer a secret, and I couldn't be happier to call you mine." He presses a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all of his emotions into the simple act. The warmth and tenderness of his touch leave you breathless, your heart overflowing with love for this man who has captured it completely.

As you stand in the quiet comfort of your chambers, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the fragrant scent of roses, a thought crosses your mind - you really don't want him to leave. Your voice is soft and tentative as you speak, unable to deny the longing in your heart. "Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Xavier's heart swells with joy at your invitation, a radiant smile spreading across his face as he looks into your eyes. Without hesitation, he nods eagerly, his voice just as soft and full of tenderness. "More than anything."

You prepare for bed together, moving around each other with ease and familiarity, as if you've shared a bed countless times before. As you settle into the plush covers, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your body and holding you against his chest. "Goodnight, my love," he murmurs against your skin, kissing your temple softly.

With your head resting against his shoulder, you close your eyes and allow yourself to fully surrender to the sensation of being held by the one who means everything to you. "Goodnight, my prince," you whisper back, your voice barely audible above the gentle hum of silence that fills the room. Hearing your words, Xavier tightens his embrace even more, feeling a surge of protectiveness and devotion towards you. As sleep starts to claim you, he remains awake for a while longer, watching over your peaceful form with a fierce sense of love and adoration. And as sleep finally claims him, too, your bound hearts continue to beat as one - two souls intertwined in an endless dance of love and passion.

As the days fly by in a whirlwind of wedding preparations, Xavier is struck by how effortlessly the two of you fall in sync. Your love grows stronger with each passing moment, like a delicate flower blooming under the warmth of the sun. Whether strolling hand in hand through the palace gardens or stealing kisses in the privacy of your chambers, every interaction feels charged with a depth of emotion and affection that leaves him breathless. Despite the urgent nature of the situation and the looming presence of court officials and advisors, he finds solace in your calming presence and unwavering support. Together, you navigate the complex labyrinth of royal protocol and familial expectations, your love serving as a beacon, guiding you through the chaos and illuminating your path forward.

As the wedding date draws near, the palace transforms into a vibrant tapestry of colors and scents, each detail carefully curated to reflect the beauty and significance of your union. On the eve of your wedding, you sit together in the moonlit grandeur of the palace library. The soft glow of candlelight dances across your skin, making you appear ethereal and otherworldly. Xavier takes your hand in his, marveling at the delicate curves and the warmth radiating from your very essence.

"In this short time, you've become the sun to my sky, the breath in my lungs, the very reason for my existence," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and wonder. Looking up at him, your eyes shimmering with tears, you are overwhelmed by the depth of love and adoration reflected in his gaze. Smiling softly, you squeeze his hand reassuringly, your heart overflowing with love and devotion.

"And you are the stars in my sky, the rhythm in my heart, the dream I never dared to believe could come true," you reply, gazing back at him with equal intensity. As your lips meet in a tender exchange, time seems to stand still. The weight of your impending nuptials is momentarily lifted, replaced by a flood of warmth that fills Xavier's heart to bursting. He savors the taste of your lips, the softness of your touch, and the love that flows between you like a river of molten gold.

When you pull away, your eyes lock, the depth of your connection evident in the way your gazes dance and meld together. And in that moment, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you are the missing piece to his puzzle, the love he's yearned for all of his life.

With a gentle but firm grip around your waist, Xavier guides you back to your chambers. Inside, he continues to hold you, your bodies intertwined like two halves of a whole. Your laughter and quiet conversations fill the air as you bask in the love that radiates between you.

As you both prepare for bed, Xavier's eyes never leave yours. Tucked under the luxurious covers, you feel safe and loved in his arms. With a heart overflowing with love and happiness, you whisper softly, "Thank you for choosing me, Xavier." His sweet smile and loving gaze are all the response you need.

In the stillness of the night, as sleep claims both of you, Xavier holds onto you tightly, dreaming of the future that awaits you. In his dreams, he sees the children you'll raise together, the legacy you'll build as king and queen of Philos. And when dawn breaks, he awakens with a start, your name on his lips and excitement pulsing through his veins.

Xavier's eyes remain fixed on your peaceful face as the first light of day filters through the curtains. "Today, we seal our fate," he murmurs, tracing his fingertips lightly across your cheek.

The touch of his fingers on your skin stirs you from your slumber. With a gentle smile, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer for a tender kiss. "Today, we become one," you whisper against his lips, your voice filled with emotion.

Standing face to face, ready to embark on the most important day of your lives, Xavier is struck by the enormity of your love and its impact on his life. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew that you were meant to be his. And now, as you stand before him as his bride, that destiny is finally being fulfilled.

Taking your hand in his, Xavier brings it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm. "Forever and always," he promises, sealing it with a loving gaze that speaks volumes of his devotion to you.

As you walk hand in hand towards the grand throne room, where your family, friends, and subjects await to witness your union, he steals glances at you, marveling at the beauty and grace that defines you. Your dress, a masterpiece of delicate lace and flowing satin, hugs your every curve and sparkles in the warm glow of candlelight. It complements your natural loveliness perfectly, making his heart swell with pride and adoration.

The sound of soft music fills the air as you glide down the aisle on the arm of your father, your head held high with confidence. At last, you reach the altar, where the priest waits to perform the sacred rite.

You listen attentively as he begins the ceremony, your mind focused on the vows you are about to exchange and the lifetime of love that awaits you. With each word spoken, you feel your bond strengthening, the barriers that once separated you dissolving like sand between your fingers. The warmth of Xavier's hand in yours reassures you that together, you can conquer anything.

As the ceremony progresses, you are acutely aware of the responsibility of being Xavier’s wife, his partner in every sense of the word. Yet, rather than feeling daunted by the challenges that lay ahead, you are filled with a sense of courage and resilience.

“As I stand before you today, I give you my heart and pledge my love for eternity," You speak from the depths of your soul, gazing into Xavier's deep eyes that hold a world of love for you.

Your vows resonate deeply within Xavier, filling his heart with a sense of joy and contentment. As the priest invites him to exchange his vows, he takes a deep breath, his throat constricting with emotion. Looking into your shining eyes, he’s overcome by the intensity of his feelings for you.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one I would spend the rest of my life loving. As I stand before you today, I offer you my heart, my soul, and my love, pledging to cherish and protect you until my final breath. I promise to lead our people with wisdom and justice, always remembering that my greatest achievement is the love that binds us together.”

As he finishes speaking, the priest pronounces you husband and wife, and Xavier feels a surge of elation and relief. He leans in to kiss you, your first kiss as a married couple, your love blazing like a beacon as you seal your vows.

With your loved ones and supporters by your side, you walk hand in hand down the grand aisle of the throne room, basking in their cheers and applause. The reception is a lavishly decorated affair, filled with the vibrant colors of flowers and streamers, the melodic strains of music, and the warmth of friendship and acceptance. As you dance with your new husband under the twinkling lights, you whisper words of love against his ear, knowing that this moment will be forever etched in both your hearts.

His strong arms hold you close as your first dance as husband and wife becomes a beautiful symphony, the rhythm of your hearts beating in perfect harmony. Xavier feels overwhelmed with emotions as he looks around at the smiling faces of your guests, each one a cherished friend or family member who has played a part in shaping your lives together. As the night wears on, he takes in every toast, well-wish, and congratulatory hug with gratitude and joy, feeling truly blessed to have such amazing people in his life who love and support him unconditionally.

As the grand festivities of the wedding come to a close, Xavier seeks refuge in the tranquil palace gardens, craving a moment of solitude amidst the whirlwind of joy and celebration. Under the twinkling stars, he finds you waiting for him, hand outstretched. You stroll together, the cool night air carrying whispers of love and secret desires and hopes for the future. Eventually, the comfortable silence is broken by your voice, tinged with both nervous energy and curiosity. "So... at what time will the consummation take place?" Although part of you dislikes the idea of being watched during such an intimate moment, you know it's tradition and necessary.

Your question elicits a small smile from Xavier, who also wishes for a more private and intimate experience. "Traditionally, the consummation ceremony takes place after the wedding feast and festivities have concluded, usually around midnight," he explains in a gentle tone. He can sense your thoughts swirling and reaches out to lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "But don't worry... Once the formalities are over, we'll sneak away and create memories that belong only to us." He leans in closer, his words a warm breath against your skin.

You nod eagerly, your eyes shining with anticipation. As the night wears on and the remaining guests continue to revel in the wedding festivities, you and Xavier make your way to the designated room for the consummation ceremony. Despite its public nature and slight awkwardness, there's an intense wave of arousal that sweeps over you as Xavier's body hovers over yours. In that moment, surrounded by onlookers yet lost in each other's embrace, you feel like no one else exists in this world except for you two. You nibble on his bottom lip playfully as your eyes lock with his, a soft, teasing smile dancing on your lips. "Take me, Xavier," you whisper breathlessly. "Show them who I belong to."

As your lips part, a surge of electric desire courses through Xavier at your bold declaration. He cups your face tenderly, his thumbs brushing against the delicate curve of your cheekbone as he whispers back, “You are mine. In this chamber and for all eternity.” He aligns his body with yours, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin.

His hands roam over every curve of your body, tracing the elegant lines of your collarbone before settling on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Breaking away from the kiss again, he nuzzles his nose against your throat, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he peppers your skin with feather-light kisses and teasing bites. His lips trail downward, pausing to worship each of your perked nipples through the thin fabric of your gown before continuing their path along your abdomen. When he reaches the waistband of your dress, he pauses, looking up at you with a sultry gaze that sends a rush of heat through your core. “May I?” he asks softly, seeking permission to continue.

Your cheeks flush crimson as you nod eagerly, completely giving yourself over to him. “Yes… please don't stop,” you breathe out in anticipation. He removes the fabric from your body with gentle tugs and caresses, revealing your stunning figure clad only in a sheer slip that leaves little to the imagination. He drinks in the sight of you, his pulse quickening at the erotic image before him. His lips continue their descent, exploring every inch of your sensitive skin as your legs begin to tremble with anticipation. The wait is almost unbearable, but finally, his fingers travel under the delicate lace of your slip, finding the wetness pooling there. With a deep groan, he traces your clit before slipping inside, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips.

Guided by your responsiveness, Xavier continues to explore every inch of your body with his skilled fingers. They trail along your inner walls, teasing and tantalizing as he steadily builds your pleasure. His lips follow suit, leaving a trail of soft kisses and lingering nibbles on your skin, savoring the taste of your arousal. As your breaths become ragged and your moans more insistent, he knows that the moment is near. He slows his pace, wanting to prolong this exquisite torture for both of you, wanting to make this moment last forever.

With a gentle thrust, he enters you, feeling the warmth and tightness of your body as he claims you completely. A collective gasp echoes through the chamber as you become one, but the audience fades into the background as he moves within you. Every nerve ending in your body sings with pleasure as you melt into him, the boundaries between you blurring as your hearts beat in perfect harmony. His movements grow more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more powerful as your passion reaches its crescendo.

And then it happens - that mind-blowing climax that sends shockwaves through your entire being. With one final, explosive burst of pleasure, you fall over the edge, your body wracked with spasms of pure bliss. Witnessing the look of utter ecstasy on your face as you come undone in his arms is a sight Xavier will carry with him forever. Your pleasure is his own as he pushes you both to the brink.

He gasps out your name, his own release barreling towards him like a raging storm. With one final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, planting his seed and finally claiming you as his own. The world stands still for a moment as you both bask in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The only sound is the symphony of your gasps and moans mingling with the distant cheers of your witnesses.

As your pulses gradually slow, Xavier cradles you close, relishing the warmth and closeness of your joined bodies. “You are mine, now and forever,” he whispers against your skin, sealing his vow with a tender kiss. “And I will cherish and adore you every moment of our journey together.”

“Yours, Xavier… Always and forever,” you murmur softly, your voice barely audible above the din of the crowd. Xavier gathers you in his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness wash over him as you prepare to leave the ceremonial space behind. He holds you close, knowing that from this moment on, you are his everything.

As his hand gently grasps yours, he leads you with a sense of anticipation and longing toward the sanctuary of his chambers. The soft light from the candles cast flickering shadows across the walls as you enter the dimly lit room, your heart racing with excitement at the prospect of finally being alone together. He lowers you onto the large, plush bed with careful hands, his gaze never wavering from yours as he begins to undress, revealing every inch of his sculpted form. Settling in beside you, he pulls you close, your skin tingling at the sensation of his naked body pressed against yours.

His hands explore every curve and contour of your body, igniting sparks of ecstasy with each caress. Your breath hitches as he trails lower, teasing and tantalizing your most sensitive areas. With a gasp, you arch your back, giving into the sensations overwhelming you.

His words send shivers down your spine as he claims you as his own once again. His touch becomes more urgent as he delves deeper inside you, bringing forth waves of pleasure that leave you begging for more.

As his length presses against your thigh, you reach down to guide him towards your entrance. Your eyes lock in an unspoken promise as he slides inside you, filling you completely.

A soft growl escapes his parted lips as he feels your tight heat envelop him, your grip around his length urging him to sink deeper into your welcoming depths. The sound sends shivers down your spine, knowing that you have the power to elicit such a raw response from him.

“Fuck, angel,” he groans, his voice laced with both pleasure and reverence. “You feel unbelievable wrapped around me like this.”

He begins to move, each withdrawal almost fully before plunging back in with an irresistible force. A steady rhythm is set, quickly building in intensity as he picks up speed. The air is filled with the sharp sound of skin slapping against skin in perfect harmony with your ragged breaths and the desperate whimpers that spill from your lips.

Sweat glistens on Xavier’s brow, a telltale sign of his impending release. With a deep groan, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, showering it with tender kisses and nips as he works towards your mutual climax.

“So close,” he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fights to hold back the tsunami of pleasure building within him. “I want to be inside you when we… Ahh!” With one final, powerful thrust, he surrenders to the inevitable, spilling his essence deep within you as a wave of ecstasy crashes over him.

Your body arches off the bed, consumed by overwhelming pleasure as you cry out his name over and over again. “Xavier… oh, Xavier,” you moan, your voice strained with pure bliss as his essence fills you.

As he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, you cling to him desperately, your nails leaving unintentional marks on his back as you try to hold onto the last shreds of control you possess. “Please… I need you to finish me off,” you beg, barely able to form words as waves of ecstasy continue to wash over you.

In response, Xavier redoubles his efforts, his thrusts becoming even harder and faster as he drives you over the edge. And finally, with a scream torn from your throat, you reach the peak of pleasure, your body convulsing around him in pure ecstasy.

With the aftershocks still coursing through your body, you collapse onto the rumpled bed sheets, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. A look of pure satisfaction spreads across Xavier's face as he watches you intently, unable to resist the temptation to claim you again. Letting out a low, guttural growl, he positions himself above you and grasps your hips tightly, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

As he leans in close, he lets his lips graze your ear. “You’re soaking me, angel,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. “I can feel your hunger, your insatiable craving for more... You were made to be fucked by me, weren’t you?” With each firm and forceful stroke, your bodies collide with an intoxicating rhythm that sends shivers down your spine.

As Xavier's movements become more urgent and primal, he can see the mix of pleasure and pain flickering in your eyes. And instead of holding back, it only pushes him to take you harder, faster - lost in the haze of ecstasy and passion that surrounds you both.

Feeling his own release approaching like a storm building within him, Xavier reaches down and grabs a handful of your hair before yanking your head back. He leans in close to nip at your earlobe before whispering a dark promise that sends shivers down your spine. "You're mine," he snarls, his body tensing as he reaches the brink of his release. "No one else will ever have you like this. Is that clear?"

The intensity of his possession only fuels your excitement, and you crave this primal display of his love and dominance. As Xavier's body pounds into yours, you can feel the pressure building within you once more - the familiar heat spreading through your core as your next orgasm approaches.

"All yours. I swear," you pant breathlessly, your voice barely audible above the sounds of your lovemaking. "Please...don't stop."

Your body writhes beneath him, pleading for more as your own climax draws near. And just as you're about to reach the peak, Xavier gives in to his own primal urges and releases himself inside of you once more. With a deep, guttural groan, he fills you to the brim with his seed, savoring the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

"That’s my girl," Xavier growls softly, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself into you completely.

Gradually, he relaxes, collapsing onto your body in a state of exhaustion. You both lay intertwined, your skin glistening with sweat as you bask in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. "That was beyond words," Xavier murmurs, nuzzling against your neck while catching his breath. "You're stunning when you submit to me like that... so eager to please."

He peppers gentle kisses along your collarbone before pulling back and gazing into your eyes. "But there is still so much more I want to explore with you, so many opportunities for us to create pleasure together." A sly glint dances in his smile as he trails his fingers down your side. "Perhaps we can indulge in some new games. Ones that push the boundaries of your endurance..."

The mention of trying something new sends a rush of excitement through you. "What exactly do you have in mind?" you ask with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips.

Xavier's smile widens as he imagines the possibilities. "Well," he begins, his voice low and filled with seduction. "There are endless options we haven't explored yet. Some involve restraints and submission, others delve into sensory overload and heightened stimulation." He pauses, letting his fingers trace lazily along your arm as he formulates his ideas. "We could experiment with a 'kitty play' scenario. You would be my devoted pet, bound and blindfolded, relying on your other senses as you follow my every command." He watches closely for your reaction, his heart racing with anticipation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him close for a passionate kiss. "The thought of being completely at your mercy, chained by you and obedient to your every desire... I want that so badly."

A surge of excitement pulses through Xavier at your confession, the idea of you bound and surrendered to his control too irresistible to ignore. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice filled with desire and longing. "Then tonight, I'll be your master and you'll be my faithful, submissive pet."

He rolls off of you, his body still slick with sweat and the evidence of your earlier passion. With a newfound energy, he springs into action, retrieving the necessary tools— silken ropes, a soft blindfold, and a small bell attached to a collar. As he returns, you watch with rapt curiosity and eagerness, your eyes sparkling with excitement like two jewels in the darkness. Gently, he lifts the blindfold, placing it over your eyes, ensuring it fits securely but comfortably. The soft fabric envelops your vision, plunging you into a world of anticipation and surrender.

Next, he moves to the collar, presenting it to you with a reverence and care that belies the hunger in his expression. The cool metal feels both foreign and tantalizing against your skin, a tangible symbol of your submission to him.

You feel Xavier’s warm hands on you, guiding you to stand as if you were a precious doll under his control. The floor beneath your bare feet seems to shift and sway with every step, adding an intoxicating sense of disorientation to your heightened state of vulnerability. His fingers trail down your sides, lingering on your hips before drifting lower, teasing the edges of your slick folds.

Finally, with deliberate movements born from years of experience and desire for domination, he weaves the silken ropes around your body, securing you to a sturdy post in the center of the chamber. The rope snakes over your skin, creating intricate patterns that accentuate your curves and highlight your vulnerability. As he works, his eyes roam over your yielding form with possessive desire.

Once satisfied with the bindings, he steps back to survey his handiwork, admiring the way your body is stretched out before him, adorned with the subtle trapping of bondage.

He can't help but murmur in appreciation at the erotic tableau before him. "Such a pretty sight," he says thickly, his voice laced with desire. "Helpless and available for my pleasure alone."

Leaning in close to you, he whispers a command into your ear. "Now, kneel before me and present yourself. Show me how eager you are to please your prince."

Following his instructions, you slowly bend your knees and lower yourself onto the cool floor. You feel his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you forward until your head is bowed in submission.

You listen attentively for his next command, ready to obey whatever he may have in store for you.

As if sensing your readiness and anticipation, Xavier leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away. His footsteps echo softly in the silence as he moves to retrieve a small feather he had hidden away for this very occasion.

Returning to your side, he begins to trace delicate patterns across your cheeks and down your neck with the lightest touch of the feather. Goosebumps rise on your skin in response to the gentle caress, making you shiver with each soft sensation against your skin.

Xavier continues to guide your senses with the feather, using it as an extension of his will to direct your focus and heighten your sensitivity. The uncertainty of where the feather will land next only adds to your anticipation, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart to race.

As Xavier's whispers wash over you like a soothing balm, you take deep, slow breaths, trying to steady your racing heart. You can almost feel the soft feather grazing your skin, its occasional touch sending shivers down your spine.

Your senses are heightened, attuned to every sound, scent, and sensation, all under his command and presence. As he continues to tease you with the feather, he introduces new elements into the mix, occasionally running his fingers along your bare skin in between the delicate strokes of the feather. The merging of sensations is heady and intoxicating, keeping you on the edge and wanting more.

Moving behind you, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, "Count the strokes." With each whispered number, he strikes your bare skin lightly with precision, alternating between gentle caresses and firm strokes. The rhythmic pattern creates a symphony of pleasure and pain that threatens to drive you mad with desire. As the count reaches twenty, Xavier pauses, his hot breath against your ear as he asks, "Are you ready for more?" Without hesitation, you respond with a quiet "Yes, I'm ready."

Stepping away briefly, Xavier retrieves a small leather paddle from the shadows. Its smooth surface glides over his fingertips before he returns to your side with deliberate steps. He traces the flat of the paddle down your back, from the nape of your neck all the way down to the curve of your hips, applying just enough pressure to soothe and seduce. The sound of leather meeting skin echoes through the room as each spank fills you with both pleasure and pain. He varies the location and intensity of each strike, creating an erotic melody that leaves you gasping for more. And then, with a calculated motion, he raises the paddle higher and brings it down with a firm, controlled spank on your bare ass.

Your body jerks in response to the sharp sting of the paddle, but you quickly register Xavier's low and approving voice. "Good girl," he praises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "That's it. Feel the sting, but don't forget to embrace the pleasure that follows." As each strike lands, you feel a burst of intense pain, quickly followed by a rush of warmth and pleasure that radiates throughout your entire being. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you struggle to process the overwhelming sensations. "Feels so good, my prince... please don't stop..."

Bound and blindfolded, your body writhes in pleasure under the force of each strike, a sight that fills Xavier with an intense arousal. After several more strikes, he senses you may be reaching your limit. Gently setting aside the paddle, he returns to your side, his hands tender as they explore your heated skin and soothe away any lingering pain. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers softly in the stillness. "You did well... Your resilience and submission are truly inspiring."

As his throbbing cock finds solace in the warmth of your eager mouth, Xavier revels in how seeing you restrained ignites such a primal urge within him - a need to dominate and use you as his own personal playground. With each measured and deliberate thrust, coated in your saliva and infused with raw, animalistic desire, he relishes in the fact that your bound form and blindfold restricts your ability to counter or resist. "Take it all, princess," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he drives deeper into your warm throat. "Show me how grateful you are for everything I've given you."

Lost in the sensations, you exist solely for Xavier's pleasure - eager to fulfill any demand he may have, no matter how depraved or perverse. The intensity within Xavier reaches a fever pitch, his grip on your bound wrists tightening as he loses himself in the ecstasy of claiming you utterly.

"That's it," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion as he drives deeper, chasing the brink of climax. "Let me use you as I see fit."

With a final, almost brutal push, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips thrusting forward as he fills your throat with his essence. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him as he rides out his orgasm, every muscle in his body tense with ecstasy. He empties himself completely inside you, each powerful pulse of release sending shivers through his entire being.

Slowly, he withdraws from your mouth, his softening cock sliding free with a wet pop. Leaning down, he brushes a strand of hair from your dampened cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your plump lips. “Incredible,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe and admiration. “You took everything I had to offer and then some.”

Gently, he releases your bindings, taking care not to disturb the tranquility that now envelops you. Cradling your face in his hands, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all the love and adoration he holds for you into the simple gesture.

You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the embrace and silently pleading for more. “Make love to me once more? I want to be sure I get pregnant…” Your words ignite a surge of desire within Xavier. The thought of you carrying his child is almost too much to bear, stirring deep-rooted feelings of joy and possessiveness within him.

He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your naked form against his chest as he carries you towards the bed. His lips graze softly over your forehead, cheeks, and finally your lips as he lays you down. His body aligns with yours, his rigid cock seeking entrance into your slick, inviting warmth.

With a slow, steady push, he enters you once more. As he begins to thrust, he whispers vows of love and devotion into your ear, promising to protect and cherish you for all eternity.

With each intimate movement and stroke, your body responds with soft moans and gasps of pleasure. As you call out Xavier's name in a state of pure bliss, feeling his release pulsing inside of you, a sense of warmth and contentment washes over you, surpassing any physical satisfaction.

In the aftermath of your shared ecstasy, he presses his lips against yours, absorbing your cries and greedily breathing in your comforting scent. Holding you close, he cradles your trembling form as you come down from the peak of pleasure. In this moment, illuminated by the warm glow of the chamber and enveloped in the heat of your bodies entwined, he knows that he has found his home in you, his soulmate. Leaning down, he caresses your lips with a tender kiss. "Sleep now," he whispers against your skin, smoothing gentle strokes along your back to soothe you into peaceful rest. "Dream of our future together, filled with love, laughter, and joy..."

With a final sigh of contentment, you surrender to sleep, acutely aware of Xavier's comforting presence and grateful for his protection. As he holds you close, he realizes that with you by his side, he feels invincible and unstoppable. Together, you will conquer whatever comes your way and leave your mark on the world as a testament to the love and passion between you.

In this tranquil moment, he is overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of your love and the promise of a lifetime spent wrapped in your arms. Your love story is just beginning to unfold like the sunrise, and he eagerly awaits the new chapters that await you both as you write your own epic tale, hand in hand and heart to heart.

[mustangbby]

DAUGHTER - boothill x reader

- boothill brings home a baby girl he found in the grass one late night.

- read boothills lore and SOBBED. NOBODY TALK TO ME RN. anyways i had to write about his adoptive daughter but if he had a spouse at the time bc dad boothill is so precious imo cryingngnfsnakskf anyways..

- pre cyborg boothill, major boothill backstory spoilers, written before release wc 582

Boothill was home fashionably late tonight. He never specified why though, leaving you to your thoughts on his ranch. 

You both agreed to buy a farm together, considering he grew up around horses and cattle. His fathers taught him how to tend to the animals, taught him creativity, and overall gave him a fine life. 

You both had talked about having some children of your own, but that thought hadn’t become a reality due to your busy schedules. That was, though, until he walked through the door of your shared home, cradling a baby in his arms.

She was a pretty little thing- with pale blue eyes and white hair poking through her scalp. She seemed to be a newborn, with how tiny she was. 

“Look what I found, just sitting in the grass,” he said in a slight whisper, not wanting to startle the baby. “She’s pretty, ain't she?” 

Your eyes widen slightly as you sit up from your place on your shared bed. You take a sharp inhale before motioning for Boothill to hand you the baby. He carefully rests her in your arms, sitting down on your side of the bed as you hold the fragile being in your grasp. You coo to her as Boothill watches you with adoration.

“She’s gorgeous,” you smile, looking down at the girl who was happily clapping in your arms. “Do we know her parents? I’d hate to just take someone's child…”

“No parent was in sight. I also highly doubt someone would jus’ leave their kid in the middle of nowhere,” he said, patting the girl on the head. “If I find a parent, we’ll give her to em’.” 

You nod in agreement, allowing the baby to grab onto your pointer finger. She seemed so happy, you almost didn’t want to let her go. 

You both soon took her into your bathroom, running a lukewarm bath in your sink and putting the lightest type of soap you could find into the water. You wanted to give her a little bath, considering he found her outside, and you didn’t know what she’d have on her. You also didn’t know how long she’s been outside. 

You unwrapped her from the makeshift blanket Boothill tore from his shirt and set her down slowly into the water. She didn’t seem to fuss, so you proceeded to wash her body. Boothill stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, looking at something on his phone. You finished cleaning the tiny girl before wrapping her in a soft, warm towel. 

“Babe, where are we going to find clothes for this poor thing? She’s probably freezing!” You stress, crossing your arms and sighing as you watch the little girl squirm in the towels hold. 

“I’ll head out tomorrow morning and get some necessities. ‘Was thinkin’ about those things too, like how she’s gonna eat and all that.”

“Ugh, that’s another thing to worry about,” you turn around, facing him. “Babies her age don’t eat, and I can’t produce milk.”

At this point, it was late in the night. Who knows what time, all you know is that you should be asleep. But instead, you’re up caring for a little girl who wasn’t even yours.

“Is she just going to sleep with us tonight?” He asked, getting ready for bed.

“I mean, where else would we put her? We don’t have a crib!” You lightly picked her up, placing her on your lap as you rocked her to sleep.

[ckret2]

The second dimension has just been burned; Bill—who's definitely an innocent victim in this situation and totally didn't have anything to do with the fire—is inside the nightmare realm "dream realm" with a bunch of dying shapes from the neighboring dimensions that also caught fire; like a million gods are at the scene of the fire trying to figure out what happened; and the Axolotl's just been hit with a nonstop barrage of cosmic horror. But he's about to face an even greater horror: watching politicians and contractors try to get a single task done.

Here, have a fic. It's part three of a series about the Axolotl witnessing the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre before anyone's even figured out what happened or whose fault it is. Here's part one and part two.

####

Outside what used to be the incinerated wall named Dimension 2 Delta, what seemed like half a city's worth of gods had assembled within just a few hours: agents from the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force, concerned local politicians, firefighters, cops, paramedics, reporters, rubberneckers, and volunteers. The scene was one of simmering panic being just barely suppressed by training and professionalism: everyone there had a job to do, everyone there was focused on doing it, and none of them knew whether it would be enough.

Behind what used to be the incinerated wall named Dimension 2 Delta, where there was supposed to be an empty void with the point-sized Dimension Zero, there was now a multicolored cosmic foam, frothing and roiling nauseatingly in a way reminiscent of waking from a fever dream to discover that you're actively in a state of delirium and behind the wheel on the freeway. Only the Axolotl knew that, inside that foam, there was a mad dance party of the enslaved dead and dying, overseen by the party host ghost who called himself the Magister Mentium.

Neighboring what used to be the incinerated wall named Dimension 2 Delta, five 1D and 2D dimensions had been burned down to nothingness. The ATTF had just confirmed that a sixth had joined them, two more were well on their way to full incineration, and there were unconfirmed reports trickling in that efforts to contain the fire had failed and two more 1D dimensions were burning up like fuses. The flat and linear living beings of thousands of worlds had been rescued; shapes huddled together uncomfortably on 3D worlds, evicted ghosts haunted ghost worlds, and gods who had once seen themselves as above all mortal concerns now found themselves sitting shellshocked in an "above" they'd never imagined—and they were the lucky ones. The ones who hadn't burned up in the pale blue fires or fallen down into the eternal dance party.

And amidst it all—all the fear, the fire, the death, the panic—the desperate attempts by gods that didn't know each other or didn't like each other to find a way to make this right—those who thought a crisis of such interdimensional magnitude called for kindness and compassion verbally wrestling with those who thought it called for punishment and control—a Time Giant in a hard hat, whistling a country song she'd heard on the radio that morning, completely ignored everyone else there, strolled right up to the sickly swirling border of Dimension Zero as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and started looking around for the wall named Dimension 2 Delta she'd been called out to inspect.

She was dressed in goggles, a flannel shirt, sensible overalls, and leather work gloves. There were several tools strapped to her belt: a time tape measure, a space hammer, and a utility repair kit with patches and sewing needles for making quick mends to the fabric of reality. She eyed Dimension Zero's undulating border, glanced down at her tiny repair kit, and frowned dubiously. It seemed that the problem she'd been called out for was too big to hand stitch back together. She shrugged in resignation.

The cop who looked like a crab with two mushrooms growing out of his hollowed-out eye sockets smacked one claw against the cop made of two interlocked burning rings. "Hey. Is she supposed to be here?"

VENDOR turned, took in the Time Giant's appearance, and shouted, "Hello! Excuse me? What are you doing?"

She gestured with a thumb at Dimension Zero. "I was called about a prematurely crunched dimension. Here to do an inspection."

Irritably, VENDOR said, "You're supposed to be inspecting Dimension 2 Delta, not—this thing!"

"Well, I don't see D-2Δ around here. Looks to me like it's gone," she said. "Some jackass has been blowing up my office phone all day trying to rush me out here. I had to cancel three other inspections, call another guy in on his day off, and come out myself to get this over with so we can shut this guy up. So I ain't here to stand around painting my fingernails. Unless you can point me to D-2Δ, I'm gonna inspect the dimension that is here."

VENDOR, the jackass in question, said, "I'm the one who called you and I'm saying you can't go in!"

"Uh huh." Behind her goggles, the Time Giant's expression was completely unreadable. "Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go do my job."

The flaming rings whirled between the Time Giant and Dimension Zero's border, hundred eyes narrowed threateningly. "This is an active crime against reality! It's still under investigation."

"Then what was the big rush to get me out here!"

The argument was clearly audible over the general din as the Axolotl and the storm cloud with the ATTF returned from inspecting one of the many out-of-control fires. "Cops," the storm rumbled. "Hate cops."

The Axolotl's frills fluttered in agreement. "Interesting from an apocalypse cop."

Static crackled irritably over the cloud. "I prefer 'apocalypse agent.'"

As they caught up, the Time Giant was saying, "I ain't got time for this." She pulled out a length of time tape without unlatching the measure from her belt. "So when won't this place be an active crime scene?"

"Hold on!" The cloud flicked VENDOR's metal side with a lightning bolt to catch THEIR attention. The crack of thunder startled the Time Giant and cops into looking its way as well. To VENDOR, it snapped, "This isn't your investigation, back off." To the cops, it said, "And this is not a crime scene." To the Time Giant, it said, "I put in the initial call. Dimension 2 Delta spontaneously combusted; we want to know why. He says"—it gestured toward the Axolotl with a fork of lightning—"whatever's left of it is in there, so that might as well be where you start your investigation."

"Thank you," the Time Giant sighed. She let the tape snap back into place. "ATTF, right?"

"Right."

"I prefer to get my info from whoever's actually in charge of a dimension. So, we got any gods that can tell me about 2Δ—property owner, in-house maintenance...?"

There was suddenly a large wall of steel and glass in between the storm cloud and the Time Giant as VENDOR physically shoved THEIR way back into the conversation. "2Δ is in Lady Morgenstern's district, but she's still on vacation—(and apparently decided this incident wasn't worth coming back into the office for)—but, I am on the urban planning committee. If there's anything you need to know, you can talk to me. I can request any municipal records we have on 2Δ's construction and maintenance."

The Time Giant screwed up her mouth. "How long will that take?"

"A few hours, most likely."

The Time Giant's scowl deepened.

She wouldn't get anything useful from a career politician from a different district who knew bupkis about Dimension 2 Delta. The Axolotl said, "If you need somebody who personally knows 2Δ, I... might know someone. A mortal from the wall."

"Uh-huh." The Time Giant didn't look much less dubious about this offering. "It better be a mortal that's at least a quantum physicist. Preferably one with experience in dimensional maintenance."

"I... don't know." The Axolotl nearly added I don't think so—but he was growing less certain he knew what that triangle was capable of, and he didn't like his suspicions. "But—he is an eyewitness to Dimension 2 Delta's destruction from the inside."

The Time Giant chewed on that; then sighed, pointed at VENDOR, and said, "Okay, you request whatever files you can get," and pointed at the Axolotl and said, "In the meantime, I'll talk to your guy. Where is he?"

"Turn around, jumbo."

The group flinched in surprise. They turned toward the missing wall and the grotesquely bloated singularity behind it.

From the zeroth dimension's impossible border, the shining yellow triangle, hardly larger than a fleck of dust, blinked blearily out into the third dimension. He was holding a red plastic cup and wearing a party hat. He looked very much like a hungover homeowner trying to sign for a package at 7 in the morning.

They stared at him.

VENDOR demanded, "What in the world are you?"

"I'm a triangle," said the triangle. 

"You're not supposed to be in there. Get out."

"Hmm! Let me think! No!" He floated up to camera level with VENDOR, apparently not noticing he'd started tilting at an angle. "Why don't you make me?"

"How dare—! Do you know who you're talking to, mortal?"

"Nope. I only know the people worth knowing."

The Axolotl had to choke back a laugh as VENDOR's lights buzzed brighter with irritation.

The cloud quietly asked, "Your friend from 2Δ?"

The Axolotl nodded. "This is the Magister Mentium. He's the only survivor of Dimension 2 Delta. That I know of, anyway." He looked to the triangle, hoping he'd tell him that he was wrong—that the triangle's dancers really were his people from his own dimension.

But the triangle neither confirmed nor denied the claim. He just shot the Axolotl a dirty look. The Axolotl's heart sank.

"Are you sure he 'survived'?" VENDOR asked. "He doesn't appear to have a body. I don't think he's alive."

"What's with everyone's obsession with how alive I am today," the triangle griped. "Hey, worlds-for-guts! Come over here and I'll show you how 'lively' I can be."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Beg harder."

The crab cop snapped his claws. "You think you can threaten a god? Better watch your mouth, mortal."

"Oh, now I'm mortal again!" The triangle laughed. "Hey, make up your minds! Am I dead or not?"

"I warned you—!"

The Axolotl quietly inserted himself between the two, muttering to the crab, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that 2Δ isn't one of the dimensions hubris is illegal in?" From the corner of an eye, he could see the triangle pinching his fingers in mocking imitation of the cop's claw snaps. He blocked the triangle from the cop's view.

"It is up here—"

"He isn't up here. He's down there." The Axolotl stared at the crab until he backed off.

Throughout all this, the Time Giant was surveying the triangle dubiously, jaw set in an unimpressed line. Finally, she asked him, "Is uh—is your god home...?" (Even as tense as he was, the Axolotl had to fight back a chuckle. You could always tell when someone wasn't used to talking to mortals.)

"There's no gods here," the triangle retorted. "I'm the magister of this dream realm. So who're you and whaddaya want?"

No gods came up to smite the triangle for denying their existence, so the Time Giant shrugged and continued to address him: "Civil engineering inspector, cosmic structure maintenance. I'm here to figure out why D-2Δ collapsed, look over the place you're in now, see whether it's is up to code."

"Ugh, it's about time," the triangle groaned, as if he'd had any involvement in the Time Giant's appearance or any reason to expect her to be here. "According to these jokers, we got given a flimsy universe! Bad wiring or something!" (Had the triangle been eavesdropping on them the whole time?) "It'd explain a lot! The place wasn't very robust!" His irritated gaze circled the group of "jokers" in question—Axolotl, storm cloud, vending machine, the cops—then did a double take at the cop made of two flaming wheels. "Whoa, and I thought frills here was the freak. How many eyes do you have?" He squinted and started trying to count them. The rings rotated irritably and the triangle flinched. "You can shapeshift 'em. Wowww, optometrists must hate you."

The Time Giant waved a hand between the triangle and the rings to get his attention back. "So you are in charge of whatever's left of D-2Δ in there?"

"Of course he's not," VENDOR said. 

"Yep, that's me," the triangle said.

"Fantastic," said the Time Giant, loudly ignoring VENDOR. She pulled out a miniature clipboard strapped to the back of her toolbelt. "Then you get first priority in deciding what happens to the place, as long as it don't violate cosmic construction code. What's your ideal outcome here? Gut this dimension, clean out the rubble from D-2Δ, and rebuild somewhere else?"

"Don't even think about it," the triangle said. "Stabilize our dream realm."

VENDOR cut in again, "You can't expect to stay in there! A void at the center of the multiverse is no place for three million squatters—"

"You're way behind, Jack," the triangle said gleefully. "We're up to ten million now!"

THEY gasped in horror. "Ten million?!" THEY started cycling through THEIR stock of moons for one better sized for the population.

The request to stabilize the dimension gave the Time Giant pause, but before VENDOR could try to jump in again, she said, "Sure, got it." She made a note on her clipboard. "I'll look around, figure out if it can be repaired, make sure it isn't about to collapse around your ears—or whatever you have. Corners?"

"Great! I keep hearing this awful grinding noise! And the electromagnetism keeps flickering on and off! Can you do something about that?"

"I'm here to try," the Time Giant said. "Can I come in?"

The triangle hesitated. He looked to the Axolotl. "Hey, frills. Do you vouch for this freak?"

His gills fluffed in surprise at the question. Him? "Yes—she's a professional." The Apocalyptic Threat Task Force wouldn't have her on call if she wasn't dependable.

"All right," the triangle said. "Both of you come in. Welcome to the dream realm."

The Axolotl and Time Giant exchanged a look. She shrugged, scooped him into her arms like an oversized house cat, and headed into Dimension Zero.

####

"Wow. I've never seen nothing like this before." That was the fourth time the Time Giant had said that so far. (Two of them had been spent on the eternal dance party. She'd made eye contact with a square who was coughing an endless plume of black smoke out from around his dry and cracking eye, and the Axolotl—still being cradled in one arm—had felt her shudder before she deliberately turned away. If she was horrified, she was doing a better job of locking it away than the Axolotl had.) "Just moved in?" 

"Pretty recently," the triangle said. "I can't tell you exactly when! I abolished time."

"Probably for the best. This place is a real fixer-upper—I don't know if it could handle time." She had started poking and prodding as soon as she entered Dimension Zero—feeling the quality of the fabric of reality, flipping open invisible breaker boxes to inspect the fundamental forces. She paused as she peered into one box. "Where's the gravity?"

"Beats the heck outta me! I gave up looking for it. Think I like it better without gravity." The triangle had been weaving around her during her whole inspection. He was still clearly under the influence—but now, the Axolotl was less certain what influence he was under. The more the Axolotl saw him separated from his eternal dance, the less he looked like a partied-out drunk, and more like he was distracted to the point of dissociation. His voice fluctuated randomly between "loud" and "too loud." He tilted and zigzagged when he moved, drifted when he tried to hold still. He simultaneously flickered around the dimension like an indecisive quantum particle that couldn't figure out where it existed and maintained a steady, unblinking, spotlight-like stare at the Time Giant and what she was doing. "But the gravity's nothing. A while ago, the weak atomic force went out for like a whole week; you can imagine what a pain that was to get working again!"

She whistled under her breath. "Is this your first reno project? Should've started with something simpler, like a 2D universe, and worked your way up to 3D. 1D's beginner-friendly too; but honestly, with all the restrictions it's not worth it unless you're really creative with portals. 2D's a reasonably accessible middle ground."

"We came from a 2D universe," the triangle said. "After all the work we put into getting to the third dimension, I'm not about to go back!"

"Fair enough." She shifted the Axolotl from where she'd been carrying him in her arm to set him up on her shoulder so she could free her hands. He draped over her shoulder with his tail hanging down her back to watch as she shined a flashlight into the breaker box. There were five switches labeled in marker on tape, "ELECTROMAGNETISM," "STRONG WEAK ATOMIC FORCE" "WEAK  STRONG  WEAK  STRONG!!! ATOMIC FORCE," "????," and "???????? (DON'T TOUCH!!)" The weak atomic force switch was being held in the "on" position by a bundle of black rubber bands that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be made out of the triangle's own arms. The ???? switch had been replaced by a wormhole.

She prodded the wormhole with the butt of a pen. The triangle yelped and flinched. "Hey, whoa! If you're gonna get handsy, at least buy me dinner first!"

She stared at him, slowly shook her head, and muttered, "Never seen nothing like that before." She shut the breaker box. "Well, this place is no Goldilocks zone, but it's honestly kinda impressive it hasn't imploded yet."

"I'm taking that as a compliment!"

She put away her flashlight, pulled out her clipboard, and said, "So you mentioned a grinding sound. What's this grinding?"

"Right, that!" Now that she wasn't doing anything interesting worth watching, the triangle zoomed in front of her to make direct eye contact. "Every time I try to move, all of existence starts creaking and groaning."

"You're moving now and I don't hear anything."

The triangle rolled his eye. "I don't mean moving in here, I mean moving!"

She frowned.

The Axolotl suggested, "I think he's—at the center of the dimension. When he moves, we move... through the dimension. Perhaps he means when the dimension's literally moving with him?"

"Uh." The triangle squinted uncertainly. "Yyyes?"

"Huh. Dimensions shouldn't be moving." She unhooked her time tape from her belt, held it up in front of her, and said, "Can you move about... twenty lightminutes away?"

The triangle sighed heavily. "Yeah, sure." He zoomed off to the side. Existence seemed to zoom with him. The whole time he was moving, the Time Giant stretched out more of her time tape.

The Axolotl felt something very far away rumble.

"Is that all you needed, or are you gonna ask me to roll over and bark, too?"

"Haw haw," she said flatly. "Yeah, that's it." She glanced at the Axolotl. "How long did it feel to you like it took him to move?"

The Axolotl tried to think through the momentary vertigo. "Thirty, forty seconds?"

"Uh-huh. For him to move twenty lightminutes in thirty seconds, he'd be moving forty times the speed of light."

"Oh."

"Is that good?" the triangle called.

The Time Giant grimaced. "Well..."

"I can do it faster!"

"D—don't do it faster." She held up the time tape for the Axolotl to inspect. "Look at this."

Every measure mark on the tape was labeled 0 sec - 0 sec - 0 sec - 0 sec.

The Axolotl gave it a baffled look. "He did say he abolished time."

"Sure, but there's relative time, and then there's absolute time." Which was probably a statement that made sense to Time Giants, but all the Axolotl could guess was that she meant the time tape was not supposed to say zero seconds.

She let the tape retract and stroked her chin with a gloved hand. After a moment of thought, she said, "Lemme check something out."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 3 of a probably-7-part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. Here's part one and part two if you missed it. I'm posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl slowly discover just how much of a monster that silly triangle he likes really is.

It's ALSO chapter 63 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. I'm gonna fix the chapter numbering once I know how many chapters this plot is. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a oneshot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: okay, I lied that last week was the least horrifying chapter, but it's only because this chapter ran so long I decided to cut it in half. The horror comes next week. Enjoy this brief lull while everyone acts like this is a totally normal property inspection.

Anyway, lemme know what y'all think, and next week we're right back on the cosmic horror!)

[bam-stroker]

I got possessed by the opportunity for silly in @keferon's Texaid mech au and ended up with a slice of serious as well. Oh well, Bone Apple Teeth! - - - - -

Every muscle and joint in First Aid’s body aches. Flopped over the official break room lunch table, his face has been buried in his arms for at least twenty minutes. He’d taken one tired bite from a sad little sandwich at the start of his break, and now it’s just wilting beside him before he officially decides to just trash it. To be honest, he can’t find the energy to actually care. After months of cleaning up the messes left behind by that thing, lunch has become a “me time” escape for him as opposed to an actual meal. 

Well, to an extent. It can only be so much of a solo time with the cross over of employee lunch breaks. 

“You know, it’s not good to skip a meal when you work as hard as you do.” 

The sentiment is entirely sincere. Even face down, he can see the exact sad little face across from him. Those familiar blue eyes always twinkling with feeling. First Aid only grunts in acknowledgement. Why does Tailgate always have to be so… caring? He thinks to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of harsh laughter echoes at his thought. But it’s mechanical. As if that… machine is now a part of him. Haunting him. Or maybe it’s like a disease? But he can’t think of any illness where something like that can listen and watch to see the world through his eyes. Haunting it is then.

Whatever. He’ll take more time to care about that when he’s able to lift his head back up. Below his breath First Aid mutters, “I bet you like that, huh? Wearing me out. Must be so funny.” 

The voice in his head has nothing to say. 

First Aid huffs. Jerk.

Tailgate on the other hand, continues to pry. “So… Were you talking to him just then?”

Great. He’s saying shit out loud. Stellar! Amazing! This is going to do great things for his crumbling people skills. First Aid musters up that one sandwich bite’s worth of energy left in him to sit up. The popping of his joints should be concerning, but on the priorities list—stepping into a death trap daily as a new career—it’s hardly the top of it. 

“Look, Tailgate, I’m sorry. Yeah… I was talking to—” he starts to reply, and then cocks his head in confusion. “Wait, did you just say ‘him’?”

And there goes the old Tailgate big wet eyes shine. He nods his round little pale face, the short crop of his bleached white hair bouncing with the movement. “Well, yeah! Vortex is the one haunting it, right?” 

First Aid can’t help but sigh, slumping back into the uncomfortable break room chair. “Come on,” he replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another ghost believer?” 

He tries to keep the shake out of his voice. He tries to keep up the act, because if he admits it… if he admits it then it all becomes real.

Tailgate nods, giving a thoughtful hum as he eyes the sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. But, it feels easier to talk about it like that,” he says. Looking back up to lock eyes with First Aid, there’s a weight behind his gaze. “You’re not the only one cleaning up the messes around here. So let me be a little superstitious to help me get through the job.”

With a heavy sigh, First Aid breaks the eye contact. It’s too much. 

He crosses his arms, staving off a shiver from the memory of the first time he ever cleaned up the mech. Of the look on Tailgate’s face, so scared, when he’d handed him the remnants. 

The janitor and the wannabe medic. What a sad sorry pair.

All First Aid can offer is a nod of his head in acknowledgement, before he changes the subject. “So yeah, I’ve been talking to…him. It’s about all I can do, since he’s the one, ugh, actually driving.” 

Tailgate gasps loudly, as he leans forward. “It’s like reverse Ratatouille!”

“What??” 

“He’s the rat, and you’re the chef.” Tailgate continues, an entirely too excited smile on his face. 

“No!”

“Yes!!” 

First Aid groans, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “Tailgate. Please. How is this anything like ratatouille?” He pleads.

Between the cracks of his fingers, he watches Tailgate gleefully lay out his vision. “Everybody thinks it’s you—but it’s really him driving. So you’re like the chef, but instead of being on the outside, you’re on the inside—that’s why it’s reverse—because the rat is in the hat driving the guy like some kind of chef mech suit in the movie. But the ghost mech is driving you. So you’re reverse ratatouille!”

There are no words. There’s absolutely nothing he can say in response to the nightmare of his new life being summed up as accurately as “reverse ratatouille”. 

With a weary sigh, First Aid leans forward on the table, staring down as if some other answer to what his life has become will appear like a magic eight ball in the scratched up countertop. 

No such luck. It’s the same table he’s looked at day after day. 

“Reverse Ratatouille…” First Aid murmurs. A haunted look in his eyes.

“Reverse Ratatouille.” Tailgate chimes back chipperly.

Far off in the haunted abyss of his mind, First Aid hears the crystal clear laughter of the mech at the revelation. 

Reverse Ratatouille.

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── gojo never thought he would see the day when he would be in this situation: helplessly bound and gagged, watching his best friend of over 20 years fuck his wife on their marital bed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐂𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐃 + 𝐂𝐔𝐌 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐄 with gojo satoru & geto suguru

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, consensual cuckholding, cheating insecurities, bondage, panty gag, nipple play, cum eating, oral s[e]x, riding, gojo's inhumane strength + flexibility

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

As much as he was the strongest sorcerer in the world, there was one thing Gojo Satoru was hesitant to do—and that was to share the things he loved.

Anytime his students made eyes at a sweet treat he held in his hand, or when Nobara tried to “borrow” his black card, he would divert them with a sarcastic quip or annoy them until they dropped it.

But, if push came to shove, Gojo supposes he could share—especially when if it was with his best friend of 20 over years, Suguru Geto. 

In hindsight, Satoru and Suguru had a lot of things in common.

The same initials, the same cut of uniform, their eerily uncanny height. Even their shared love for obscure memes bonded them together.

But, one thing Gojo never expected to share with his best friend? 

You—his own, sweet wife. 

It wasn’t the kind of threesome you would find in a sappy porno. Gojo was unsure how he had let you lead him into this situation, but you must’ve been a lustful curse reincarnated in the form of a beautiful woman. 

He couldn’t resist your pretty doe eyes or your glossy lips twisted into a pout when you whined, “Please, Satoru? Can you do it for me?” 

Sure, he was a menace half of the time, but Satoru would lay the heavens and earth by your feet the second you asked him to. 

So, when you brought up the idea of a threesome, he was intrigued. After all, the both of you were pretty adventurous in the sack, and he couldn’t deny how sexy it was to imagine you with another woman. 

Except, you requested for someone else completely different.

You had asked him to share you with Suguru.

The kicker was, Satoru thought he would at least get some action. But, when you shared how it would turn you on to no end to see him all tied up and helpless, his curiosity was kicked up a notch.

Gojo was the type of man who would try anything once, even if the idea sounded absolutely awful.

So, here he was, right in the middle of his marital bed, all tied up prettily with some red jute rope that contrasted perfectly with his marble pale skin. You were straddling his lap, clad in a skimpy black thong and bralette which barely covered your heaving tits as you kissed him over and over again.

“Fuck—mhm,” Gojo groaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. Satoru loved it when you got this horny for him; it made him feel like the only man on this planet to get you this vulnerable and impure.

Except, he wasn’t. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he would feel when Geto arrived. The same Geto who had been there for him through thick and thin—who had been his best man at his own wedding. That Geto who was currently on his way over to his mansion, ready to fuck his lovely wife without a shred of hesitation. 

You bit on his lower lip, bringing back his attention to the task at hand. “You look so pretty, ‘Toru,” you purred in a husky whisper, running your soft hands down his sculpted chest. The diamond patterns dug into his skin, sure to leave an imprint behind when you released those binds later. Satoru fixed those beautiful, baby blue eyes onto you, and it shouldn’t turn you on this much to see him already halfway ruined for you.

“Baby, please,” he mumbled, and you felt his cock straining behind his sweatpants; itching to be buried in your tight heat. 

“Ssh,” you murmured, and he shivered when your red-tipped nails caught on his nipples. You pinched and flicked those pink nubs until they stiffened, an undeniable sign of his pure desire for you. “Let me take care of you, Satoru.” 

The sound of his name leaving your lips made a shiver wrack up his spine. Satoru held his breath when you kissed down his neck and collarbone, leading your painted red lips right to his pelvic bone. 

His cock stirred when you began to palm it, licking your lips when you noticed a growing wet patch on the front of his pants. 

“Already hard for me, baby?” you traced the shape of his leaking head with one teasing finger. “You need to have more self-control than that.”

If he was being honest, this was his karma for always stringing you on and denying your orgasms. Gojo could feel the frustration burning deep inside of him. For a man who was used to getting everything, having you within reach was the worst torture of his life.

He was close enough to ripping the ropes off and fucking you, when your sweet laughter chimed in his roaring ears. Your deviousness took him off guard when you slipped your hand under the waistband of his pants, finding his leaky cock and fisting it gently. 

Without a second of hesitation, you stroked him from base to tip, enjoying how his body jerked forward violently. The veins on his neck were popping, the one on his forehead almost bulging out as you twisted your wrist, feigning a sweet coo of apology when you grazed his balls.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered in fake sympathy. “Too sensitive?” 

“Gah—ugh,” Gojo gasped out, almost throwing you off his body with a sharp buck of his hips. 

The taste of his cock beckoned you to take it up a notch, and you didn’t fight back the urge. Scooting down the length of his longer torso, you gently drew down the waistband of his already soiled pants, greeted by the sight of his stiff cock rising in full mast. 

Satoru really did have the prettiest dick in the game. Girthy and longer than average with a vein running from base to tip, it begged for a mouth to salivate all over it. 

Gently kissing the flushed head, you heard him whine out your name. “Stop teasing me,” he huffed, pouting and looking so cute covered with sweat. “You’re being way too mean, pumpkin.”

He would believe your giggle to be innocence incarnate if only you didn’t do what you did next. 

Your tongue—that devilish trickster who could make him cum or cry depending on your mood—swiped over his weeping slit, toying with a string of precum connecting the supple flesh to that pink muscle. You shamelessly made out with his swollen tip, licking and sucking the mushroom-shaped head without any care to its poor, overstimulated owner. 

Satoru cried out, his abs undulating and clenching. Those blue eyes eclipsed over with immense need, going half-mast. But, you spared him no mercy.

Taking him down your throat was done with little to no resistance. Gojo’s lustful cries rebounded across the painted walls, his tied hands behind his back clenching and fisting the soft duvet to ground himself from the unending pleasure.

Your talented mouth worked up and down his length, and he really wished he hadn’t agreed to such stupid games—Gojo had never wanted to fuck you as badly as he did now, when he wasn’t allowed to.

“Fuck,” he mumbled coarsely, completely fixated on your face when you deep-throated him. Gojo couldn’t stop himself from throbbing all over at the sight of your throat bulging with the thick of him. 

It drove him close to insanity at how talented you were—your angelic mewls and moans spurring him on. 

His mouth fell open, lax and panting. “B-baby… please…” 

He had no idea what he was begging for, but he was solely motivated by the sweetest release you were constantly denying him. 

Whenever he approached his high, you would slow down your movements, or remove your mouth completely from his length. It frustrated him to no end, and the effect was imminent when his cock wouldn’t stop leaking milky white rivulets onto your palm. 

Giggling like the tease you were, you removed your thong, glistening and sticky with your juices to stuff it into his mouth. 

Satoru was a sight—cheeks flushed, frosty bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, mouth crammed full of lace. 

You wished you could take a photo or a video so the filthy sight would stick with you longer.

But, your time with Satoru’s obedience was running short. The strongest sorcerer was close enough to snapping out of his bondage and fucking you six ways into Sunday. You could taste his humiliation on the tip of your tongue, his impatience bleeding right through the air.

Geto should be here any minute now.

As if on cue, the front door opened, and both you and Satoru perked up.

His muffled moans were pathetic at best and panicked at worst. He would never imagine being in this position, not in a thousand years. 

He was Gojo Satoru—the chosen one, the heavenly one. To be debased right in his own marital bed by the woman who wore his commitment around her left finger was a considerable feat.

But, here he was, humbled right into his own Egyptian cotton sheets, while Geto stood by the doorway, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. His best friend took one look at him—the rope harness wrapped around his torso and the thong prised in between his teeth—and chuckled.

“Hey, Satoru.”

Geto tossed him an easy smile as he made his way towards the bed, every lanky fibre in his 6’4 body fused with amusement. “Getting comfortable?” 

Satoru’s glare was a sudden contrast from his usual jovial expression, and it would’ve been disconcerting had the stuck thong in his mouth not ruined the effect. 

You giggled, batting your eyelashes at Suguru. 

“I made him extra comfy, Suguru.”

Something about you saying Geto’s name, all sweet and teasing, made Satoru see red.

He huffed and groaned, shifting in his position like he was trying to sit up. 

“Uh-uh,” you murmured, gently pressing one palm into his broad chest to keep him in one position. “You promised not to get jealous, ‘Toru. Remember what you said?” 

Geto sidled up behind you, those large palms sliding up your hips to rest intimately on your sternum.

“‘I can handle it’,” Geto quipped, earning another baleful glare from Satoru. “Well, you did say you were the strongest—I guess even you’re not immune to jealousy.”

Gojo swore that he was close enough to ripping through these flimsy ropes and blasting Suguru into the next dimension. It was what he should’ve been doing, but he was torn; the sight unfurling before him was too enticing to look away. 

Suguru slowly inched one hand up your chest, clasping your neck. He pulled your face close to his parted lips, devouring your open-mouthed gasp with a kiss which had you moaning wantonly.

As if Gojo was merely a side character on his own bed, you straddled Suguru, deepening the kiss. 

And Satoru had no idea what was worse—having you tease him to his wits’ end, or not even having a shred of your attention. 

Geto’s tongue sliding deep into your mouth made you cry out his name, and Satoru quickly figured out which was the biggest horror. 

It wasn’t you denying him or ignoring him—it was watching you grind on his best friend’s lap and realising he enjoyed it. 

He liked watching you lose yourself to another man, how you bloomed for someone who wasn’t your own husband. Through these lenses, he could finally see what made him always come back for more; why he barely hesitated to put a ring on your finger without a second thought.

The woman he fell in love with and married was completely beautiful in the throes of her pleasure. 

In this position, Satoru wasn’t losing himself deep in the fog of lust and missing out on your ethereal expressions or heavenly moans. He was privileged to have a front row seat to your every reaction.

He watched pleasure unfurl itself across your face—from your mouth falling open to your eyebrows pinching together—as Suguru caressed your neck and collarbone with open-mouthed kisses. Satoru barely cared about the bastard who was having you for the night; he only had eyes for you. 

Sure, Geto was pretty experienced in the bedroom judging from the number of one night stands who were desperate enough to ask him for his best friend’s number. But, he could never hold a flame to Satoru’s sensual wife.

You let Geto push you down into the sheets, right next to your bound and gagged husband. The dark-haired sorcerer chuckled, helping you remove his shirt and pants, leaving him bare except for his boxers. 

Satoru watched, ignoring how his cock twitched pathetically when the both of you started kissing again. 

This time, you used more tongue and teeth than usual, the kiss a clash of wet slurps and crisp clacking which made every hair on Gojo’s body stand.

He couldn’t stop getting an eyeful of your pink tongue stroking Suguru’s lower lip. Every chamber of his heart clenched in pure agony and ecstasy as Geto kissed his way down your body, right to the apex of your bare thighs.

Hitching your shapely legs over his shoulders, Geto shamelessly ate out another man’s wife—licking, sucking and stroking her folds and clit with his broad tongue. His hair was already in a disarray from your clutching fingers, every sweet gasp that fell from your mouth driving both men insane.

“She tastes good, Satoru,” Geto’s words shocked him back rudely to the present. The dark-haired man threw him a smirk. “I can see why you married her.”

His nostrils flared, and a strong stab of jealousy surged through his entire soul when you twined your fingers in Suguru’s hair, drawing him back to your glistening cunt.

Geto spent a few minutes driving you to the edge, and judging by your moans and heavy breathing, you were definitely close.

Your soft whimper filled Satoru with spikes of disgust mixed with prickly intrigue. You were shamelessly grinding your pussy right into Geto’s mouth, whispering his name mixed with profanities which sounded awfully close to the curses you would spout when Satoru himself was fucking you.

But, like the twisted and curious fiend he was, Gojo remained silent and pliant, letting Suguru have his way with you.

The other man unclasped your bra, tossing it to the ground and going straight for your nipples; sucking, pinching and biting down on them hard enough to earn you sweet squeaks.

Satoru was quickly turning green with jealousy at your ecstatic sounds, and soon, the doubts crept in.

Does she love me?

Did she initiate this because she’s tired of me?

Did I do something wrong?

But, Gojo already knew the answers to those debilitating questions.

He loved you with every inch of his soul. You were the one thing he looked forward to coming home at the end of every day, and the last person he wished to hold as he drifted off to sleep every night.

Satoru treated you with nothing short of respect and worship like the goddess you were.

So, if he did everything right, then where did it all go so wrong?

“‘Toru,” you whimpered, as Geto lined his cock right up to your weeping slit. You turned to him, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I love you, Satoru.” 

As if your words were coated in fairy dust, his heart almost lifted right out of his ribcage.

Your sweet smile just before Geto sank right into your tight heat was embedded in his brain. It was like he was the only man in the room, even as you were fucking another.

Geto was pushing a pace that had your toes curling and head thrown back. But, you never once broke eye contact with Satoru.

An inexplicable wave of fondness filled Gojo’s heart right to the brim, and his own brilliant blue eyes softened, focused on the planes of a familiar face he loved with his entire soul. You giggled, bright and beautiful, cheek to the pillow while your hair bled out behind you like an eloquent ink stain.

You were so incredibly gorgeous it hurt.

Satoru barely noticed when Suguru filled you up. The only indication you gave him was a pinch in your brow and a soft gasp that mellowed out into a dulcet moan. Once the other man was done using your body, you broke eye contact to meet Suguru’s gaze, a certain friendly fondness written in the corners of your lips. 

Geto planted a perfunctory kiss on your forehead, a silent ‘thank you’ for involving him in your fantasies. 

He rose from between your thighs, shooting a knowing smile to his still bound and gagged bestfriend.

“See you on Monday, Satoru.” 

Gojo grumbled, blue eyes sharp as daggers staring at his broad back as it left the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The door closed on the two of you, and you exhaled a chuckle. 

“I didn’t cum,” you mumbled, and something about those words made Satoru’s ego flare up to terrible heights. He would always make sure you climaxed at the same time he did; it must’ve either been a hard limit you set with Geto, or the other man wasn’t as good in bed as Satoru thought he was.

Your husband snorted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look so smug.” 

Satoru didn’t listen to you. He looked pleased, humming in a low tone. 

You fished out your soaked thong from between his teeth. 

Gojo stretched out his jaw, and before he could run his mouth and say something which would ruin this moment, you perched yourself on his chest, spreading your folds.

A tiny trickle of cum was oozing down your plush folds, and your husband barely felt an inch of disgust when he grinned.

“Gonna make me eat you out now, baby?” he rasped. 

You rolled your eyes again—he should really spank you silly for that—and rose on your knees, presenting your used pussy to him.

“Ready, big boy?” 

Satoru was born ready. He curled forward, wiggling further up the pillows to give himself more leverage to plant his mouth on your waiting cunt. You gasped, completely taken aback by how feverishly Gojo was eating you out—eating up his best friend’s cum from your abused hole.

Your eyes were halfway rolling back into your skull, small fingers gripping the headboard with enough strength to leave a dent behind. 

Satoru was in pure heaven—if heaven was tainted with the taste of hell. 

The bitter taste of another man lingering in between your folds filled him with a mixture of disgust and exhilaration. Never in a million years would the Satoru Gojo—the universe’s favourite and blessed one—think he would be in such a situation. This release of power filled him with a rush of disorientating high, kind of like that one time he ate twenty daifukus in one go. 

And judging from the sweet sounds you made, you were just as turned on from this taboo act as he was. 

Gojo swore he could cum from just one touch of his cock; Gojo Jr. was flushed red with neglect, begging for you to pay attention to him. 

The relief which flooded through his chest could’ve rendered him on his knees, in tears, when you pried your pussy away from him, focused now on fisting his cock.

“D-Don’t,” Gojo stuttered coarsely. “Might cum, sweetheart—f-fuck—wanna do it inside.”

His disjointed words and broken moans shot straight up in your head, leaving you dizzy with the pure power of rendering the strongest sorcerer incoherent. Gojo actually whimpered when you nudged his fat tip past your entrance, his beautiful oceanic eyes glazing over. 

“F-fuck, pumpkin,” he groaned obscenely, and you couldn’t take it anymore—bottoming out in a sharp, swift movement, the both of you crying out in ecstasy. 

“Oh, fuck,” Gojo swore lowly when you began to buckle your hips, riding him all slow and sensual. 

His head thumped back into the soft pillows, a ragged moan of surrender leaving his peachy lips. You were too distracted by how plush they looked, and pitched forward swiftly to kiss him while you rode him to oblivion.

There were no sounds in the room but both your harsh breathing. You were growing dizzier and dizzier, all the oxygen knocked out from your lungs as you tried to chase your high because as much as you were teasing Gojo, you were teasing yourself, too.

“‘Toru,” you whimpered. He eyed you rubbing your clit with pure hunger in those ethereal eyes, lost in the mind-numbing motion of you bucking your hips back and forth back and forth to take him to that sacred point. 

Your thighs were beginning to tremble, and Gojo immediately knew you were going to cum. You clamped down on him at the same time your head tossed back, and before you could comprehend, Gojo used whatever remained of his core strength to flip you onto the mattress.

With his hands tied behind his back, Satoru still managed to fuck you into the sheets. You instinctively steadied him, arms vined tightly around his shoulders. This position was incredibly intimate; you could feel his broken moans fanning across your neck, his face hidden in the crook of your jaw. Every pore of his body was bleeding into yours, the both of you physically closer than any human could be.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to live in his skin, be one with his bones.

Satoru was a part of you, and you were a part of him. Always.

He lived in your every trembling exhale, while you made a home on his lips, where he could taste you for a lifetime of pleasure.

“I love you,” your harsh whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

Roaming your hands down his broad back, you grazed your nails on his undercut, eliciting a full-bodied shiver from the strongest sorcerer.

“I love you, Satoru.”

“‘Course you do,” he grunted, lifting his face to clumsily kiss down your jaw. “M’the only one who could ever make you cum, baby.” 

And as he predicted so smugly, his words were true. 

Your connection with Gojo would forever break through any logic or emotions, even the boundaries of what your body was capable of.

In a few short minutes, you were dissolving for him, your cries of pleasure filling his ears like the prettiest sonnets. Gojo continued to fuck you through your climax, and you were too keyed up enough that you came again; your wails could’ve brought the ceiling down. White splashed out in your vision, your mouth opened in a silent scream.

A well of warmth filled you up, reclaiming his mark on your womb. 

Instantly, Gojo’s entire body weight sank into you, smothering the breath from your aching lungs.

You took a few minutes to come back to the ground, fluttering your eyes open and finding him still trying to catch his breath.

Quickly, you unwound the ropes from him, and just like you predicted, the imprints left in his skin were glorious. You held him in the seam of embrace as you massaged his aching shoulders, careful to show him more love now that he was all vulnerable and pouty.

“Satoru?” you whispered carefully.

Gojo mumbled something under his breath, and you fought back a spreading smile from how petulant he sounded.

“You alright, sweetie?” 

“Hmm,” he rubbed his cheeks into your throat like a needy kitten. “Never been better.”

“I love you, you know that?”

He hummed again. 

“Baby?” 

Tuning in fully, you nodded. “Yeah, baby?” 

“Next time I share you with Suguru, you’re gonna be the one tied up.”

Not a request; it was a statement.

You could barely wait till the next devious time.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[sweetlittlefawntears]

☆ the woods

e. williams x fem! reader

cw: smut duh, not proofread, established relationship, hunter/hunted kink, blood play (kinda idk) mild weapon kink (knife), sex outside, degradation, intentional lowercase, fingering and strap on sex (r receiving), dom ellie and sub reader (IM SORRY OK I LIKE DOM ELLIE SUE ME)

au: okay ill post again bro i actually feel bad but im back from the dead I'm literally sobbing banging my head on the keyboard having to write this but I'm not dead ok guys.

you had hopped up from the comfy yet old sofa you and ellie were sitting on after a slight argument, saying you wanted to "take a walk." ellie protested, but you both knew the best thing after a disagreement like this was for one of you to get some fresh air. it was a crisp cool autumn night, the wind bustling along with the leaves of the trees down the path by you and ellies sweet little home. It was pleasant. The woods behind your house served as a beautiful painting, a work of art for you to look at.

as you walked past some of the trees, you ended up at a wooden fence, finally deciding to stop there to look out over the watery colors of the setting sun, when a slender hand came up behind you and gently touched the side of your shoulder.

the touch startled you, but you turned around quickly to see the familiar hardened face of your girlfriend, ellie williams. her eyes looked tired, but relieved to see you. "you're jumpy." she commented.

"sorry..." you trail off quietly, not wanting to fight anymore with her. "hey, hey. don't be like that." ellie said, grabbing your face almost forcefully. she looked at you with those piercing eyes, the ones that made you feel like she could see your entire past and future with just one glance. you immediately cave in, wanting her to just have you right there and then. it was hard to stay mad at her.

without missing a single moment, without even hesitating, you kissed her. soft and sloppy, exactly the way you knew she'd like, breathy sounds escaping into her mouth, the cold of the fall air and the sound of leaves rustling from the forest behind you had disappeared, and all you could hear was the sound of your own heart beating in your chest and the sound of ellies lips, now chapped from the cold pressed against yours.

you whimpered, suddenly needy and eager for her, but just as you started to want more, she pulled away, a dark look in her eyes. shit. "you think you can get off that easy?" she said, looking at you and grasping the front of the woven blue sweater she had given you. you stayed silent, knowing exactly what was coming, what she had planned for you. "you know, i don't think you deserve to move on from being such a little fucking brat earlier." she said, looking down at you.

and that's why, after all of the soft moments you had shared just a few minutes ago seemed to turn into years ago, you were running from her, into the cold woods, the light peering out from the canopy of the tree tops, the pale moonlight being the only thing you could see along with the crushing of leaves and small pebbles beneath your feet.

you knew you couldn't run from her forever. she enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, it was like a reward, you were her little mouse, so pure trying to run away from her, desperate to get away from whatever she wanted to do when she eventually got you. just as you thought you could not run another inch you stumbled, tripping over yourself onto the ground on all fours, your knees scraped through your jeans, bloody hands and all. what a sight for ellie to behold.

ellie came up behind you. you could feel her presence. "gotcha..." she whispered before grabbing you and pulling you up, a whimpering mess for her. it was pathetic and you knew it. the worst part? you liked it. you genuinely liked it. you mentally hit yourself in the head for getting off on being chased and caught by her, your own girlfriend. it was certainly a sick fantasy, but you loved it. you loved her having you like this.

you still squirmed, your back to her front, unable to fend for yourself at last, pitifully trying to get away, though you really didn't want to. "stop." ellie said, holding you closer to her. as you softly whimpered for her to release you, though you knew it was all for nothing.

"shut the fuck up." ellie said, grabbing her switchblade from her pocket, holding it up to where your jeans had torn earlier, slowly deepening the cut along the seams, whilst slowly dragging the blade ever so softly over your skin. you winced, the blade sharp across your smooth skin. it wasn't deep enough to truly even cause a scar, but the cut still stung as it was freshly opened up to the chill air surrounding you.

"you ready to give up?" ellie said, still holding you close to your body, your legs pushing away from her, but her grip didn't loosen. eventually, you half gave up and allowed her to slip her hand down your soft stomach into your jeans. truly, you wanted this, you didn't want to be bratty, but there was no way you'd let her get her way with you that easy. you were better than that.

but you weren't good enough to withstand the growing arousal pooling in your stomach, the way her slender fingers slid along your slit, the way she whispered in your ear; "s'fucking perverted bun, your cunt is fucking dripping." the pads of her fingers rubbing circles around your clit, harshly, almost needily, but you knew better than to think she truly meant this to be loving. no, she wanted you to be a ruined, drooling, sloppy mess when she was finished with you.

"so needy, looks like you're in heat or somethin'." she mocked you, and although you whimpered at her comment, your body was roaring its approval of her words. you wanted to tell her, to tell her she was right, that you were nothing other than her toy, that you needed her to touch you in any and every way possible, but your mind was growing fuzzier with each second.

ellie absolutely adored seeing you like this, lips puffy from biting them, watery doe eyes, face slightly sweating, and soft whimpers and pants coming from those soft delicate little lips of yours.

you whimpered under the delicate drawn out touches to your clit, the rubbing from her fingers making your body and brain go numb, all you could focus was on her.

“mmh, yeah. dont tell me you dont like it, your little cunt is absolutely soaked, bun.” ellie whispered. you shook your head as if to tell her to stop teasing, desperately trying now to get off on her touching you. “no? you dont like it?” she said, almost sneering. “dont fucking lie.”

ellie moved her hand out from underneath those cute lacey panties of yours, out from under your jeans, having you groaning at the feeling of being overly sensitive.

“thought i told you to shut up.” ellie said, and, too quick for you, immediately pushed you down onto the leave-strewn ground, your slightly scraped up hands making contact with the cold dirt of the woodland floor. ellie didn’t waste any time in pulling those jeans off of you.

she dragged her blade along your thigh, allowing the droplets of your blood to fall onto her knife. pulling down those small, soft white panties of yours, clad in nothing but the blue sweater and your ass up in the air, on all fours, like some bitch in heat. what a sight to behold.

cunt dripping slick down your thighs, ellies fingers pounding inside you, pulling your hair, and giving harsh slaps to your asscheck which made you whimper even more from the sweet stinging pain.

her fingers felt like heaven inside you, your poor little hole being fucked over and over again by her. and worse of it all, you really fucking enjoyed it. you felt so pathetic, and even worse when you came onto her fingers, drenching her hand and your thighs with your sticky milky white cum.

”s’all for me, huh?” ellie said as she fucked her fingers into you, helping you ride out your climax. “goddamn, you’re too fucking easy, y’know that?”

eventually, she helps cloth you again, and you walk back, clinging onto your girlfriend like she didnt just have you on all fours, getting off to being chased and caught by her like some stupid naive prey.

as you walked back to your house, entirely fucked out and holding onto ellie, she buried her face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, the night air filling with soft “i love yous”.

hi bro i cannot believe i wrote this in like maybe two hours lmfao i kinda am excited to start writing again but it scares me my stuff will freaking flop ANYWAYS hai i hope u enjoy .. :( theres no fics about ellie chasing u so i took it upon myself to make one !! have a good day / night n remember to drink water !! :3

[amaranthineghost]

| EVERY GODDAMN INCH OF YOUR SKIN IS MINE ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: he can't stand her, but he can't keep his eyes off her

ꕥ authors note: I tried to make their thoughts parallel? if that makes sense. whenever it's focused on lando, it says his feelings or thoughts, and then to the reader, it's repeated in a way. so if it's repetitive, it's purposeful. also this was so like awkward to write ?? how do people do this all the time? and I would've gotten this out sooner but black friday shifts kicked my ass sooooo. gonna focus on requests after this :3 (last half unrevised because I wanted to get this out so I might edit some errors)

ꕥ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, etc.

HE COULDN'T STAND HER. from her mere existence to the tiniest detail of her. from the way she carried herself to the freckled skin of her body. the way she wore her hair, the dip in her skin just above her thighs. the curvature of her spine. her god-awful voice that came out of her pink, pouty lips. her half-lidded, tired eyes that had the color of pools of honey when they basked in the light.

he fucking hated it.

the way her hips swayed more than usual and her hands delicately grasped the handrail as she sauntered down the steps to the party. she wasn't apart of it before and she wouldn't be now. he would make sure of it. eventually.

his eyes burned into her even, pale skin. he fucking hated how she acted so oblivious. the way her body wore the blue, striped brandy melville shorts. how they rode up her figure and clung to her in seemingly all the right places. the tiny piece of cloth, that he would barely consider a shirt, exposing the valley of her back when it was naturally arched just slightly.

the way her dark eyes scanned the crowd, occasionally catching a streak of light. the way her lips barely parted. her lashes fluttering as she blinked painfully slow as he watched her. he could've swore she was in slow motion.

she looked out of place. he couldn't stand it. he couldn't stand the eyes on her, glancing over their shoulders. but he was one of those pairs of eyes.

and so were his friends who surrounded him, but he paid no attention to them. his eyes were on her. they had been ever since he caught that first glimpse of her.

he always swore he couldn't stand her, he repeated it more times than his friends could count. he swore he hated her, but his friends saw the way he looked at her.

he always cursed them, muttering that he looked at her with disgust, contempt, hatred. and sure, they saw that.

but there was always something hidden in the glint of his eyes that they couldn't even identify. though they'd never mention it to him.

they'd never question when he would tune out the world to keep his eyes on her. the first time it happened, they'd teased him relentlessly, but got brushed off by him. they wouldn't tease him anymore. not in his presence anyways. more behind closed doors and in light-hearted manner about his silly infatuation.

and not only did they know there was always something more, but they knew how to push the right buttons to prove it. and the way to do it was simply by conversing with the girl, or speaking about her in his vicinity.

he'd always bark back at their remarks about her. telling them to quit, or get lost. because only he was allowed to say such things.

and when they'd raise their hands in drunken defense, laughing it off as they held a beer bottle in their hands, he scoffed at their behavior.

she wasn't his. he reminded them unfailingly, even though he acted like it.

but just because she didn't belong to him, it didn't mean anyone else could have her. he made sure of it. he always did.

she laughed breathlessly, a red flush to her face as she kept the corners of her lips upturned. she was rather engaged in the conversation before her with the tall gentleman she knew as george russell. though she knew he had a girlfriend, so the interaction was nothing more than catching up with one another.

they'd known each other for years, being introduced to the other by their mutual relationship, carmen.

even though she reiterated numerous times that the brit was nothing, but a brother to her, she knew a certain someone would always make a deal out of it.

the interaction between the two lasted no more than a few minutes when george had tapped his finger on her shoulder and lazily pointed behind her, "you've got a secret admirer," he'd joke, shaking his head with a smile before taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. his curled hair lightly bounced as he did so.

she twisted her upper body. her eyes flickered between faces and bodies to find him, searching relentlessly.

there he was.

with his drink in his hand, his eyes bore into hers so uncomfortablely, she felt chills down her spine. he swore he could see the goosebumps rising on her skin from where he sat, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel his pants get tighter.

she despised him.

she hated how he'd always find her in a room and never lose her. he'd scare off any guy that even came within ten feet of her, but wouldn't even come as close himself.

she hated the way his eyes were so green, like fresh cut grass, or like the leaves of evergreen trees in winter. the way the light hit them and how his pupils turned to pins, revealing the gold ring of his eye.

she hated his damn skin. the perfect evenness of his tanned flesh. the way his veins were so perfect, like he had lightning from the sky in his very hands. and how they branched up his arms, stopping just as they got to his bicep.

though as much as she loathed when he would intimidate potential hotties who tried to win her over, part of her would be thankful for all the times his eyes were on her. especially with unwanted presences. she had that to thank him for.

a blurred hand waved in front of her face, breaking the contact between her and norris. she breathed a sigh of relief when she once again looked at george.

"and you're telling me you guys hate each other?" he scoffed and shook his head, "bullshit."

he muttered the last thing under his breath, striding away, which prompted her to look back at the green-eyed brit. biting her bottom lip, her eyes travelled down his arms and lightning struck veins. she noticed the dark, silver rings on his fingers and she would be lying if she said her stomach didn't have butterflies.

his jaw clenched as she practically eye-fucked him, god she made it difficult. rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, he raised his glass to his mouth. a smirk pulled on the corner of his lips at the thought of her getting turned on merely by his arms alone.

his hand tightened around the object, so harshly it could've shattered. he watched a guy strut his way to his girl.

what? what was he saying, she isn't his. he rubbed his eyes, assuring himself it was the alcohol talking for him.

by the time he focused his vision upon her again, the scumbag he didn't even know had reached her.

to him, it was one thing if he knew them, it was another when he didn't and that's what made him angry. he could trust another driver to back off.

he bit his tongue painfully between his teeth, he could've drawn blood. he was debating on what to do. normally, he would stand from afar, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. he was fed up of the line of guys that pushed and scrambled to even get a chance to say a word to her.

his glass slammed down on the table, the cool alcohol splashing up and back down onto the table and some on his hand. it made the people around him flinch, and his friends raised brows. he wouldn't see, they knew where his eyes belonged. and probably his heart too.

he huffed a dramatic sigh. he pushed himself from the elevated table, the cushioned stool he sat on scraped painfully loud against the wooden floors. but he didn't care. he wanted her. he wanted her away from any guys, at least.

so when he stood up so abruptly, shoving past his friends who threw whistles his direction as he charged to her. he ignored the sounds of their cheers, tuning them out as usual as he tunnel-visioned on her. he swore he saw red.

it took all of three seconds for him to manifest behind her, he towered over her petite frame. but instead of his gaze being on the back of her head, he glared at the guy before her.

the guy noticed lando before she did, but she knew when his arm spread around her back, his forearm folding across the skin of her collarbones. she felt his fingers graze the base of her neck and he played with the gold necklace she had clasped. chills falling down each vertebrae of her spine as his chest pressed against her back.

lando looked like he could kill. he would, and he might.

with a harsh shove to the shoulder, lando told the guy, "back off."

the guy raised his hands in defense, drunkenly muttering a slur of words inaudible to their ears. lando nodded his head to the side, signaling him to get out and the guy stumbled away.

watching lando's behavior and demeanor, other guys in the vicinity took the intiative to scurry away. they didn't want a fight. he did though.

she felt the flush of anger rise in her body as she watched all the guys in the general proximity to her and lando flee. potential and non-potential hotties alike. her tongue rolled across her cheek, and she sighed heavily.

she grasped at the wrist that held her to him. it was warm, contrast to the cold dangling of bracelets and few charms that decorated it. the frigid feeling of his jewelry sent shivers through her arm and down her body, residing in her stomach, more than she would care to admit.

she peeled his arm off her. the warmth that was spread across her chest left when his tanned skin did. but her heart remained fuzzy. why?

she faced him. an obviously unpleasant expression written all over her face. but she still held his wrist in her hand.

"what the hell was that, lando?" she looked up at him through her lashes, but venom flecked through her eyes. he studied the creases in her skin while she furrowed her brows at him, he knew the look. he knew it too well. he would be lying if he said his stomach didn't do a flip.

"what was what?" he muttered in a way that made her think he had a few too many drinks. that he was acting on the alcohol, but really, he was staring at her. he wouldn't admit it though. never.

"what's wrong with you, norris?" she exclaimed to him. her hands lifted, taking his arm up with her as they slapped back down to her thighs, "im not doing this with you. you always do this."

she dropped his wrist and turned around to storm off back upstairs but his hand caught her wrist this time. he pulled her back, her shoulder colliding with the bare of his chest, due to his white shirt that had a few too many buttons undone.

"do what?" his demeanor changed when he clenched his jaw. her strong energy that came at him weakened as she watched the muscles on his cheek. she pursed her lips, her tongue gliding against her teeth.

she glanced around uncomfortablely, noticing the gather of gazes from different groups they'd collected with his shenanigans. she shifted in her stance.

he noticed this. he knew the shift of her behavior when she didn't like something. he knew her like the back of his hand. he hated it, but loved it at the same time.

he'd understood the thought of this conversation being heard by those who surrounded them, it was like there was no escape. but he would create one.

with his hand still grasping her, he dragged her through the crowd. he had shoulder-checked practically everyone he pushed through to get back to the stairs. she nearly lost him in the crowd due to the height of some of the party-goers.

but when they'd reach the stairs, she thought that the pull-along would abruptly end—she was wrong.

she knew how to walk up stairs. she thought it was stupid of him to keep leading her through her own house. he didn't even know where her room was.

except he did. so when he barged into her room, pulling her in front of him to shut and lock the door behind him, she confronted him.

"what is your problem?" she spoke so outwardly now and her voice barely echoed off the walls. she nearly flinched when he took just a few steps to reach the position in which she stood.

"you. you are my fuckin' problem." he spoke lowly, but god, she felt herself turn to putty as he kept striding towards her until her back pressed the cold wall.

she looked up at him and gulped, staying silent, which prompted him to continue speaking.

"you are my problem because you can't stop talking to every single goddamn guy in the world," his head leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. she felt like she was getting scolded, maybe she was. maybe she kind of liked it.

but she wouldn't dare admit it.

"and parading around in these-" his finger hooked the waistband of her shorts, pulling them away from her body and then releasing it to slap back onto her skin, "-slutty little shorts doesn't fucking help."

"fuck you, norris." she spat back, their forehead touching and noses grazing. but she didn't anticipate the hand that settled on her neck. the pretty lightning of veins that became more prominent.

she felt his fingers pressured the sides of her neck, her heart rate increasing dramatically. she felt like jelly in his hands, molded into shape.

he scoffed, 'tsk'ing at her words as he shook his head with a smirk. a smirk from him was never good.

he looked into her eyes, a lustful glint revealed with the streak of light, "maybe I'll just have to fuck the attitude out of you."

he watched the way her pupils dilated, the already dark of her eye becoming black as the words left his mouth. she felt a feeling of desperacy between her thighs.

he knew he had power over her. he didn't know he had this much. and just to prove it, he slid his finger up her neck, near her jaw for a pulse. a fast one.

he chuckled lowly, it sounded evil.

he looked in her eyes as his hand slide up the length of her neck, resting just as her jaw as his thumb caressed along the line. his forehead pressed against her.

a phantom feeling of his lips grazing hers, but not closing the space. not yet. not without.

"is it okay?." he asked simply. and she nodded against him.

but it wasn't good enough. maybe for others it would be, but not him. he needed to hear it. confirmation.

"words." was all he said, but she got the memo, rolling her eyes slightly, but nonetheless.

" 's okay-"

it was all he needed. he closed the gap of their lips within milliseconds. the suddenness of the warm flesh against her lips incited a small gasp, which split her lips just enough for him to intrude her mouth with his tongue.

she didn't fight with him. she knew he would win. he always does. even if the odds were never in his favor, he'd play the right cards.

but she was desperate. desperate for the taste of his faded spearmint gum and booze from his mouth in hers. it might've been an odd combination of flavor for anyone else, but to her, it made sense. to her, it was what she's been searching for.

their lips molded together. they were made for no one else but each other, at least that's what it felt like.

lando's other hand traveled down the exposed skin of her side, feeling the rising goosebumps. she felt him smirk against her lips and with the hand tangled in his curly hair, she tugged lightly. she felt the vibrations of his groans in response to her actions.

but it didn't stop his hand that traveled down her waist, and then hips, and then her thigh. she felt the smooth of his palms and fingertips as they parted her legs slightly, coming to rest on the inner most part of her thigh.

she felt her heart thump in her chest, the rising excitement in her body and the want to be touched by him. only him. she hadn't realized how much she could have wanted this to happen until now.

how often she'd find herself on the bed, that laid barely ten feet away, under plush covers with her skin covered in sweat, baby hairs that never grew out sticking to her forehead. how often she'd find herself saying his name rather than anyone else as she had her hands between her thighs, the hand she pictured to be his. like his hand is about to be.

his hand creeping up her skin, teetering on the edge of her laced panties under her striped shorts. he dipped his fingers around the hem before pulling away, teasing the idea of giving into what she had fantasized. but he wouldn't know she got off to the thought of him.

and she wouldn't know he did too, letting her name slip past his lips one too many times while he satisfied himself with her in mind. one too many times too loud too.

their lips split from each other, their heavy breaths only heard by the two of them, and they could still hear the bass of the music that raved downstairs.

her head found his shoulder, pressing herself into the white linen button-up that unfortunately covered his torso. the hand in his hair remained, tugging at his curls every time he did something she liked. her other arm snaked around the back of his neck for support.

he smirked. he hadn't done much yet, and he wanted to keep messing with her mind.

though, lando wanted to give her some satisfaction, so he ran his finger along her clothed core, shaking his head at the strangled moan that slipped past her lips.

pressing the side of his face to hers, she felt his breath pan across her ear, " 'm going to need you to be quiet for me, love. can you do that?"

butterflies in her stomach, her head shook desperately, but once again, it wasn't enough for lando.

"words, darling," his lips met the skin below her ear, his hand slipping beyond the cloth barrier. he felt the heat that radiated from between her thighs, ghostly touching her.

"f-fuck," she groaned, clenching the hair between her fingers, "yes."

"good girl," he smirked against her skin, she felt it but she was too desperate to say anything to prolong what she needed from him.

two of his fingers ran across her cunt painfully slow, feeling how wet she was for him. it was an ego boost to have her like putty in his hand.

her thighs clenched together at the contact, a strained groan caught in her throat as she bit her lip. she knew she was desperate, but she didn't expect herself to melt like this for him.

he lifted her leg apart from the other, supporting it with his hand on the backside of her knee.

lando teased her a bit more, enjoying the struggling sounds that managed to escape her sporadically. eventually, he slipped his fingers all the way into her cunt, feeling his knuckles press her skin. with his thumb, he teased her clit, practically sending her over the edge

he felt her walls clench around him as he remained unmoving for a few seconds for her to collect herself, only to be ruined again as he thrusted his fingers slowly. she struggled to keep it to herself, her eyes were screwed shut and her lip could've bled from how hard she bit it.

but when he picked up the pace, she was gone. she couldn't keep quiet, letting out her moans into his white button tee, which somewhat muffled them.

his pace remained steady, and he could tell she was reaching her point after a while when her moans upped an octave and her clenching around him.

it felt like heaven, a feeling she could've never achieved with her own two hands, she hadn't. but he did.

he slowed his fingers as she came down, pulling out of her cunt and panties. she raised her head and looked at him as sweat coated her forehead, causing those same baby hairs to stick to her skin.

they stared each other in the eyes as he raised his hands, covered in her slick, his mouth. he stuck open his tongue, running his fingers across it and licking them before smirking at her face.

"you taste sweet, darling," he pushed strands of hair behind her ear with his other hand.

he picked her up, his hands under her thighs supporting her weight while he walked a few steps to her messy, unmade bed. he threw her gently, the springs of her bed squeaking quietly against the shift of weight.

she laid, propped on her elbows as lando pressed his knees into the bed. his hands sunk the bed below him as he practically crawled on top of her. it prompted her to lay fully on her back, her hair sprawled on the piled blanket behind her.

one of his hands came to rest at the side of her head. pushing into the bed, he pulled himself closer to her as he dipped his head into the crevice of her neck, biting lightly on her skin.

she'd let out little winces at the feeling, her hands finding the buttons of his shirt, though it seemed half were already undone. but when she spread his shirt to the side, she ran her fingers down his chest, through his light abs that twitched under her cold fingertips. she smiled softly at the happy-trail on his stomach, tracing down it and along to his v-line. he groaned against her neck.

she fetched his belt around her fingers, working the clasp desperately to get it undone. she needed him and he knew that. which is why he is letting her do the work to get to him.

when she'd finally undo it, she pulled it from the loops, tossing it aside on her carpeted floor. she focused back on his dark jeans, fumbling with getting the button undone.

he noticed this, and only because he wanted it as badly as she did, he disconnected his lips from her flesh, momentarily standing off the bed to slip from his jeans, and pulling off the unbuttoned shirt from his body. they laid on the floor to get cold.

and now, to him, she was too clothed. he needed to see her skin, her curves. he wanted her. he wouldn't lie, not at this point.

so he'd crawl back across her, his bare skin appealing to her. his hands landed on her hips as he lifted them in the air. his fingers curled around the elastic of her shorts and panties as he dragged them down leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. like time had stopped and they were the only ones moving.

he'd let the cloth get to her ankles before letting her finish the work, advancing back up her body to rid the tiny top he barely deemed appropriate for anyone other than him to see.

he pulled it over her head, her arms spread above her head as the cold air greeted her chest. he wasn't surprised she didn't have anything under the top, he didn't expect her to in her own house.

he exhaled shakily at the sight of her chest. she was perfect to him. he admired her features from above. the curves of her body that dipped in the right places, the goosebumps scattered on her skin, her hard nipples from the cold air.

he pulled her to towards him by her hips, her wet cunt colliding with the tent that had built in his tent. their groans synced as they grinded against each other, the other thing stopping them was the cloth of his boxers. her clit was sensitive against the rough cotton and she whimpered softly.

he felt the cold sensation of her slick dampen his underwear, practically throbbing to feel her, to have her. low groans escaped his lips, his fingertips digging into her bare hips, turning her skin white.

he, unadmittedly, was desperate for her. he could've torn the cloth of his boxers, but he didn't care. he had money for more but he didn't have this moment forever. he wished he did.

dripping with precum, he stroked himself a few times, looking at her, he could've gotten himself off just to the visual of her.

he moved back over her body, lining himself when she pripped herself on her elbows, "no condom?"

he shook his head, mumbling as he pushed her shoulders back down, " 's fine, I'll buy you plan b, jus' need you," he admitted it. he really did.

she wouldn't lie when she said she needed him too. she had for a while. he seemed to be the answer to most of her problems.

he'd slowly push the tip in, watching her expression closely as she winced. he dipped back to her neck, kissing the skin and leaving more small marks she knew she would curse him for in the morning. but it helped.

it'd also help when she'd dig her fingernails into the even skin of his back, now ruined by red scratches he would stare at for hours after. he would've proudly displayed them if he could.

he shushed her in her ear, slowing pushing himself further into her. he let out of a low moan against her neck. he stayed like that for ten seconds, relishing in the capsulating feeling of taking her.

when he'd move, his thrusts started slow and even, he was cautious. the skin of his hips pressed into the back of her thighs every time he'd push himself all the way in, forcing her to take all of him.

and when her small cries turned to whimpers and moans, letting out strings of curses and his name, every so often, he'd take it as a sign to start thrusting quicker.

moans got louder and the sound of their skin contacting filled the room. he'd force her to quiet down with his hand on her mouth, muffing her unfortunately so pretty moans against it. her head fell back with her chest arching against his.

"eyes on me, pretty girl," he'd manage through heavy breaths, looking into her dark and very dilated eyes. his forehead came to rest against hers and watched her face. her mouth was open, he could feel it against his hand. her skin was flushed and red, skin sweating, making her hair stick to her face. he couldn't be more turned on.

he knew she was close, he was too. like earlier, she clenched around him, her mouths loudening under his hand, increasing in pitch.

she knew he was close by the uneven pace and his thrusts, his eyes becoming half-lidded and his lips glued to her skin

with his free hand, he rubbed circles on her clit, which seemed to set her over the edge as he watched her eyes almost roll back, feeling her walls clench around him.

"fuck," he groaned as he came with her. it was hard not to when he had waiting for this for a long time. too long.

his thrusts slowed greatly as their highs rode away. he felt onto the space or the bed beside her, panting heavily as they laid side by side.

the reality that they'd just fucked set it. they were supposed to hate each other, everyone knew that. but everyone also knew the tension between the two was more than just one feeling of hatred.

he'd disprove his hatred when he'd clean her up gently, with a damp, microfiber towel he'd stolen from the bathroom. he'd pick out a new shirt for her that covered her significantly better than her previous one. he'd dress her, wash her up and put her in bed.

he'd already gotten dressed against when he'd tuck the blanket by her side, he went to walk away, but the sound of her tired voice called to him, "lando, can you stay?"

her voice was sleepy, her eyes were glazed as she laid on her side, but her back was to him. he stopped in his tracks and turned back around. his belt was in his hand, but he'd dropped it immediately. disgarding his shirt and jeans, he dragged his feet against the carpet to the other side of the bed.

when he'd slip into bed, before he could even pull the covers back atop him, she had her arms around him, her face against his chest, and her leg around his waist.

his eyes softened and the warmth of having her against him wasn't so bad. he actually loved it. he would admit that.

he went to bed with a smile on his face and his girl.

the light had shown through the window, the lacy curtains, spilling onto his face. he grimaced at the light, groaning as he sat up in the bed.

they had separated during the night, but her legs remained across his stomach, he ran his hand across her leg, caressing it.

he yawned, taking in the nice, early morning when the door to her room had opened. he'd see his friends looking curiously around the room, seemingly looking for him.

when they'd see him, they silently cheer and giggle. they were definitely going to use this against him. about how right they were.

he chucked a pillow at them, which prompting them to fler before he causes harm. the door shut quietly and he laid back down with his hands under his head.

a smile crossed his face as he felt her against him again.

[novaursa]

Fire and Blood (reader's choice)

- Summary: For as long as Maegor could remember, you were denied to him by others. By his own father, by his half-brother, by the gods themselves. They saddled him off with a barren bride and locked you away on Dragonstone. And once Aenys died and Maegor has returned from exile to take the crown, he also takes you, as was his right. But before the wedding could happen, you disappear. You never arrive at the capital with your royal procession. And Maegor tears the realm apart.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The air was heavy with the heat of the afternoon sun, and the sky above King's Landing was an expanse of pale blue. The waters of Blackwater Bay sparkled under the light, and the wind carried the scent of salt and stone, mingling with the hum of the city behind. The Red Keep loomed in the background, a skeletal structure still rising from the hill, its walls unfinished, its towers yet to scrape the heavens as Maegor intended. The clatter of hammers and the creak of scaffolding were distant echoes, reminders of the power he was building, brick by brick.

But today, all of that faded into insignificance. Maegor Targaryen stood with his mother, Visenya, the only one who had ever stood by him. His bannermen, royal retainers, and lords stood at a respectful distance, their whispers nothing but gnats in his ears as he stared out at the empty horizon. You were supposed to arrive today, your royal procession expected any moment, the ships that carried you from Dragonstone cutting across the bay.

You. His bride. His blood. His right.

His gloved hands tightened around the pommel of Blackfyre, the ancient sword of his house, as his mind drifted, despite himself, back to all the times you had been denied to him.

His father, King Aegon the Conqueror, had made the first refusal. Maegor had been young then, but old enough to know what he wanted. You were young too, of course, but even then, Maegor saw the fire in your eyes, the way the blood of Old Valyria ran through you. You were his match in every way. He had stood before his father, demanding you be betrothed to him.

"It is not your place to demand, Maegor," Aegon had said, his voice calm, but his eyes cold. "Your brother's daughter is not for you. Aenys' children will be wed to strengthen the realm, not to satisfy your desires."

It was the first time Maegor had felt the sting of denial, but it would not be the last.

His half-brother, Aenys, had been no better. When he became king after Aegon’s death, Maegor thought surely now, with the crown on his brother’s head, he could finally claim what was his. You had grown by then, blooming into a woman with the beauty and strength of their ancestors. Maegor had approached Aenys, who sat upon the Iron Throne, looking every inch the weak ruler he was.

"You will not have her," Aenys had said, shaking his head. "She is promised elsewhere."

"To whom?" Maegor had demanded, his voice laced with barely contained rage. "Who could be more worthy of her than I, her blood and kin?"

"A match will be made in time, but not to you, brother," Aenys had answered, his tone patronizing. "I have other plans for her."

Other plans. The words still tasted bitter on Maegor’s tongue, as though they had been spoken only yesterday.

He had begged. Yes, even he, Maegor the Cruel, had begged. But only to one person. His mother, Visenya. The warrior queen, the woman who had conquered Westeros by Aegon’s side. The only person who had ever truly understood him.

"I will not be denied her," he had told Visenya, pacing the halls of Dragonstone in frustration. "Father, Aenys, the gods themselves conspire against me. They will not give her to me."

Visenya, regal and fierce, had looked at him with those sharp, violet eyes of hers, the eyes of a dragon, and she had smiled—a cold, knowing smile. "They fear you, my son," she had said. "They fear the strength of your blood. Aenys and his ilk think they can control you by keeping her from you, but they are fools. They do not see what I see."

"And what do you see, Mother?" Maegor had asked, desperate for the answer he knew only she could give.

"I see the future of our house," she had answered, stepping close to him, resting a hand on his armored shoulder. "And I see you at its head, with her at your side. The dragons of Old Valyria will rise again, Maegor. And no one—no one—will deny you what is yours."

Her words had kept him sane through the years of exile, through his marriage to Ceryse Hightower, a woman who had proven barren, and a marriage that had been nothing but a chain around his neck. All the while, he had thought of you. You, locked away on Dragonstone, hidden from him by his enemies, the gods, the world. But now, none of that mattered. Aenys was dead, the throne was his, and soon, you would be too.

And yet... the ships did not come.

The sun was sinking lower, casting ghastly shadows over the unfinished Red Keep, over the city of King's Landing, over the assembled lords and banners. Maegor’s patience was wearing thin, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface like wildfire ready to consume all in its path.

"They are late," he growled, his voice low, but his anger clear. "Where are they?"

Visenya stood beside him, silent and still as ever. Her presence was the only thing that soothed him, that kept him from mounting Balerion and flying to Dragonstone himself. But even her patience had its limits, and he could see the tightness in her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. She felt the delay, the insult, as keenly as he did.

"They will come," she said, though there was a note of uncertainty in her voice that Maegor did not like.

And what if they did not? What if something had happened? What if your brother, Aegon, or even that fool Rhaena, had interfered, whisked you away before you could reach him? The thought sent a surge of fury through him, and he gripped Blackfyre tighter, his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves.

"No one will keep her from me," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Not this time."

Visenya turned to him, her sharp gaze cutting through his anger. "If they try," she said, her voice cold and final, "then we will burn them all."

Maegor’s heart beat with the promise of fire and blood. They had all denied him for so long. His father. His brother. The gods themselves. But he was king now, and no one could deny the King of the Iron Throne.

You would be his, one way or another. The realm would tremble at his wrath if you were not.

But still, the horizon remained empty.

Maegor’s patience shattered like glass underfoot. The stillness of the harbor, the absence of the royal procession, and the delay that felt like a deliberate insult boiled within him until he could bear it no longer. His fury was a living thing, a fire in his chest that demanded release.

Without a word to anyone, Maegor turned sharply on his heel and stalked away from the gathered lords and his waiting bannermen. Visenya's gaze followed him, but she did not call him back. She knew what was coming, and she would not try to stop him. No one would.

He marched through the half-constructed Red Keep, past the workers who hastily moved out of his way, their eyes wide with fear at the sight of him. His blood thundered in his veins, his mind consumed by a singular thought: you. You were not here. Someone had kept you from him again, and he would have answers. One way or another, he would have answers.

Balerion waited for him, the great black beast shifting restlessly as though sensing the storm of rage within his rider. Maegor did not hesitate. He approached the dragon without a word, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he climbed onto Balerion’s back. The dragon’s scales were hot beneath his hands, and the air filled with the smell of smoke and brimstone as Balerion opened his massive jaws, letting out a low growl that reverberated through the air.

"To Dragonstone," Maegor commanded, his voice sharp and cold as steel.

With a mighty beat of his wings, Balerion launched into the air, and the city of King’s Landing fell away beneath them. The wind roared in Maegor’s ears as they ascended, higher and higher, until the Red Keep and the harbor were nothing but distant specks below. His eyes narrowed against the rush of air as they flew toward Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, a place that should have been your prison but was now the key to your disappearance.

The journey was swift. Balerion’s immense wings cut through the sky, and soon, the looming shape of Dragonstone appeared on the horizon, its dark, foreboding towers rising from the volcanic island like jagged teeth. The familiar silhouette of the castle did nothing to soothe Maegor’s fury. If anything, it fueled it. Whoever had dared to take you from him was hiding here, he was certain of it. And they would pay.

Balerion descended with a roar, his massive form casting a shadow over the castle courtyard as he landed with a thunderous crash. Maegor dismounted swiftly, his boots hitting the ground with purpose, and strode toward the keep without hesitation. The guards, clad in the black and red of House Targaryen, scrambled to stand at attention, but Maegor paid them no mind. His eyes were fixed on one figure—Alyssa Velaryon, Dowager Queen, widow of his late half-brother Aenys.

She stood at the entrance of the great hall, flanked by her own royal guards, her expression calm but her eyes wary. She had been expecting him.

"Where is she?" Maegor’s voice was thunder, echoing across the courtyard as he approached. His gaze was locked on Alyssa, his hands still resting on the hilt of Blackfyre at his side.

Alyssa’s lips thinned, but she did not answer immediately. Her silence was an insult in itself.

"Where is she?" Maegor demanded again, his tone darkening, his patience long gone. "The ships have not arrived. My bride is not here. Where is she?"

Alyssa lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his with a quiet defiance. "I do not know," she said, her voice steady, though her guards shifted uneasily around her. "She is not here, Maegor. I swear it on the blood of my children."

His anger flared like a flame doused in oil. He stepped closer, towering over her, his eyes burning with rage. "You lie. Do you think me a fool, Alyssa? Do you think I will believe your false words? You know where she is. Someone here knows."

Alyssa did not waver, though there was a flicker of fear behind her eyes. "I do not lie, Maegor," she said, her voice firm. "Your niece is gone, but I do not know where. You think you can demand answers, but the gods have taken her from you."

"The gods?" Maegor spat the word as if it were poison. "The gods have no power here. I am king. I am the only god that matters in this realm."

He drew Blackfyre from its scabbard with a vicious hiss of steel. The sight of the ancient Valyrian blade, its edge gleaming in the waning sunlight, caused Alyssa’s guards to stiffen, their hands moving to the hilts of their swords. But Maegor did not care. He had faced armies and dragons alike; these men would not stand against him.

"You will tell me where she is," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I will take this castle stone by stone and burn it to the ground. I will burn you all."

Alyssa stood her ground, but her defiance was waning. Still, she did not answer.

Maegor’s grip on Blackfyre tightened. "Very well," he said, his voice cold and final. "If you will not speak, then I declare war on you, on this entire realm, and on the gods themselves. I will rip the truth from your dying lips if I must."

He raised the sword high, and Balerion let out a deafening roar, his fiery breath licking at the sky, as if in answer to his rider’s fury. The ground beneath Maegor’s feet trembled as the beast’s wings unfurled, casting the courtyard into shadow once more.

"Do you hear me, Alyssa?" Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the castle walls. "I will bring fire and blood to this land until she is returned to me. Every house, every banner, every village will burn. No one will be spared."

Alyssa’s face paled, but she held her tongue, her defiance crumbling under the weight of his rage.

With one final, furious look at her, Maegor turned and mounted Balerion once more. The dragon’s wings beat against the air as they took to the skies, leaving the castle of Dragonstone behind, but not forgotten.

War was coming. The realm would know the full wrath of Maegor Targaryen, and nothing would stand in his way.

Not even the gods.

The sky had darkened with storm clouds, a fitting shroud for what was to come. Maegor could feel the death in the air as Balerion, the Black Dread, flew low over the countryside, the sound of his massive wings beating like the drums of war. Beneath him, the land stretched out in peaceful ignorance—green fields, small villages, and the occasional hamlet, all unaware of the doom that was about to descend upon them.

His fury had not abated. If anything, it had grown, simmering inside him like the flames that Balerion carried in his belly. For days, he had waited—waited for some word, some message, some whisper of where you had been taken. But there had been none. Not from Dragonstone, not from King's Landing, not from any corner of the realm. Silence. It was as if the earth itself conspired to keep you hidden from him.

And so, Maegor had decided to speak in the only language he knew would reach them all—fire.

The town below was small, insignificant in the grand scheme of his rule. It had no great lords, no strategic importance. It was nothing more than a farming village, its people simple, its streets quiet. But that did not matter to Maegor. He was no longer a king seeking strategy. He was a dragon in search of blood.

Balerion let out a growl as they descended, and the townspeople, who had begun to gather in the streets, looked up with wide, terrified eyes. They had heard tales of dragons, but few had seen one in the flesh, let alone the Black Dread himself. Some screamed, others fled, scattering like ants before a boot.

But it was too late.

Maegor did not speak as they approached. He did not announce his arrival or give them time to prepare. His rage did not allow for such mercy. Instead, he gave the only command he had come to deliver.

"Dracarys."

Balerion unleashed his fury with a deafening roar. Flames erupted from his jaws, a torrent of fire that engulfed the first row of houses in an instant. The wooden structures went up like kindling, the dry summer heat making them burn even faster. Screams filled the air, high-pitched and desperate, as people fled their homes, only to be caught by the flames that licked at their heels.

The fire spread with terrifying speed, consuming everything in its path—roofs, walls, fields. The village was alight, a beacon of destruction visible for miles around.

Maegor watched from above, his face cold and impassive, his grip on Balerion’s reins tight as the dragon circled over the burning town. The people below looked so small, like insects scurrying for cover, trying to escape the inevitable. But there was no escape. Not for them.

A handful of soldiers, likely from a nearby lord's keep, arrived, rushing into the chaos with spears and shields. They might have hoped to protect their people, to fight off the monster in the sky, but it was a hopeless effort. Balerion roared again, and another wave of fire descended, swallowing the soldiers in flames before they could even raise their weapons.

Still, Maegor felt nothing. No satisfaction, no relief, just the same gnawing fury. This town was but the first of many. If no one would give him what he demanded, then they would all burn.

Balerion landed in the town square, his massive form crushing the few remaining carts and stalls beneath him. The fires crackled and raged around them, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Maegor dismounted, his black armor gleaming with the reflection of the flames, and strode through the smoldering ruins. The people who hadn’t already fled or died in the fire cowered at the edges of the square, their faces streaked with soot and tears, their eyes wide with terror.

One man—a farmer by the looks of him, his face blackened with ash—dared to stand before Maegor. His legs shook, and his hands trembled as he held out a crude pitchfork, a pitiful weapon against the man who wielded Blackfyre.

“Please!” the man cried, his voice cracking. “We’ve done nothing! We don’t know where she is!”

Maegor’s gaze fixed on him, cold and unfeeling. “Then you are of no use to me.”

With a swift motion, he drew Blackfyre and swung. The blade cut through the air with a whistle, and the man’s head rolled to the ground, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings severed. Blood pooled at Maegor’s feet, mixing with the ash and dirt.

He turned to the remaining villagers, their tear-filled eyes pleading for mercy. “Where is she?” Maegor demanded, his voice cutting through the crackling flames. “Tell me, and you will be spared.”

But there were no answers. Only silence, punctuated by the occasional sob or gasp. They knew nothing, and he could see the truth of it in their frightened, helpless faces. These people had never laid eyes on you. They did not know your name. They were caught in a storm that was not theirs, a storm they could not hope to survive.

“Then burn,” Maegor said, his voice flat, his heart devoid of pity.

Balerion roared once more, and fire swept across the square, swallowing the villagers where they stood. The screams of the innocent echoed in the night, but they were distant to Maegor, drowned out by the roar of the flames. He mounted Balerion again, his mind already turning to the next town, the next village. There would be no end to his wrath until you were returned to him.

As they lifted into the air, the once-quiet town was a sea of fire below, the smoke rising in dark plumes that would be visible for miles. The next town would see the flames and know what was coming. They would know the price of silence.

But as they flew over the burning ruins, a grim thought gnawed at Maegor’s mind: even this, even the screams of the dying, had not brought forth any word of you. No ravens, no messengers, no spies. It was as if you had vanished from the face of the earth.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes hard as stone as he looked out over the darkened horizon. Let them hide you. Let them try to keep you from him. He would burn every inch of this realm to ash until they had no choice but to deliver you back into his hands.

War had come, and the realm would know the full measure of his wrath before it was over.

And still, you remained lost to him, as distant and unreachable as ever.

The halls of Oldtown’s grand keep were filled with the scent of burning torches and incense, the air heavy with the weight of old stone and old gods alike. Maegor strode through the corridors, his armor clinking with each step, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. The lords of the Reach had gathered in the great hall ahead, awaiting his arrival, their banners lining the walls like silent witnesses to the war he was bringing to their doors.

He would have their armies. He would have their swords and their oaths. And soon, the realm would bleed for keeping you from him.

Yet, as he approached the towering doors of the hall, he was intercepted by a voice that grated on his already thin patience.

“Maegor.”

He halted but did not turn immediately. He recognized the voice, the cold, haughty tone that had once filled his ears with promises of alliances and power. Ceryse Hightower, his wife—the woman the Faith of the Seven deemed his lawful bride. The one who had failed him, who had borne him no heirs, no strength. She was a chain, an anchor from a life he despised. And now, she stood between him and the destruction he sought to bring upon the world.

With a slow turn, he faced her. She stood in the narrow corridor, her expression as cold as the marble pillars that flanked her. Her gown was white and gold, as befit a woman of her station, but there was no warmth in her. She had never had any warmth for him, nor he for her.

Ceryse’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, her chin lifted in defiance. "This madness must stop, Maegor. What you are doing—it is unholy. This war you wage for your niece, this obsession, it will bring the gods’ wrath upon you. Upon us all."

Maegor’s eyes, dark and brooding, bore into hers. "The gods?" he scoffed, his voice laced with venom. "Which gods, Ceryse? The Seven who gave me nothing but a barren wife? The gods who have denied me my rightful bride and my throne time and again? They are nothing to me. I am the king, and I will take what is mine."

"You are the king," she snapped, stepping closer, her voice rising, "but I am your wife. The only true wife you have before the gods. I was wed to you under the light of the Seven. I am your queen, not some girl you lust after because she shares your blood and your fire."

Maegor’s lips curled into a sneer. "Do not speak of things you do not understand. She is more than fire. She is mine by right, by blood, by destiny. You are nothing but a symbol of a failed marriage and the weakness of the Faith. Your gods mean nothing to me, Ceryse. They have never meant anything."

Ceryse’s face flushed with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “The Faith is all that holds this realm together. The Seven bless our rule, and you spit on their favor. Do you truly believe this war you’ve started will end with your niece in your arms? The realm will turn against you, the Faith will rise—”

“The Faith?” Maegor’s laughter was dark, a cruel sound that echoed off the stone walls. “The Faith cowers beneath the strength of dragons. I have already broken their High Septon, and I will do it again if they dare stand in my way. Do not speak to me of the Faith when they have already bled under my blade.”

Her eyes flashed with fury. “And what of me? Do I mean nothing to you, Maegor? I am your queen. I stood beside you when the world was against you, when you were exiled, when you returned to take the throne. I have endured your temper, your ambitions—everything. And yet you throw it all away for her, for a girl who should never have been yours.”

Maegor stepped closer, towering over her, his voice low and filled with menace. “You have never stood beside me, Ceryse. You have stood in my way, like all the others. The day you failed to give me an heir was the day your use to me ended. You are not my queen. You are a symbol of weakness and failure.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but her pride would not allow her to shrink before him. She held her ground, her chin raised defiantly. “This war is blasphemy. Even your late father would not stand for it. You break every sacred vow for this—this madness. And for what? For a girl who may be dead already, taken by the gods to punish your arrogance.”

Maegor’s hand shot out, gripping her throat, though not enough to truly harm her. His eyes were burning coals, his patience long gone. “Speak of her again,” he growled, his voice dangerously low, “and I will end you here and now, wife or not.”

Ceryse’s eyes widened, but she did not flinch, even with his hand at her throat. “Do it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. “Do it, and see how the realm turns against you. They already whisper of your cruelty, your madness. Kill your wife, and you will become the monster they fear.”

For a long, tense moment, Maegor said nothing. His grip tightened slightly, the temptation strong, but he released her with a shove, sending her stumbling back a step.

"You are a fool if you think I care for their whispers," Maegor said, his voice filled with disdain. "I will rule through fear if I must. The realm will submit to me, whether they love me or hate me. And you will stay out of my way, or you will burn like the rest of them."

Ceryse straightened, her hand to her throat, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and fear. She had pushed him as far as she could, and she knew it.

“You will destroy yourself,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to hide it. “This war, this rage... it will consume you.”

Maegor turned his back on her, his cloak swirling in the dim torchlight as he moved toward the doors of the great hall. "Then let it," he said coldly, without looking back. "I would rather burn the world to ash than live in a world where I am denied what is mine."

The heavy doors of the great hall swung open before him, and Maegor strode inside, leaving Ceryse standing alone in the darkened corridor, her hands shaking, her heart pounding with a fear she had never known before.

The lords inside turned as one to face him, their faces pale with the knowledge of the man they served. Maegor took his place at the head of the long table, his eyes sweeping over the gathered men like a predator surveying its prey.

"You will gather your armies," he said, his voice echoing through the hall, "and you will march with me to war. I care not for the gods, nor for the Faith. Those who stand against me will burn, and those who submit will live. But I will have my bride, or I will see this realm consumed by fire."

The lords exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared defy him. They knew the price of disobedience under Maegor’s rule.

"Are there any who would challenge me?" Maegor demanded, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

Silence fell over the hall, thick and suffocating. Not a single voice rose in opposition.

"Good," Maegor said, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Prepare your men. The realm will bleed until she is mine again."

And with that, the great hall of Oldtown descended into preparation for war, while outside, Ceryse Hightower stood in the shadows, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her words had fallen on deaf ears.

The battlefield stretched wide before Maegor, a patchwork of torn earth, trampled grass, and bloodied banners. His army stood in sharp contrast to the smaller force across the field, led by his nephew, Aegon the Uncrowned. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a bloody hue over the land, as if the gods themselves had abandoned all hope of peace.

Balerion, the Black Dread, shifted beneath him, his great black wings stretching wide as the dragon growled, sensing the impending battle. Maegor’s grip tightened on Blackfyre, the weight of the ancient sword familiar in his hand as he surveyed the field below. The banners of House Targaryen and Velaryon fluttered in the wind, a cruel mockery of what should have been unity between their blood. But unity had long been shattered.

On the opposite side of the field, Aegon sat astride Quicksilver, his dragon a flash of silver-white scales that shimmered in the dying light. Aegon’s army was smaller, but it was fiercely loyal—men who believed in the legitimacy of his claim, men who called Maegor a usurper and a tyrant. Men who were willing to die for a boy who had been denied his crown.

Maegor’s jaw clenched as he gazed across the field at his nephew, the boy who had dared to raise arms against him. Aegon had your blood running through his veins, and that alone made Maegor’s rage burn hotter. But it was not just Aegon’s challenge to the throne that stoked Maegor’s fury—it was his insolent defiance in keeping you from him.

The armies stood still for a breath, the wind carrying the sound of clinking armor and the distant neighs of restless horses. Maegor’s soldiers waited, their faces grim, their hands tight on their weapons. His bannermen were eager for the bloodshed to begin, eager to crush the boy who dared challenge their king.

But Maegor had eyes only for Aegon, who met his gaze across the field with the same cold intensity. Even from a distance, Maegor could see the steely resolve in the young man’s face. Aegon was no longer the boy he had once dismissed, and that truth gnawed at him.

Without a word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward. The great dragon let out a thunderous roar, his massive wings lifting him from the ground in one powerful sweep. The air around them seemed to hum with tension as Balerion soared into the sky, circling high above the battlefield, casting an enormous shadow over the armies below.

Aegon wasted no time. With a sharp command, he urged Quicksilver into the air, the silver dragon shooting upward with graceful speed. The two beasts circled one another in the sky, the gathered armies below looking up in awe as dragon met dragon.

Maegor’s eyes locked onto Aegon, his blood boiling with the need for victory. He would crush this boy, as he had crushed all who had stood in his way. Blackfyre was already in his hand, the sword gleaming as he prepared to strike.

Quicksilver let out a high-pitched roar and dove toward Balerion, claws outstretched. Aegon, no doubt thinking speed would be his advantage, urged his dragon forward with a deadly precision. But Balerion was no ordinary dragon—he was the Black Dread, the most fearsome of all Targaryen dragons, and his size alone was enough to instill terror in any opponent.

With a bellowing roar, Balerion met Quicksilver head-on, jaws snapping as the two dragons collided in a flurry of wings, fire, and claws. The sky around them lit up with dragonflame, bright orange and yellow in the fading light. The sound of their clash echoed across the battlefield like thunder, and Maegor felt the familiar thrill of battle pulse through his veins.

Aegon swung his sword at him, their blades clashing as Quicksilver veered away, trying to outmaneuver Balerion. But Maegor was relentless. He urged Balerion onward, following the silver dragon, breathing down its neck with every beat of its wings. Aegon was skilled, but Maegor could see the hesitation in his strikes, the uncertainty in his eyes.

"You will never have her, Uncle!" Aegon shouted over the roar of the wind and the battle below, his voice laced with both fury and desperation. "She is free of you! The gods will never let her fall into your hands."

Maegor’s face twisted into a snarl, his fury consuming him as he swung Blackfyre toward Aegon with all the strength he could muster. Their blades met again, the force of the strike sending sparks flying between them. "The gods be damned!" Maegor roared. "You think they care for your claims, boy? I will have her, and no man or god will keep her from me!"

Aegon’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his eyes flashing with defiance. "You’re a fool if you think she would come to you willingly," he spat. "She despises you. She will never be yours."

Maegor’s rage flared hotter than dragonfire. He urged Balerion forward, closing the distance between the two dragons, but Quicksilver darted away, its speed giving it the advantage. Maegor’s strikes were powerful, but Aegon’s precision allowed him to evade, always one step ahead, always just out of reach.

Below, the armies had clashed. The sounds of battle—clanging steel, screams, and the thunder of hooves—rose from the ground, but Maegor cared little for what happened below. His focus was entirely on Aegon, on the boy who had denied him his rightful bride, on the nephew who dared to defy him.

Suddenly, Quicksilver darted upward, high into the clouds, and Aegon disappeared from sight. Maegor cursed, pulling Balerion up after them, but by the time he broke through the clouds, Aegon and Quicksilver were gone.

A howl of frustration escaped Maegor’s throat. He scanned the skies, his eyes searching for any sign of the silver dragon, but Aegon had vanished, leaving nothing but the roar of the wind and the distant sounds of the battlefield below.

"Damn you, Aegon!" Maegor bellowed into the empty sky, his voice echoing across the heavens. His blood boiled with fury, his vision clouded with rage. Once again, Aegon had slipped through his fingers, just as you had been denied to him time and time again.

He descended with Balerion, landing amidst the chaos of the battlefield, his soldiers still locked in fierce combat with Aegon’s forces. But it was not enough. The battle, the bloodshed, the cries of dying men—all of it paled in comparison to the rage burning inside Maegor. He had come for victory, for vengeance, for you—and he had been denied once more.

The soldiers around him fell to their knees, their faces streaked with blood and mud, their eyes filled with terror at the sight of their king. But Maegor’s gaze was distant, his thoughts consumed by the promise Aegon had made before vanishing into the clouds.

You were free of him, Aegon had said. You would never be his.

But Maegor was not a man who accepted defeat. Not now. Not ever.

The realm would continue to burn until you were in his hands, and not even his nephew’s empty threats would change that.

With a final, chilling glance at the battlefield around him, Maegor mounted Balerion once more, his mind already racing with thoughts of what was to come. The war was not over. Aegon may have escaped, but Maegor would hunt him down. He would tear the realm apart, piece by piece, until there was nowhere left for his enemies to hide.

And in the end, you would be his.

Whether you wished it or not.

The second clash between Maegor Targaryen and his nephew, Aegon the Uncrowned, was inevitable. The gods had no place on this battlefield; only dragons, fire, and blood would decide the victor. Beneath the clouded skies of the God's Eye, the two riders faced one another atop their colossal beasts. Quicksilver, the pale silver dragon, hovered in the air with Aegon astride him, eyes blazing with defiance, while Maegor sat atop the mighty Balerion, the Black Dread, a shadow over the land, a force of destruction waiting to be unleashed.

Aegon was no child, but neither was he the match of his uncle. And yet, as they circled high above the waters of the God's Eye, you could almost feel the weight of his resolve. Maegor could sense it, too—a determination to stand, to fight, to protect what little remained of his claim. But Aegon was a fool to believe he could stop what was coming. Maegor had returned, stronger than ever, and no man, no dragon, no usurper would deny him what was his—neither the throne nor you.

The dragons roared and circled, Balerion’s immense shadow darkening the sky. Maegor’s heart was black with fury, the rage of the denied, of one betrayed by his own kin. For years, he had been denied you, stolen from him by a weak brother and a cowardly nephew. Aenys had never been strong enough to hold the kingdom together, nor had he the will to make the hard choices. Now Maegor would show Aegon the price of such weakness.

“Tell me where she is,” Maegor bellowed, his voice a force of its own, carrying across the winds between them. “Tell me, and I’ll make your death quick.”

Aegon’s expression hardened, but his lips remained sealed. He said nothing, his jaw tight, the defiance in his eyes unbroken. It was clear that he would rather die than betray your whereabouts, and for a brief moment, Maegor almost admired the boy's stubbornness. Almost.

But that would not save him.

Quicksilver lunged first, his bright scales gleaming like molten metal in the dim light. His teeth snapped, his wings beat the air, and Aegon drove him forward, spear in hand, hoping to catch Balerion’s flank. But Balerion was no ordinary dragon, and Maegor was no ordinary rider. The Black Dread twisted mid-air with terrifying speed, jaws snapping shut around Quicksilver’s wing. The smaller dragon shrieked, a sound that echoed over the lake like thunder, and his body faltered as he was dragged downward, closer to the earth.

Balerion's fire erupted, black and red flames that swallowed the sky. Quicksilver was engulfed, his silvery scales turning black as smoke and ash filled the air. Aegon fought back, his dragon resisting, but it was clear to all who watched that there could only be one outcome.

With a final, sickening crunch, Balerion’s teeth sank into Quicksilver’s neck, tearing through flesh and bone. The dragon screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing cry that seemed to go on forever. And then, with a sickening crash, Quicksilver and Aegon were flung into the earth below, the ground trembling from the impact.

Maegor descended slowly, his eyes never leaving the crumpled form of his nephew. The once-proud Aegon, Uncrowned and unbroken, now lay battered and broken beside his dying dragon. Maegor dismounted, stepping down from Balerion’s back as if descending from a throne. The grass beneath his feet was scorched from the battle, and the air smelled of death and fire.

Aegon coughed, his body shattered, blood pouring from wounds too numerous to count. His breaths were labored, each one a struggle. Maegor stood over him, the weight of his fury and triumph heavy in the air.

“Where is she?” Maegor demanded once more, his voice like steel.

Aegon lifted his head weakly, his eyes meeting Maegor's with the last of his strength. Blood bubbled on his lips as he smiled—a bitter, bloody smile.

“You’ll never find her,” Aegon rasped, defiance even now.

The anger that surged through Maegor was all-consuming, a wildfire burning through his veins. He had half a mind to rip his nephew’s head from his body then and there, but he knew Aegon would welcome such an end. No, his death would come soon enough. But it would not be swift, nor merciful.

With a final look of disgust, Maegor turned his back on the dying boy, mounting Balerion once more. There was no more time to waste on the Uncrowned. He would find you, with or without Aegon’s cooperation. And when he did, nothing and no one would ever separate you from him again.

After the battle, as Maegor's forces regrouped, a rider approached him. The man, bloodied and worn from the fight, bowed low before his king.

“My lord, we have received word,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “It is said... she is being held in Lys.”

Maegor’s eyes narrowed, his blood roaring in his ears. Lys. So far away, beyond the sea, beyond his immediate reach. But no distance was too great. He would cross oceans, burn cities, and tear apart entire kingdoms if need be.

“Prepare the fleet,” Maegor ordered, his voice like iron. “We sail at once.”

Balerion let out a low rumble, as if sensing his master’s intent. There would be no peace until you were his, no rest until the blood debt was paid in full. The dragons were coming, and all of Lys would burn if it meant bringing you home.

The sun had long begun its descent when the black sails of Maegor's fleet appeared on the horizon, darkening the waters that surrounded Lys. The city, gilded with beauty and wealth, stood as a gleaming jewel in the far east. But to Maegor, it was a den of thieves—those who had dared to steal what belonged to him. As Balerion descended from the skies, casting a vast shadow over the city, panic spread like wildfire through its streets. The people of Lys had never seen the likes of such a beast, nor the wrath of a king who had come to reclaim what was his.

You had not expected him so soon.

The small tower in which you were held offered little more than a view of the sea and distant freedom, but you knew that no bars or walls could hold you forever. You had seen the men sent to guard you, faces hardened by greed and violence, yet even they had begun to whisper in hushed tones over the past days—of dragons, of black sails, of the King who would come. Maegor.

For weeks, you had wondered if it was only a matter of time before your captors sold you to another—or worse. But it was not the men of Lys who had taken you—it was Aegon. Your own brother. He had sent you here, far away from Maegor, far from the throne. He believed it was for your own good, to keep you safe from the king who had burned through the realm to take the Iron Throne. To keep you from the man who had claimed you as his.

But your brother had gravely underestimated the lengths to which Maegor would go to have you back.

And now he had come.

The tower trembled beneath your feet as Balerion’s roar split the sky, shaking the very stones of Lys. The dragon’s fire lit the horizon, the harbor a hellscape of flames and destruction. You could hear the distant cries of men fleeing from the wrath of the Black Dread, and in that moment, a strange calm settled over you. You knew Maegor. You had known him since childhood—his strength, his darkness, and above all, his possessiveness. He would burn this city to the ground for you. He would raze every last building, tear every stone apart brick by brick, until he had you back in his grasp.

The door to your chamber flew open, splintering as it slammed against the wall. The guard who had been stationed outside was gone, replaced by men bearing the black and red sigil of House Targaryen. They moved aside without a word, and there, standing in the doorway, was Maegor.

He was just as you remembered him, but now there was a fierceness in his gaze that you had never seen before. His armor, still streaked with blood from battle, glinted in the dim light. His silver hair, windswept from the flight atop Balerion, framed a face carved from stone, hard and unyielding. And his eyes—those dark violet eyes burned with a hunger, an obsession, that had only grown stronger with time. He had come for you.

Without a word, Maegor strode into the room, his presence filling it like a storm. He did not wait for pleasantries, nor for explanations. He reached for you, his hand closing around your arm with a grip that was firm but not painful, his eyes searching your face as if to assure himself that you were real, that you were truly here.

"You’re coming with me," he said, his voice low and rough. There was no question, no hesitation, just the ironclad certainty that had always driven him.

"Maegor," you began, your voice quiet but steady. The words you had rehearsed in your mind seemed to dissolve as you looked into his eyes. The fury, the relief, the need—it was all there, laid bare. He was not a man to be denied.

"You will never be taken from me again," he growled, his fingers tightening slightly around your arm as if to emphasize his point. "I’ve burned half the world to get to you. No one will stand between us now."

You had heard tales of what he had done—of how he had torn through Aegon’s forces at the God's Eye, of how he had set the seas aflame in his pursuit of you. But you never imagined that it would come to this—that your own brother would try to keep you from him. And now that he stood before you, towering, unyielding, you realized that there was no escaping the inevitability of what came next.

"You were mine from the moment you were born," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And they kept you from me. All of them—my father, your brother, the gods themselves. But no more. You will be my queen, and no one will ever take you from me again."

His words, raw and fierce, echoed in the space between you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the distant roar of Balerion outside, the great beast that had carried him across the skies to find you.

You met his gaze, and in that moment, something shifted within you. You had known Maegor your whole life. You had seen the violence in him, but you had also seen the man beneath it—the one who, for all his ruthlessness, had always looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. And now, standing before him, you understood that there was no escaping him, not now, not ever.

"Then take me," you whispered, your voice soft but clear. "I’m ready."

Maegor’s eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he pulled you into him, his lips crashing against yours with all the pent-up fury and longing that had driven him to Lys. His kiss was fierce, possessive, and you knew then that the man who had come for you was not just the king, but the dragon itself—untamable, unstoppable, and wholly yours.

When he pulled away, his hand still cradled the back of your neck, his eyes locked on yours. "We leave now," he said, his voice a low growl. "There’s nothing for you here. Nothing but ash."

He led you from the room without another word, the tower and all its horrors fading behind you as you stepped out into the night. Balerion waited, his massive form dark against the sky, and as Maegor helped you onto the dragon's back, you knew that whatever fate awaited you, it would be by his side.

And so, with a single command, Balerion’s wings unfurled, and together you soared into the night, leaving Lys in flames behind you.

[ohimsummer]

the winter breeze is bloodthirsty, greedy, biting at any flesh you dare leave exposed to her icy fangs. you underestimated just how vicious the winds would be, lacking in layers amidst these freezing temperatures.

your phone gives a quick succession of ‘ding!’s and you know it’s satoru because he’s the only one who rapidfired texts to you in such a manner.

it’s tempting to pull out your phone and see what goofy messages he’s sent you this time—what animal pictures or funny photos he always has on hand. but your fingers are numb. the tips are frigid and cracked, painfully cold and it hurts just to wiggle the digits, but it’s about the only thing you can do to keep them from going too stiff.

“do you always ignore your poor boyfriend’s texts?”, a familiar voice asks behind you.

satoru laughs when you whip around to gawk at him, because how did he even sneak up on you? the question never leaves your lips, instead interrupted by a harsh shiver from your head-to-toe, one that wipes the smirk right off satoru’s face.

“oh, baby…”, he sighs. “c’mere.”

satoru tugs you closer to him, and it feels like the bitter breeze has been blasted out of your vicinity. you have a split second thought—‘his infinity’—before he’s cupping his larger, mittened hands around yours. gently, like delicate china, and he moves them up to his lips.

“dummy.”, satoru scolds as he looks over your pale knuckles and fragile fingertips, tutting at you and his unamused pout brings forth a sheepish smile to your lips.

he leans forward to press soft kisses to your palm, your fingers, and then he heaves a first large, warm exhale over your hands. it’s a soothing relief; peppermint-scented breaths especially effective now that the icy winds are kept at bay.

satoru huffs and puffs to defrost your frigid hands. his white lashes have fluttered shut, brows slightly furrowed as he works on getting your hands back up to a proper temperature. he looks pretty, a light red dusting over his nose and cheeks, up to his ears. the sight sends a warmth blooming throughout your heart, more so when satoru opens his eyes again and captivates you in those glittery, winter blues. being this close to him, literally in his space, as he catches and holds your gaze—it feels extremely intimate.

“there, all better.”, satoru hums, coating your hands in a few more lingering kisses. “thank you, satoru.”

and you just giggle, roll your eyes, relish in the newfound heat within your hands. “thank you, satoru.”

🌨️: @anthoosies @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @neptuneblue @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @starlightanyaaa @bubblez-blop @domainexpansionmypants @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie

[suiana]

(yandere! fan x gn! idol reader) (cw: murder, stalking, slight nsfw, yandere stuff)

Yoon-Jae likes to think of himself as your biggest fan.

He buys all your albums, attends all your fan-meets, hell, he even buys all your merch! He just wants to support his favourite idol after all.

You deserve it. Really.

He still remembers how you used to be laughed at by the other students for being a nerd.

You, his old high school classmate, the one he's always pined after even when you were a cute geeky nerd that got teased on a daily basis. Those were good times, he thinks. Before your rise to stardom and exposure to the rest of the world. When times were simpler and you were just someone he had a huge crush on because you were so his type. You two didn't even talk to one another but he had already decided that you were his crush. His first and only crush.

Yoon-Jae still finds it hard to believe that time has already passed by just like that. It's been a good couple of years since you two were in the same class, he still can't believe it. Cute, nerdy, and a little bit of a loser. Sure he knows he's popular and attractive, but opposites attract don't they?

He remembers it like yesterday, to when he first decided to act on his growing feelings for you.

It started out with small things. Following you around in public, being your own personal paparazzi. A little click here and there never hurt anyone. Not when you were so beautifully going about doing your things. His breath always hitches whenever he brings his camera up to his shaky blue eyes to snap another picture of you. The perfect you.

It was like you were made for the spotlight. Made for the cameras. I mean, how could you not be? You're perfect. Everything about you is like a blessing from the god's above. Your smiles, your laughter, the way your face would flush a little from laughing too much... Everything about you needed to be framed in a mueseum. Truly a work of art.

Click, Click, Click.

His camera fired away at everything you did. Even the most mundane of things. The tall Korean man estimates he probably had taken about 5000 pictures of you on a day to day basis back when you both were still students. If you ask his present self how many pictures he takes on a daily basis now it would probably be 2 or 3 times more than what he used to take.

In any case, he finds it a little cute how you were completely oblivious to his photo-taking. How you went around your day-to-day life while remaining blissfully unaware of the photos he shot of you.

Then things got a bit worse.

He thought it wasn't enough to just follow you around outside. No, he needed a glimpse into your private life, the one you kept behind closed doors. Yoon-Jae thought it would help him learn more about you.

And it did. It helped him to learn more about your character. About the person that hid behind a pair of thick round glasses and a nervous stutter when around others in class. The person he saw through a rose-eyed lens.

It was as though he got a glimpse into your soul.

So of course he had to continue breaking into your house to see you in your private space. Of course he had to install cameras in your room to observe how you acted when no one else was around. Of course he had to watch you 24/7. Of course he had to.

It was cute seeing you dance and sing around like some famous idol. Your voice was always so soothing that he'd fall asleep while watching you. This was something he never thought the cute little nerd in his class would enjoy doing. But if it makes you happy he'll be more than happy to support it. You were already an idol in his eyes anyway. It's even better if you wanted to act like a real one.

To be honest, he had secretly hoped you'd notice him. He finds it arousing to say the least. To be caught doing such an intimate thing with his beloved muse... It sends his heart racing, sweat rolling down the sides of his pale forehead as his member strains painfully against his sweatpants.

But you never did and he can't tell whether it's a blessing or a curse that you were so oblivious. No matter, the dark haired man can wait. He's always been patient after all. It's something his mom praised him for since he was young.

The more he learned about you, the more Yoon-Jae couldn't help but be a little peeved that you were still being bullied. He couldn't understand why such a sweet thing like yourself would get teased and called names for liking things so passionately. It's cute. So very adoravle. And he absolutely hated it that others would make fun of you for it. He hated it.

So he decided to get rid of them. What is the point of their lives if they couldn't appreciate the perfection that you are? They are the scum of the earth. Vermin who didn't deserve to live.

His usually neat and tidy appearance was a mess by the time he was done getting rid of the first person. He still regrets wear his favourite white shirt to get rid of all these pests. Their filth got all over him after all, blood and tears staining his pristine clothes.

Yoon-Jae remembers his mother horrified expression as she immediately clutched his arms, asking if he was hurt. He had to repeatedly reassure her that he was fine and just doing it for you. Her face immediately relaxed after that.

"You found your other half then? Are they like your father?"

"Mom it's not-"

"You should bring them back soon. I want to meet my son's beloved! I've been waiting for this day for so long!"

The Korean guy was so confused by his mother's words. Love? He never saw what he was doing as love. He thought it was just... doing what he should do. You're perfect so he should devote himself to you. That's how things are, no?

He started questioning himself after that. Did he... love you? Really? I mean, yeah, he did have a crush but it couldn't be love, could it? Love is a really strong word... He thinks he's just giving you the attention and affection you deserve.

In the midst of getting rid of his final victim, he decided to spill his heart out to them.

"I just... I don't know whether I really love them, you know? Like... I'm doing all this but... It's more like, I want them to be safe and protected from all the bad people. And yeah, maybe I wanna get with them too but that's not very important, is it?"

"U-uh..."

His soft black locks stick to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving slightly as he continues talking about his feelings to the half dead person. Maybe they'll give him some enlightenment? I mean, they decided to harm you... They should at least give him some advice, no?

"Hey, what do you think? Since you decided to make fun of them you probably know right?"

"I-I don't know-"

"What was that?"

"I meant you probably love them! P-Please don't kill me!"

And just like that, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain.

He made quick work of the person... Well, at least they were useful in the end. He supposes they're not totally good for nothing.

Yoon-Jae decides to confess to you the next day. He brings in flowers and sprays his special cologne. He's positive that you'll reject him today, but he doesn't care. He'll just continue to confess until you finally give in and love him back. You're bound to fall for him one day or another.

Sadly, his luck completely failed him that day and you weren't anywhere in sight. At all.

He spent the whole day asking about your whereabouts, fretting over your well-being as his minds spirals into a states of paranoia. Were you kidnapped? Did someone hurt you? Sick? Where the hell were you?!

And that's when he heard it. You got scouted by an entertainment company and moved to a school closer to your agency.

An idol. You were going to become an idol.

It was as though his heart had stopped and his whole world was flipped upside down. Oh.

Oh.

The realization that you were actually going to stand on a grand stage with hundreds of thousands of eyes on you finally settled in and his heart couldn't help but swell with pride. His idol, his beloved idol. The one he loved and would protect to death. Yoon-Jae couldn't help but feel satisfied knowing that some person finally realized your potential. Took them long enough, he mumbles while walking back home with the bouquet of flowers.

Was he sad that he couldn't confess to you? Sure, yeah he was. He's not going to deny it or lie. It really fucking hurt when you weren't there to witness his confession. But the fact that you had actually gone to become an idol... That made everything all better.

He'd finally be able to worship and love you like you were meant to be worshipped. An idol. His idol. He'd be able to prattle and gush about you without receiving any weird looks. Everyone else will be doing the same thing anyway. They can't and won't be able to judge him. In fact, they'd be understanding of why he's so obsessive over you. You're perfect, he repeats. Such perfection is worth losing his mind over. He's sure everyone would agree.

He can't help but grin in excitement as he anticipates your debut. A cute concept? A sexy concept? Both? He thinks that you'd suit everything.

When you finally debuted he feels like he could die at that second. You, in all your glory, was standing in the middle of a stage. A soloist. The sole star of the show. He's glad your agency hadn't put you in a group. He'd feel bad for your other members, already knowing that you'd outshine them all. It's not even up for debate.

It's no surprise that Yoon-Jae's the first to buy all your merchandise. The first one to book tickets to all your shows and fan meets. He's in the front row screaming your name with his heart, blue eyes all wide and cheeks flushed as he publicly displays his devotion for you.

You don't notice him at first, but as time goes by and he continues to support you, he's become a familiar face amongst your ever growing crowd. Yoon-Jae. You hadn't realized that the popular guy in your old class had liked your music so earnestly. Maybe it was a safe haven from the horrible deaths back in your old school. You believed your music to be comforting after all.

His slender hands intertwine with yours as he appears at your fan meet for the nth time. He comes bearing more gifts than before, way too excited to chat to you one-on-one again.

"Darling, darling! You look amazing like usual! I bought this expensive cartier necklace for you today. Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"Haha, of course. You're my sweetest fan! Come put it on for me?"

The lines between idol and fan slowly start to blur to him. Yoon-Jae thinks that you truly mean what you say whereas you were just doing what an idol does. Fan-service.

But Yoon-Jae doesn't care about that. Why would he? You're his other half. He even got his mother to watch your content with him. She says she's eager to meet her son's future spouse. His father is a little bit more reserved, always hiding in his room and reading quietly, not wanting to talk to him. Whatever, he'll meet you one on one when the time comes. And you'll be his when the time comes. Though he loves you as an idol, he loves you as his lover more. The tall black haired guy is already counting down the days to when your contract ends.

For now, he'll continue supporting you as your biggest fan. He always will be your biggest fan even after your career too. You're an idol in his eyes through and through and nothing will change that.

Nothing will ever change that.

[teamatsumu]

The End of NNN (gojo satoru x reader)

word count: 800-ish

warnings: fem!reader, pure smut, slight somno, multiple orgasms, mentions of anal, whiny!gojo

When the clock strikes midnight, making it 1st December 2023, Satoru immediately rips your clothes off (yes, he rips them off) before mounting you like a dog and bullying his weeping, rock hard cock into your unprepped pussy.

You gasp as the intrusion wakes you up with a jolt, blinking a few times to try and adjust, but Satoru gives you no time, drilling into you with quick, sloppy and rushed strokes. His resulting moan is pornographic, and he already sounds so wrecked that it makes you subconsciously tighten around him.

“Sh-shit, baby.” He chokes out, hooking his hands behind your knees and forcing your legs farther apart so he can watch your pretty pussy swallow his dick and make it wet. He feels insane. He can’t describe it. The glorious feeling of your warm, tight hole has him on the edge already, and he is almost angry at himself for holding out an entire month.

How Gojo Satoru managed to not nut for the entirety of November, you would never know. In fact, you had been so sure he would fail, you had promised him you would do anything he wanted in bed if he succeeded. Turns out Satoru had those lofty goals in mind when he managed to shut down all of your advances, refusing to let you anywhere near his dick, even going on long, difficult missions to make sure he was not tempted by your body. But he is here now, nearly whining at how fucking good your fluttering cunt feels, rutting into you rough and hard.

He doesn’t even fully thrust, unable to bear the thought of not being in your pussy for even a single second. His thrusts are shallow and choppy, head continuously pressing into your sweet spot, and that’s what puts you right on the edge.

Above you, your boyfriend is a sight. His hair is all over the place from when he tossed and turned restlessly as he waited for midnight. His pale skin is now flushed a pretty deep pink, sweat gathered on his hairline. His pupils are so blown that the brilliant blue of his eyes is reduced to a tiny ring right by the edges. And he is looking at you like you are his last meal on Earth.

“Satoru,” You whine, fisting the pillow under your head for any semblance of control. “‘M gonna cum.”

“Fuck.” Satoru sounded close to tears. “God, baby, your fucking cunt is so tight around me. How did I go without this shit for a month, huh? I’m a fucking idiot. Fuck, I missed your little whore body. Look at you, taking my cock like a champ. Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you baby, gonna fill you up-”

And then he is cumming with a long, low whine, nails digging into your hips and pelvis flush against yours, releasing ropes and ropes of cum into you. There’s so much of it that it leaks right past the base of his dick, traveling down from your pussy and through your asscrack. The feeling of it cooling on your skin has you shivering.

He had lasted barely 2 minutes.

Satoru is still moaning, one shaky arm holding him up, hips still not stopping. You gasp when a pleasurable jolt goes through your body, eyes widening when you realise your boyfriend is still rock hard. He is barely paying any attention to you, one hand holding the headboard above you while the other runs up your body until it is wrapping gently yet firmly around your throat to hold you in place. You moan at the feeling.

His thrusts this time around are longer and deeper, nearly pulling out to the tip before slamming hard into you. Every slam of his hips takes your breath away, pulling out a sweet cry every time from your lips. You feel ecstatic, having missed the way your boyfriend’s cock carves into you. Satoru was not the only one who suffered the effects of No Nut November. Your pussy had yearned for him just as much as his cock had missed you.

Satoru’s second orgasm is quick to come, thrusts speeding up and voice getting an octave higher as he dumps another load of his cum into you, biceps contracting with the effort of holding his trembling body up. His mere reactions can be enough to make you cum too. You had never seen him like this, so whiny, so desperate, such a huge mess of sweat and a slight film of tears coating his pretty eyes. He had always been the one in control, the one who reduces you to pathetic pleas and begs. Yet here he is, looking like he had run three hundred miles, sweaty and breathless and an absolute wreck.

He shows no signs of stopping though, now leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your body tight against his. He sets a fast pace, rutting into you like an animal in heat, this position placing his lips right next to your ear, so you can hear all of his little noises. They are almost contagious, making you moan and cry along with him. One shaky hand of his reaches down, fiddling roughly with your clit until the feeling of it all is too much and you are cumming hard on his cock, tears pooling in your lash line at the dizzying feeling. Satoru lasts longer this time around, managing to pull another mind numbing orgasm from you before his balls are contracting again, shooting more ropes of white into your already fully stuffed cunt.

He goes slack on top of you, resting his full weight on you as he tries to catch his breath. His thumb, still twirling leisurely around your sensitive little nub, now travels down to your hole, pulling his cock out to feel how much cum pours out now that he isn’t plugging it inside. He hums in approval when you jump a bit and giggle.

“You feeling better?” You ask, not at all surprised at how wrecked you sounded.

“Hm,” Is his only response, and his hand travels further down, before he pokes at a different hole.

You yelp and your eyes widen, body stiffening. You turn your head until you’re looking into Satoru’s eyes, now back to his normal magnificent blue, and shining with something devious.

“I want my reward now, sweetcheeks.” He smirks, and combining that with the deep flush on his cheeks and the sweat coating his forehead makes him look even more sinister. Your pussy throbs at the sight.

The tip of his thumb slips inside, aided by the cum that had dripped out of your pussy and down to there. You bite your lip in anticipation, and let Satoru use you how he wanted.

He had earned it, after all.