#out of the saddle ( ooc )

[andtoconquer]

// Imagining Hellaverse Conquest checking into the hotel, then running into Lucifer there, who he presumably could have met at least once back in the day, and frantically signaling to him to pretend they don't know each other cause he hasn't told Charlie and the other guests who he really is yet.

[tenacquity]

a collection of kazuma saying anything in front of god and everyone bc it needs to be plastered on my wall

ryuu: (≖ //// ≖ ✿) i'm tryna do my job here kazuma i'll do my other job later ffs

[mindmxtters]

also I would like to thank u all for ur patience while I was MIA for so long. I was, as the kids would say, Going Through It (tm)

[ebitenpura]

obi wan lizard wallrun

[volatilemariner]

obsessed with the idea of some random straight up normal human dude fully not believing cronus when he says he is 1) an alien and 2) a ghost as cronus goes more and more insane with every attempt to convince him

[norikuna]

THE BOLTER ★ naoya zenin

prologue ⋆ ★ whoever said 'love at first sight' was lying, this is more like loathe at first sight. unfortunately, it seems like you and naoya zenin are stuck in the same boat together.

but at least the two of you can put on a great show.

pairing ⋆ ★ naoya zenin x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, arranged marriage, enemies/rivals, first meetings, outdated views on marriage and wives, public consummàtion, éxhibitionism, voyéurism, ooc naoya to a point but he's still a massive jerk, aphrodisiàcs, mild overuse of bloody/fruit symbolism, oràl (f. receiving), reader pushes naoya into a koi pond, gojo cameo (he wants to go home 😱)

word count ⋆ ★ 9k a/n ⋆ ★ i watched my lady jane 😭 could be a part two to this, or series of husband!naoya but idk...🤷‍♂️

"Stop fidgeting. You look like you're about to bolt any second," Naoya mutters, his voice low, biting through clenched teeth. Sharp, amber-glazed eyes slide sideways to lock onto you, dark brows pulled together in irritation. He's still got that plastic smile in place for the elders, a façade of civility that's only skin deep.

You meet his gaze with a smile that could cut glass, all sweet and syrupy, the kind of smile a bride's supposed to wear. Serene, demure, perfect. But you know better, and so does Naoya Zenin.

Oh, how I wish I could just walk right out of here, you think, lips curling just a fraction. You can barely keep the sneer from slipping through. "Well, I'm looking for the nearest exit," you murmur, barely above a whisper, voice as sweet as honey, "All I can smell is that stupid cologne of yours, and it's making me sick. Did you seriously bathe in it, or something?"

You can see the flush violently flash over peach-toned skin, first his cheeks, and then the tips of ears. Naoya's fingers twitch, hidden beneath the voluminous green sleeves of his haori, betraying his irritations. You can tell he's just dying to throttle you right about now.

"No wonder your clan sold you off like a broodmare," he hisses, venom dripping from his words, sickly sweet with malice, "I bet they couldn't wait to get rid of you."

You heroically bite back the urge to stab him with something sharp. You know it would have been so easy, to have a blade hidden in the folds of your robes. God, it would feel so good to shove it right between his ribs.

Instead, you take a delicate step forwards, sandals clicking softly on the polished floor. The attendants bustle behind you, their soft paces blending with the thick air that's rich with incense, pine, and the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts.

"How sad that Naobito Zenin had to buy a wife for his youngest son. Desperation really doesn't suit you, Naoya," you keep your tone placid and amiable, "Though, let's be honest, most things don't really look good on you."

You can feel Naoya bristle next to you, the faintest tremour in his posture. It feels nice to have struck a clean crack through his iron-clad composure. Victory tastes so sweet.

Without missing a beat, Naoya slides his hand over yours, the picture of practiced, marital tenderness as the two of you approach the threshold of the feast hall. All eyes are on you now, the guests straightening in anticipation. But the slender pads of his fingers are pinching at the flesh of forearm, sharp enough that they would be leaving an impression.

You wrinkle your nose, fighting the urge to wince. His grip is painful, and even though you want to pull away, you're not giving the moron the satisfaction of hearing you gasp.

"Yes," Naoya murmurs, too charming to be sincere, his voice dripping with false affection, "And how sad that out of all the mouthy, insufferable wenches in the world, I got saddled with you."

"Well, someone's mad," you sigh melodramatically, lowering yourself onto the cushions at the head of the table, folding your legs beneath your copious layers of silk, "Stay mad. And ugly."

Your new husband scoffs, sinking beside you, as his long limbs stretch out with lazy grace before crossing them. He looks far too comfortable for your liking. You wish someone had scattered tack needles under him, just to watch him yelp.

You watch quizzically as Naoya reaches across the low table, drawing a slice of pickled radish from the porcelain bowl. You watch, blinking, curious even as well-manicured nails balance the slide between elegant fingers.

He just flings it at you. The sodden radish hits you square in the forehead, the cold and wet slice dropping into your lap with an unsatisfying plop!

Bitch.

See, you already had been having an awful day. The kind that dragged you through the mud and left you feeling as though you had been drowned in your own perspiration.

Trudging through the gates of the Zenin estate, as the sweltering summer heat drowned you in sticky humidity. The estate was sprawling, its grandeur suffocating — all sharp angles, and lacquered panels of wood. Meticulous gardens designed less for beauty, rather for flexing obscene amounts of wealth.

The Zenins did not lack for wealth, that was for certain. But taste? Subtlety? Humility? Those were luxuries that they couldn't seem to afford. Whoever said money couldn't buy class had clearly been familiar with the big three clans of the jujutsu world.

It wasn't just the heat. It wasn't just the estate. It was all this, from this stupid contract to the commitment, to your life here. Your new home.

The summer heat clung to you, heavy and wet, like a damp cloth draped over your shoulders, sapping any energy you had left.

Eventually, you'd given up entirely on the elegant cushions and carved chairs of your new quarters, opting to morosely plant yourself cross-legged on the cool, polished floor. It wasn't graceful, but at least it was comfortable.

Attendants fluttered around you like busy little bees, arms laden with swathes of silk and intricate jewellery in shades of forest green. They moved in perfect sync, as though their every motion was rehearsed for the new bride. And you, well, you were supposed to sit still, look pretty, and wait for whatever nonsense came next.

But fuck that. Proper propriety be damned. The heat had you feeling too raw, too suffocated. So, you had been stripped away from the layers of heavy silk and ceremonial robes. Left in nothing but a thin, creamy-white cotton yukata. It hung loosely from your frame, clinging to your skin in the oppressive humidity, beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck.

And just as you had settled into the most brief, fragile sense of peace, the soft groan of a sliding door shattered it all. A servant stepped inside, shoulders stiff as their eyes fell upon you. As though they could sense your sour mood.

"He will see you now," the servant said, eyes lowered, voice tight, "In the gardens."

He. Naoya Zenin. Your soon-to-be husband, for the evening's grand spectacle and festivities.

A pit began to twist uncomfortably in your stomach. You had never even met this man. Hell, you didn't even know what he sounded like, nor what he looked like up close, what kind of man he really was.

Everything about this arrangement had been handled by clan elders, who were more concerned with keeping up appearances than with any personal connection. Their mouths were always full of flowery promises, and backhanded compliments, none of which did anything to ease the sinking feeling that made a home in your gut.

The reviews on Naoya Zenin though? Those were more consistent than the elders' pleasantries.

Arrogant? Check. Irritating? Beyond measure. A man with a superiority complex the size of the country? Absolutely, what a shock. Naoya Zenin was the youngest son of one of the wealthiest clan heads in Japan, so entitlement practically ran through his veins as though it were his birthright.

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on, though? The man was handsome, fine-featured. Of course, they'd say that to placate you, as though a pretty face could somehow excuse all the other bullshit. But you weren't quite in the market for a glorified Adonis as a trophy husband.

With a resigned sigh, you trudged forward. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sound of your sandals echoing on the winding stone path that stretched out before you. You tried to ignore the fatigue that settled in your bones, the faint feeling akin to that of a medieval monk walking towards his doom.

Your first impression of Naoya Zenin? You didn't like his voice.

"Weren't you meant to be here an hour ago?" He's calling, tone smooth and melodic. But there's a languid air about it, and whiny. You don't know nor understand why, but it makes your skin crawl.

You narrow your eyes at the back of his figure, perched lazily on a rock, legs swinging carelessly over the edge. Naoya's broad back is turned to you, gaze fixed on the iridescent koi gliding lazily through the pond beneath him. He hadn't even bothered to look at you yet.

First impressions were everything, so you did your damn best to hold back from snapping, "My apologies. There was a...delay," you bite out, your fingers tugging impatiently to tighten the sash of the thin robe around your waist.

You had half a mind to just turn around and leave, but no, it just wasn't in your lucky cards. Not when your family had practically signed you away to the Zenin clan, forevermore and all that nonsense.

Naoya lets out an exaggerated sigh, all long and drawn-out, as though your presence is enough to inconvenience him. His head tilts lazily, turning just enough to throw a half-lidded, uninterested stare in your direction.

"Well? Don't just stand there. I'm not going to bite."

The restraint it took to not roll your eyes could have won you sainthood. Still, you refrained. Barely. You hoped your expression conveyed what you really wanted to say. I am mentally chasing you around with a big stick and a hornet of wasps, but I'm refraining because I'm polite and I was raised right.

Reluctantly, you step forward, just as the wind picks up while you move. Sweeping the light cotton fabric around your legs in a way that made you wish for anything but these damp robes. You certainly don't miss at how Naoya's golden eyes widen in mild interest, tracing every curve of your figure. Warmth flushing down the back of your neck, and not just from summer's golden glare.

But then, your betrothed scowls, "Too good for the Zenin robes, are you?"

You cross your arms over your torso, the motion defensive. Naoya's gaze suddenly drops again to the pushed swell of your chest, lingering far too long.

"It's hot."

Naoya suddenly shrugs, all primped arrogance in his charcoal-gray and forest-green robes, like some ashen leaf springing obstinately out of cold winter ground. "Whatever. You seem adequate, I suppose," he flicks a hand dismissively, "I don't care for this attitude of yours, but you'll do for everything else."

"I'll do?" Your voice pitches an octave higher, incredulous, "What the hell does that mean?"

Naoya begins counting on long, slender fingers. As though he's sizing you up, checking boxes, "What do you think I mean? Just the usual requirements for a wife. Pleasing to the eye, which you are, I'll admit. But it's much less pleasant when you aren't smiling."

You spot a loose stone skittering on the mossy earth. You could absolutely brain him with that, right here. Right now.

But the man doesn't let up, "And of course, childbearing hips." He's waving a dismissing hand, "Well, clearly, I can see you have those. Tch', don't make that face. And a bit of wit for conversation — I refuse to marry an empty airhead. I mean, can you imagine?" Naoya's laughter is sharp, all glossy red lips over sharp fangs, "Docile, obviously. I think that might need some work, but — hey!"

Before you could think better of it, your hands are on him. Pushing, shoving, your frustration boiling over as your palms meet the flat, toned planes of his chest. The satisfaction of sending him tumbling back, of stupid, pretty golden eyes going wide as he flails, arms caught in the air. Priceless.

And then, with a splash! He disappears into the pond, the koi scattering like flashes of colour. Your betrothed surfaces slowly with a snarl, water dripping from his golden head of hair, plastering it flat. A piece of moss hangs awkwardly to Naoya's template as you stand over him, chest heaving.

"Harebrained! Idiotic! Empty-headed! Shallow, pompous, arrogant!" The words tumble from you, reckless and from the depths of your sudden-found hatred, "Rocks for brains! No wonder no-one wants to marry you, with that stupid, backwards nonsense. And your voice, it's stupid! And, well, there's clearly a lightbulb off in that oversized skull of yours. Don't you ever, ever say things like that to me again!"

For a moment, Naoya says nothing. He's only staring up at you with his mouth pressed into a thin, flat line. You realise in that brief silence, that you betrothed bears an unsettling resemblance to an angry, speckled hyena.

Rather than offer a rebuttal, or heaven forbid, an apology, a sodden arm shoots forward, fast as a viper, clamping around your ankle. And the world tilts.

"Don't you dare! Wait — no!"

He yanks at you hard, and with a sharp yelp, you tumble straight into the water beside him. Cool, refreshing water slaps your face as you sputter, wiping thin algae from your cheek. The koi scatter, unimpressed by human antics.

You're gasping as the chill must surely be soaking through your thin yukata, giving...quite the view to the eyes of others. No wonder Naoya's suddenly smirking, and you can see rosy lips part to deliver some awful, sleazy comment.

"Not a bad sight, don't you — mmph!"

You've scooped as much water as your hands can manage, flinging it straight at his face — watching as Naoya Zenin splutters, pinning you with a glowering stare that could cut through glass.

You were still simmering hours later.

The sun had already shifted, sinking deeper into the afternoon, but the humidity clung to the air like a thick and suffocating blanket. You were scowling at absolutely nothing, letting the maids drape you in layers of deep, emerald silk that shone like fresh leaves after the rain. Edges embroidered with delicate golden vines and flowers that twisted around your limbs.

You barely felt the soft hands of the maids as they pressed cool, rosewater-soaked pads to your cheeks and the crook of your neck. Idly wondering if they had plucked out every last remnant of pond water and scum that clung to your hair.

One of the older woman, with a sharp and matronly face, walked up to you, a platter balanced gently in her hands. At first, you didn't even register what she was offering, too preoccupied with nursing your own misery. But the food looked absolutely perfect, delicate rolls that had been sliced so neatly they could have come from an Imperial painting.

You raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't I eat after the ceremony?"

The woman gave a knowing glance to the other maids, but then her gaze flicked back to you. Careful. "This will help with your appetite for the latter half of the ceremony," as though she were choosing each word precisely, "It is...custom. Master Zenin would also partake in this tradition. It will make things easier."

Easier, huh? You stare at the plate again, and not that you didn't appreciate it, but if they really wanted to settle you nerves — they could have offered you a rolled blunt. But sure. Why not?

With a little sigh of resignation, you popped one of the sweet rolls into your mouth. The flavour was fresh, like citrus. Something like yuzu, perhaps? There's a hint of honey, and an odd aftertaste that lingers at the back of your throat, a touch bitter. You narrow your eyes, for it is something like ginseng.

You take a second roll, letting the smooth cream slide along your tongue, as you click your teeth. Well, if it would calm you down enough to keep you from throwing Naoya Zenin off the temple stairs, then...sure. You'd eat the whole damn platter if it meant you would be able to fight the urge to punt bricks at him.

And so, this circles you back to the beginning your sordid tale. The rooms buzzing with voices, and clinking porcelain in celebration, but somehow, all you can focus on is the man sitting beside you.

Naoya's practically been ignoring everything on his plate, pushing food aside with passive disinterest. Meanwhile, you've been aching for a good meal, your hand moving to scoop another bite of soft, fragrant rice. The nobles and elders have been weaving their way around, painted with polite and practiced smile — an endless cycle of verdant-draped Zenins, crimson-robed Kamos, and more clans all looking to suck up to Naobito Zenin.

There's another man, swathed in a vibrant, dark blue. You watch as Naoya stiffens as the white-haired man doesn't bow, just shuffles forward. As though his presence is more of a courtesy rather than a display of genuine well-wishes.

"Gojo," your husband is muttering, petulant all of a sudden.

The white-haired man grunts, blindfold wrapped around the upper half of his face, "Zenin." You swear you can feel his eyes on you, and there's something unnerving about the way he moves through the room, as though he can see much and more, without nary a glance.

So, that was Gojo Satoru.

You feel someone tug at your sleeves, and Naoya's golden eyes are still fixed on Gojo's broad back with a sharp, defensive gaze, "Stop looking. It looks stupid as fuck. And he'll still see."

You blink, wrenching your arm away from his cold grasp, "How? He's got that —," you gesture to your eyes, "That thing on."

Naoya scowls, fangs poking underneath curled lips, "Trust me. He can see better than anyone here."

"Is that why you're scared of him, or something?"

Naoya's jaw tightens, and he reaches for a platter of fruit, a pomegranate globe falling into the palm of his hand, "I am not. Tch', watch your words."

"Or what? You'll push me into the koi pond?" You snipe, watching him, fascinated despite yourself. His hands are elegant, precise, even. Tearing into the fruit with a casual brutality that makes something flicker oddly deep in your chest.

The juice, rich and ruby red, drips lazily down his fingers, following the slope of his knuckles. Staining the fine silk of his sleeves in a losing fight. As though the fruit had been desperate to remain whole before Naoya split it.

How strikingly brutal to witness. There's something almost obscene about the mess he makes, how the juice is pooling thinly on the silk. How the sweetness of the fruit is ruined by the way it's overpowered.

You think your new husband is the kind of man who would see a dangerous sort of beauty in the way he wrecks things.

But Naoya has surely noticed your stare. The corner of his rose-teak mouth twitches as he looks up from his conquest, fingers still dripping with thin crimson.

"Something wrong, wife?" He's asking, voice slick with amusement. You faintly wonder why there's a low buzz in your ears.

The question is sharp-toned, but there's something underneath his smooth voice that almost dares you to continue watching. As if he's aware of the effect of proxy brutality. You want to scowl, to look away, to prove that you aren't transfixed by the bleeding mess of an awful man.

"Nothing at all," you reply, and voice is colder than you'd intended — all to mask the faint trace of fascination that lingers in your tone.

Naoya glowers at you, lazily lifting his hand to capture the blood-red streak with the tip of his tongue. The faintest trace of wine marking the curve of his jaw. What an oddly intimate gesture, one that shouldn't be nearly as captivating as it is.

With a casual flick, he's breaking off a piece of the pomegranates flesh. White and succulent, with the little arils clinging to the flesh like jewels.

"Be a good wife, and open your mouth."

You glance down at the fruit in his hand, irritation flickering at the back of your throat. Licking acidic flames in your chest, "I'm not hungry anymore."

Naoya doesn't even bat an eye, his gaze already bored as he leans back, unimpressed by your resistance. Infuriatingly arrogant in his manner, "Don't want people thinkin' there's something wrong with my bride. Go on, open."

With a sharp, deliberate sigh, you part your lips. Heat suddenly coiling tight sinews around your hips. Eyes locked onto his hazy, copper gaze with the slightest flicker of defiance.

Naoya tips the arils into your mouth, and you take the opportunity to nip at his fingers, pointed and sharp. Just enough to make him jerk back in surprise. His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you see conflicted disgust flash across his face.

But the taste, the sweet and tangy burst of juice on your tongue, it catches you entirely off guard. It's blooming across your senses, like the most unexpected pleasure. The tartness of the fruit lingering longer than you'd anticipate. Despite yourself, you almost lean into it.

Naoya's expression tightens as he wipes his hand on the edge of his robes, so irritated. But a flicker of something darker passes across his features. Whether it's annoyance, or loathing, or something else, you cannot tell.

"Better now?" Naoya mutters, voice thick with irritation as though you'd personally dragged him through a field of thorns.

"All thanks to you," you reply, sardonic sugar snapping through your teeth. Wiping the corner of your mouth with a lazy swipe of your thumb, smearing away the fruit's crimson stain.

Naoya's grumbling something under his breath about summoning Ten Shadows to whisk him out of this ridiculous wedding feast. Something far more sharp and acerbic follows, but it's not able to cut through your growing haze.

You're about to respond when his hand — warm, and rough, replaces your own. Thumb pressing against your lower lip with a firm, almost possessive and angry drag. Wiping away the sticky remnants of the juice.

Without thinking, or without fully understanding why, you let your tongue dart forward, brushing the pad of his thumb. A slow, deliberate gaze. Teeth follow, with dull pressure, as you pull the digit just a little further into your mouth.

You can feel the shift almost immediately.

Naoya goes still, the barest hitch of breath betraying him before he yanks his head back like you'd scalded him. But not before you catch the faintest tremour in his grip, or the way his sharp eyes darken. His neck flushes, a telltale searing burst of heat creeping up beneath the golden fall of his hair.

"They give you something before the ceremony?" His tone is off, almost accusing, as he's clearing his throat. Glowering at you, as if you're to blame for the crack in his insurmountable arrogance.

You shrug, fingers brushing the rim of your shallow cup. Letting cool water trickle down your suddenly parched throat, "Yeah. Something 'bout relaxing me. Or making things easier." You frown, a little breathless, wondering why heat coils in your chest, and prickles at the nape of your neck, "It didn't do anything at the time though."

Naoya stares at you for a beat too long, his teeth catching his lower lip. Worrying the plush, pink flesh — dragging a thin, cold hand through flaxen hair, rifling pale green roots.

And then, your new husband's scoffing, "Same here. Not that I need help performing there." His gaze is sweeping over you again, slow and deliberate. His eyes trace the curve of your mouth, the swan-slope of your throat. The heat of his amber eyes make your skin prickle, tugging at something just beneath the surface.

"I think you'll make it easy enough."

Your pulse kicks against your ribs. Eyes snapping to him, ignoring the dull throb low in your groin, and how each breath of air seems so much sweeter and heavier, "Make what easy?"

Naoya's expression wavers, just for a second — enough to give you a glimpse of his own faltering composure. As though he's genuinely fearing that you're that clueless, cocking a dark brow with an edge of incredulity.

"You don't think that platform's there for show, do you?" He's knocking his head back towards the dais behind the two of you. The plush, emerald cushions scattered over velvet drapes that pool at the sides. Ornate and so uncomfortably obvious for all those who have eyes.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Naoya's metallic eyes glint with triumph, watching the realisation dawn on your features like it's the best entertainment he's had all evening. His lips curling into something that's more of a lion's grin, rather than a smile, "You're not that stupid, are you?"

"I'm not!" You snap, "I just didn't think — I didn't realise, it was going to be...there." You're jabbing a jewel encrusted finger at the platform, not caring which fussy elder sees.

Naoya's grin sharpens, teeth flashing with unrestrained, wolfish amusement. Jerking his chin towards the dias, "Yes. Right there. What'd you think? Some privacy, or maybe, a little mood lighting?

Your scowl hardens like stone, "Well, no. But —"

Your husband sarcastically interrupts you, chopping the air with one hand, "No, no. You're right. Why didn't we think about setting the mood? Lanterns, maybe? Candles, or how about a live string quartet for m'wife just because she said so?"

Your glower deepens, a slow burn crawling beneath your skin. You forgo the water this time, opting instead for the nearest cup of sake. The burn of it sears your throat, a welcome distraction.

"You'd think people would drop this kinda' thing by now," you mutter, swallowing hard as the air seems so much warmer, "It's the 21st century, for god's sake."

Naoya shrugs, the silk of his robes shifting as you can watch a thin drop of perspiration roll into the crook of his neck — you wonder if he's just as affected as you are right now. Wondering who will crack first. "I don't mind watching. Or being watched."

The sake nearly comes back up, "You're obscene."

A soft hum, dark and amused, slips from his throat. Then a finger, his finger, hooks beneath the curve of your jaw. Titling your head towards him with a hardened pressure that feels surprisingly gentle in this hazy state.

"M'wife wants me to take them out instead?" Naoya's voice is a lazy drawl, but there's a dangerous gleam in his amber-shard eyes. Thumb skimming lower, tracing the delicate dip of your collarbone as a shiver prickles down your spine, "Force them all away so I get ya' all to m'self?"

You swallow hard, breath hitching as his hand lingers, "Yeah. Because I'm sure you could take on an entire room of sorcerers. Jus' so we could —"

The corners of Naoya's mouth twitch, his eyes dark with something almost hungry. And jeering, "Just say the word."

Your gaze flickers to the far corner of the room. Gojo Satoru sits there, arms folded across his opulent, oceanic yukata. The head of the Gojo clan looks thoroughly put-out, sandwiched between two elderly women that gossip into his ears. His white hair gleams under the warm lanterns, and you're certain that Six Eyes can catch every word being passed through this room.

"No-one can land a hit on Master Gojo," you murmur, voice slow and syrupy. The heat in your blood feels unnatural, liquid fire curling beneath your skin, pooling low in your belly. Your head is swimming by now, heavy and light all at once.

And there's Naoya's stupid, stupid cologne. Something dark, and wooden. Edged with a sharp spice, clouding your senses and tangling with the sweet, heady ache that builds in your chest. It's all too much, his nail dragging into the tender skin of your neck. Just over your jumping bulse.

The worst part? Your body betraying all rational thoughts, leaning into your husband. To find yourself closer to this man that you do not like. Entitled. Arrogant. The heir to the Zenin clan is fuckin' awful.

"Mhm, perhaps they can all watch then. Stay as I fuck my wife, yeah?" Naoya says, low and quiet. But there's no softness to it, only possession. A claim that crackles at you, sends you hurtling towards no good end.

"You know I don't like you, right?" You breathe, marvelling at how little it would take to close this distance, with nary a care for whose eyes have turned to you now.

A huff of laughter escapes your husband, warm and bitter, "I don't quite like you either." His hands have found the edges of your robes, teasing the silken fabric, and for a moment, Naoya Zenin looks almost thoughtful. Except that priggish smirk never quite leaves his face. His peach-tinged skin flushes darker, and his glassy eyes flicker, "But they wanted a show, right? Wanna' give it to them?"

You don't even wait to consider. Ignoring the protests of the elders, who jump and claim that these things have to be done in all due time, with proper ceremony.

The kiss is fast, furious. Lips crashing into his before the words have fully left his mouth. You taste rich and tangy fruit on his tongue, and it's both maddening, and so sweet, mixing with the sake that's drenched your mouth.

Naoya's faint sound of surprise, the soft grunt as he sinks into the kiss? Hiking a toned arm around your waist to pull you closer as the audience gasps? That's a victory.

You drag your mouth back, letting clingy and cloying strands of slick linger in between your lips. You've been pulled right onto your husband's lap, perched on his emerald, jewel-toned haori. Taking in the sight of Naoya briefly speechless, warm and angrily flushed.

"Not playin' fair," Naoya seethes, "K-know your place, wife."

But you're too far gone now to entertain his bullshit, pawing at the edges of his robes. Swivelling your hips down so you can have some pressure applied where you need it most. Right over there, a thick and solid curve that has the both of you gasping, "M' so, hah, feelin' so faint."

Naoya groans, and curls his fingers over the nape of your neck, forcing you to look down at him from your perched position, "L-listen to me all proper, an' I can fix that."

"Enough!" A sharp voice cuts through the heat between you, splintering like glass shattering on stone. You blink, dazed as dew begins to gather on your lashes, just in time to see a twitching elder standing at the edge of the room, face blotchy red beneath a crown of thinning white hair. He's shaking a bony finger in your direction, pale robes swishing, "Enough of this depravity!"

"There are proper proceedings to this ceremony, to this consummation." His voice is rising, veins straining in his neck as the room is silent, "Not whatever this is!" Waving his hands now, as though his gestures are enough to warrant purification.

You try to muster some level of embarrassment, some shame as the eyes of the room fall on the two of you. But all you feel is a thick ache and thrum of heat still simmering, pulse skipping in your throat. Your lips tingle from where they touched Naoya's, tasting of sake and sugar, and —

Oh. His lips. You glance at your husband, whose mouth is still glossy and swollen from your kiss.

Naoya's barely turned his head towards the outburst. He's already running his hands down your robes, doing his utter best to undo whatever he can. To lave sharp fangs over skin, and leave blooming marks. He's languid, half-lidded, with a wicked spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.

He looks thoroughly unbothered, tongue flicking lazily over his lower lip, "Proper proceedings?" Naoya drawls, the corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk that makes you desperate to catch it, "Isn't a little late for that? Hah, I mean, ya' spiked m'wife and I. How are y'not shocked when she's panting over me like a bitch in heat?"

The elder turns a deeper shade of red, spluttering as he gestures to the raised dais and neatly arranged cushions. You press your lips together to hold back a thin whine. Naoya, having pawed at your ceremonial robes enough, has been sinking teeth over the swell of your breast, making you gasp.

"The platform! The customs and —"

There's a crowd of eyes on you. The elders, the clan heads, the nobles, the sorcerers. All of them, scattered through the room, lingering like ghosts. Some, you think, have left for sanctity. You're not sure when, your mind is still a haze of warmth, and confusion, and lust. Too caught up in the way that Naoya's fingers brush and dig into your waist.

But there are others still here. Stubborn, and not powerful enough to grant themselves leave, and so, they cannot claim the right to exit. You're aware of silent whispers, of the way they lean in and keel over. Faces pinched in curiosity, discomfort, as though you're a prized creature in a zoo that they both hesitate and marvel to look upon.

With no choice but to watch the Zenin heir with his hand on your waist, his new bride of the clan. The future madam that they're now forced to acknowledge.

"N-Naoya," you mumble, tearing your nails into the fine haori. Some desperate hope to expose searing skin to the air, already sweltering in the summer heat, "Can't we jus' -"

Your husbands tuts, pressing a firm finger to your candied lips, "Shh! Gotta' make sure m'silly wife knows how to speak up. So everyone can hear, try again." He sounds almost pained, and you wonder how Naoya Zenin hasn't absolutely lost his mind by now. For you feel as though gauze has been draped over you, casting a veil over your senses.

You hear someone mutter disdainful murmurs, something about a spoiled Zenin brat indulging his good-for-nothin' wife.

You can see the flash of anger, and the promise of blood cross Naoya's face, so you seek to roll your hips against his once more, "Jus' thinkin', y'know," you gasp against his slack jaw, "Why don't we jus' move to the platform? I mean, they wanna see, right?"

Naoya's nodding, sandy hair falling into his eyes, "Hah, yeah. That's right. Wanted a show, and that's what we said we've give, jus' gotta hope you can keep up."

He's sweeping you up, hand tight around your wrist as he pulls you over in a brief stumble, pushing you down over the dais. Over green, plush sheets as he splays you out, "Better like this? Tsk, 'ts for me to decide, not you, wifey. And 'm thinking, I like this view so much more."

You're struck by the sight of Naoya Zenin, and it hits you like a sudden wave. Sharp, and bitter, and so impossible to ignore. It's that feeling again, the way you had stomached the creamy rolls on the platter. The same kind of cloying tang that hits the back of your throat when you swallow too fast. The ginseng, and sweet citrus.

His eyes are still glassy, pupils unfocused, and it's the shimmer of tears clinging to the dark, long lashes framing his eyes that make you pause. Crystalline, fragile. But he's already ahead of you, moving faster than you can think, swatting your hand away with forceful grace, pressing his mouth to the corner of yours.

"You jus' gonna keep lookin' at me?" You murmur, reeling from the searing heat of his mouth. Taking in the sight of mussed golden hair, green roots entirely out of place. The divot of creamy, tanned skin from where his robes have loosened.

Naoya blinks, shaking his head as if he's trying to clear it, "You gotta' tell me where you wan' it first." Lips parting, as if he's suddenly not sure what to say to you, like he's drinking in the sight of you and he can't stop.

He's patting a hand to your chest, cupping the swell in your robes, "I don't know if you wan' me here," and then, he's dragging a hand lower still, hand folded over the thick robes that cover your thighs, "Or, here. Probably got ya' weepin' like a poor, little slut down there."

You scowl back at him, "Watch it, 'm not a slut."

Naoya grins, all wolfish canines, "Wasn't talkin' about ya'. Was talkin' about her." Giving you a loving pat in between your legs, "Thinkin' if I pushed these stupid robes right up, everyone could see you drip right onto my waiting hand."

You gasp, pushing your hands onto his broad chest, groaning as his fingers trail further down. Pulling the silk of your robes up further, so your thigh meets cool air, "Can I request a-anything, then?"

Naoya hums, lips pursing as his brow quirks, mocking even, "Wasn't planning on givin' in to ya' so easily, but just this once. Only 'cause it's our wedding night, don't you think?"

"Wan' your mouth."

You see a flash of something pass over Naoya's face. As though he's warring with himself, some obstinate spirit telling him otherwise, but he shakes his head, almost amused, "Y'know, I should have sent ya' back the minute you pushed me into tha' stupid pool. Shoulda' demanded another one. A wife that isn't so mouthy."

He's chuckling now, splaying your thighs further apart with rough hands, an odd sort of deference painting his fine features, "And now look at what you've got me doin', hey?"

Naoya's tutting at you, shaking his head in faux disappointment when you whine in embarrassment, "This is what you wanted, right? For me to show e-everyone jus' how wet you are. I mean, hah, look at this."

Pinning the thickest part of your silken robes over your abdomen, so your legs were bare, parted so he could slot in-between. Amber eyes almost bewildered as he took in the deep, swollen outline of your glossy cunt underneath flimsy garments, "Sittin' there like this, the entire time?" Naoya whistles low, cold and cutting, "I mean, fuck, ya' can really see everything here."

"Shut u-up," you sputter, hearing your own pulse thrum in your ears, in-between your legs. You barely have a chance to take in syrupy air once more, for Naoya's hand is there, swift and firm, pressing over your mouth. Fingers cool against your skin, it's not harsh. But it's forceful enough to swallow your words, as his eyes light up with that familiar, mocking amusement.

"Careful now, wifey," he's grinning, looking far too pleased, "Ya' don't get to give me orders, 'm gonna be doing you a favour."

Naoya doesn't seem burdened by this, not at all. In fact, if anything, he looks downright pleased, like the sight of your weeping, drizzling cunt before his eyes is a golden opportunity that he intends to savour.

He's got an icy finger sliding over the waistband of your gauzy, flimsy undergarments, toying for a brief second. You can see it in the way his beastly fangs curl into a grin, like he's getting off on the scandal of it all. Of having everyone watch in quiet silence as he suddenly tugs. Hard.

The fabric splits with a squelching hiss, thick and sludgy, as you gasp, feeling the heat throbbing in your pussy swell as the cool air hits where you're most sensitive, "You ass, t-those weren't cheap."

Naoya rolls his eyes, amber disappearing into white, "So?" He's drawling, looking up at you from between your thighs, "What, you think I'm some broke bitch?" He's popping a single, long digit into his mouth. Having swiped a curious hand through your glistening folds, marvelling at the slick, translucent strands that followed him. Tongue flicking over the tip like he's savouring something, "Fuck, you're kinda' sweet. Heh, who woulda' thought?"

You open your mouth to protest, but he doesn't even give you the chance. Not even a mere second to form the words, for his hand is patting your cheek. Leaving something sticky and cool lingering on flushed, warm skin. Your own arousal glimmering in the lantern light, upon your skin, for all to see.

It's as if Naoya's humouring you, and it's almost affectionate. If not for the edge in his voice that makes you tighten your thighs around his shoulders, "Don't worry y'dumb, little head about it. Y'know, shit — almost lost a drop there, you know, you're the future Madam of this clan now, right? Anything you want, you'll get."

And he's giving you a look now — head tilted just so, almost tame. Like a promise wrapped in docility. Almost. If you didn't know of him more, if you weren't already simmering with tampered fury from your first meeting, earlier in the day, you may have been fooled. Might have fallen for the gentle downturn of his lashes, like ink pooling on creamy skin. The slow, deliberate way he puffs a small breath against your glossy cunt. Doing you a favour, indeed.

His grin is all teeth, unapologetically smug, as though he knows what you're thinking. Knows that he's destined to clash with you, to draw proverbial blood and blades whenever it amuses him, but he's got you right where he wants you now. Under him, and splayed wide.

Your waiting cunt pooling sweet juices over his wandering fingers — the sharp tip of Naoya's nose twitching before ducking and brushing through your glistening folds. A satisfied chuckle when you arch your spine, desperate for more friction.

"Not that patient, are ya'?" But you don't think you'd be wrong in assuming that Naoya can't hold out much longer, for the crack in his voice betrays him. That melodic, charming, insolent tone giving way to a deeper rasp, like granite grinding against the earth.

You don't know what comes over you, carding a hand through golden, soft locks of hair. Digging into pale green roots, "Think your audience is gettin' bored?"

Naoya almost, so very almost, purrs at your nails digging into his scalp. Pushing himself into your trembling cunt, letting his tongue paint a thin, long stripe right through your throbbing pussy. Reaching up right to your swollen clit, briefly flicking over it.

And now, Naoya is not a sentimental man. Fuck that, he's never been one for gushing, and roses and nauseating sweetness. But this may very well be the first time that he's ever understood what it means to be pussydrunk.

For he's shooting amber eyes up, to where your expression has twisted, almost blissful and idyllic compared to the frown that's been marring your face all day. He'd hate to say it, but he's almost content as the sweet moans that fall from your plush lips, over and over.

"T-that's good, hah, Naoya, 'm — s-so good," You're cracking an eye open to see your flaxen-haired husband snickering, enjoying how damn sensitive your puffy folds are to his ministrations. Only the mild, quiet shuffle of the elders harkens you to their presence, them bearing witness to the consummation.

"Yeahhh," Naoya drawls, angling one bare thigh so it sits over his shoulder, where his robes have slipped right off, "Good, huh?"

"S-surprisingly."

He pinches at your clit in retaliation, just lightly enough that it sends a jolting sensation through your quivering form, but not enough to bring sheer relief, "Watch your whoreish mouth, wife. Could jus' leave ya' here, high and dry." And Naoya's scowling, but despite himself, still pushing his pulsing tongue to the very apex of your core. The glossy, winking entrance where he meets little resistance from your waiting, gummy walls, "Could jus' leave ya' here, and have you rub one out yourself in front of everyone, so you can get off on your own."

You should be ashamed, flushed and embarrassed at how he's speaking to you. There's brief fantasies running through your mind, of strapping your husband down and taping his mouth so he can stop running it so crudely, but you file the thought away for now, arching your hips further into him. Dragging your sloppy, leaking cunt over his face — something he surprisingly welcomes.

Naoya, who's leaning deep enough in between your thighs for the golden strands of hair framing his forehead have been dampened by your arousal, a darker, sandy shade. Pouty lips covered in sweet, tangy sheen, and sticky from munching at your glossy folds.

"Bet they're all watching you," Naoya grins, with little warning as he slides a slender finger into your cunt, immediately curling it in search of some spot, "Bet they're wishing it was them in m'place. Tastin' you like this."

You can't help the involuntary clench of your walls at his words, and Naoya's eyes widen, lashes blown long enough to kiss his eyelids, "Mhm, you like that. But hey," your husband's pumping determined fingers in and out of your cunt, rummaging and massaging at sticky walls, "You're my wife now. Mine to fuck, they can't have what o-only a Zenin can have."

"Can y-you —" You're writhing now, legs spread even wider and you frankly don't care at this point who can see the light reflect your dripping cunt, "A bit f-faster, hah." Let them see, right?

Isn't that why they had you all dolled up, squirming in your seat during the feast so they could watch you fall so undone? And fuck, Naoya would probably slit the throat of another man who dared breathe what he saw this night, if not for your honour, but for his own ego.

"F-faster? Greedy, tch' and you said you w-weren't a pretty, little, slut!" Each word is punctuated with his fingers falling in a curved arc through the air, smacking down over your drooling pussy. Sending sloshes of slick spattering over his finger tips and the edges of his robes, "That's it. Jus' keep your hips like that."

"Heh, hope the lot of ya' are paying attention because she's p-pretty close right about now."

You don't even know who he's speaking to, or where his words are directed because it's an endless rotation for you now. Circling your hips over Naoya's nose, with him greedily lapping at your cunt, with a satisfied look in your eye that just screams of him planning to hold this over your head for at least six months.

You're practically soaking Naoya's smug, beautiful face, smearing translucent mirror-sheen over his chin, and he's pistoning clever, cruel fingers in and out of your tight heat. Messily toying with your throbbing clit, pulling at and under the hood until you're heaving for gasps of sweet air.

"B-bet you'd feel tighter around my cock, y'know that?" Naoya grunts, lips curling to suck around your clit, "Was plannin' to take ya' right here, but think 'm a bit greedy now, hah. Show's gonna be over soon for these cunts, but 's only jus' beginning for us, wouldn't you say, wife?"

You're certain that he must have left bruises at your hips now, right over your groin as he drags you impossibly close to himself, as though he's determined this public display will leave no question as to whether the heir to the Zenin clan can pleasure his wife to the point where you're practically trembling, and abandoning your loathing of the man, temporarily. Just to squirm as tears hang from the edges of your lashes, gleaming from the stimulation, "Wait, w-wait, 'm gonna, I think 'm gonna —"

There's a satisfied noise from Naoya, almost like one of relief, though you know he would be loathe to admit just how affected he is by your climax.

There's a shooting, fleeting sensation in your abdomen. Tremours of pleasure practically streaming and gushing out of you, as you see little else but stars and streaks across your vision, "S-so good, Naoya, fuck. Fuck! I think 'm still cumming, hah, oh my god."

You're hardly even aware of the gushing slick that sprays across Naoya's face and how briefly stunned he looks, and so utterly pleased with himself as you ride out your high. You certainly don't miss at how he almost doubles over, as if there's an equally tightening sensation in his groin as well, pleasurable just from the sight you spread bare for him.

The look on his face cuts sharp — triumphant, smug in a way that speaks of retribution. As though he's just scored the first point in a game that's only just begun.

Before you can so much blink, dazed from your orgasm as heat continues to throb between your thighs, Naoya's arm tightens around your waist. A quick, practiced motion that pulls you flush against him. He's grinning like a man who's already won, a faint and cooling flush now painting his features in some blissful afterglow.

But then, he kisses you. Rough, messy, sloppy even. His lips are hot and unrelenting against yours, a press of teeth and frustration that's more greedier than anything he's done so far. "There, that's it. Tastin' yourself, aren't you?" Naoya's murmuring, nipping at your lower lip.

His arms shift, and he's scooping you up effortlessly. Tilting your world for the second time that day. You're cradled sideways in a bridal hold, against the broad frame of his chest, as his fingers are splayed possessively over your still bare hips. The bastard doesn't even break a sweat.

"Put me down," You scowl at him, but the recent climax is still painting your breathy vocal cords, lacking the heat you had hoped for.

Naoya's golden eyes glitter with amusement, "Nah. We're jus' getting started, don't you think?"

You instinctively grip his robes for balance, and you can feel your husband's chest rumble with laughter, rich and infuriating, "I'm starting to think this whole hate game is a charade, or a ruse. You actually like this."

"I'm starting to think you want a concussion."

Naoya makes a faux-move to drop you, to have you pile to the floor in jittery limbs and crumpled silks, as you desperately cling to him tighter, "Mouthy woman. Can't stand that. Don't like you at all."

The elders, a cluster of now pale-faced men who look like they've just swallowed their own tongues, gape in stunned silence. Their eyes dart between you, rumbled and flushed — thoroughly compromised with the slick that still runs down your thighs. And the heir of the Zenin clan, whose lips are still moist, glistening faintly.

Your husband's tossing them a lazy, half-lidded gaze over his shoulder, "Well," he says, dragging the word slowly, "Like I said, show's over." His voice drips with mock reverence, "We're going."

"Where?" One of the elders, bold or perhaps just stupid, dares to croak, voice thin and trembling like dry parchment.

Naoya stops, just for a breath. His gaze pins the man, golden eyes cold and dangerously amused. "Where do ya' think?" Words like a blade, dripped in honey, "Our quarters, 'course."

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't even glance back as he pushes past the screen door with you still cradled against his chest. His momentum sends it rattling against the frame, and the hushed, horrified whispers that follow are clearly music to his ears.

You glance up, your pulse a rapid thrum against your throat as you take in the faces of the nobles you had excused themselves earlier, milling outside. They shuffle uncomfortable, some pretending they have somewhere better to be. Others frozen in a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled disdain.

Gojo Satoru is still there too, leaning against a wooden fixture, his jaw tight, as though he's working through something unpleasant. Glowering and grumbling something about leaving Tokyo for this, about the Zenins having no class as usual, and you get the idea that unlike last time, his blindfolded gaze is sweeping anywhere but you.

You bite back a smile.

"But...but the consummation!" The elder follows through the doors, his voice thick with outrage, "How can we be sure — the ceremony, it requires —"

Naoya doesn't even let him finish. You can feel the smirk against your temple, pressing over the shell of your ear, "I did all this," he's splaying your robes aside, "With jus' my mouth. Think I can do even better with my cock. Don't worry," He drawls, "I'll make very sure it's all handled."

"I'm going home," Gojo Satoru loudly announces, to no-one in particular.

[transmigrationisunderrated]

ya know, I'm a big fan of roleswap aus for SVSSS, ya know, with disciple SY and shizun Binghe. The thing I've noticed, however, is they never have Binghe purposefully shove SY into the abyss.

I've seen it as a qi deviation and as SY shoving himself in, but I think SY should get the full Binghe treatment.

Here's what I'm thinking;

Luo Binghe is a Demon Lord and a Peak Lord, his climb to power underhanded and bloody, a boy broken by the world, trying to get back his own.

Not as severe as Bingge did in PIDW, this one never had a teacher to crush his dreams of being a religious cultivator, I think.

In this version of PIDW, Shen Jiu is Binghe's treacherous disciple, constantly sabotaging his fellow students and leaching on any woman who came in within two feet of him. He was a pitiful street rat who came to Cang Qiong sect during the test and Binghe's close friend Ling Yingying took pity on and convinced Binghe to let him onto his peak.

He discovers his Shizun is a half demon during the IAC and taunts him, threatening to reveal his identity to the entire cultivator world. In response, Luo Binghe tosses Shen Jiu into the Abyss.

Shen Jiu returns five years later, wielding the demon sword, Xin Mo, coming to wreck his Shizun. Luo Binghe is able to defeat his wayward disciple and claim Xin Mo from him. He then proceeds to have truckloads of nasty sex about it.

Shen Yuan dies cursing the lost potential, as Shen Yuan often does, and is reborn as Shen Jiu, fresh off a qi deviation following one of the harsher punishments Shen Jiu never seemed to learn from.

He goes out of his way to make himself indispensable and undeniably good, as soon as he can get his ooc lock off. In the skinner demon equivalent, Shen Yuan finds himself saddled with a newfound realization that he's 1) gay, 2) gay for Luo Binghe.

Which is the worst realization Shen Yuan could have at this moment, which is exactly why he's having it. Because I want him to suffer. He now has to grapple with his sexuality, who he's into, and what who he's into might do to him, if he fails to change the plot.

He manages to change a lot (saves head disciple Liu Qingge and what not) and grow incredibly close to Binghe (sharing the bamboo hut, sharing meals... isn't this stuff Binghe would do with his first wife Ling Yingying? Could... could that mean..?!) by the time the IAC is coming.

Shen Yuan sees his master's facade be revealed and... Luo Binghe is no innocent child here. He's a man who has hurt so many people to get where he is with minimal regret. Can he really trust one person, a boy who has made him feel alive for the first time, when he's lived a life that's proven trust is a lie?

He decides he can't. Despite Shen Yuan insisting and pleading that he won't tell Luo Binghe's secret to anyone, Binghe tosses him into the abyss.

When Shen Yuan climbs out, early, he is not angry. He... he gets it! Really he does! He's not mad, shut up, Xin Mo, Shizun Binghe, really, he's- why are you running.

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Light angst, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, spitting/spit kink, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, low key breed kink, toxic attraction, lots of emotions, lots of sex. OOC.

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Nine - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Ten

“Riding bareback, you are slutty.” Satoru teases as you ride the white horse next to him, you both chose to ride horses today rather than the carriage. You stick your tongue out, earning his laugh.

“Oh, you’re just mad I’m better at riding than you.”

“You certainly look sexy riding it. Wonder how you’d ride me?” You gasp now, and he chuckles, clicking his boots gently and nudging his black horse on, you nudge yours as well, by rubbing her neck, whispering to her.

“Let’s kick his ass, darling Snow.” She neighs softly, as you squeeze your thighs around her, and giggle as she sets off, passing Satoru in moments.

“Hey now! Brats.” Your hair is flying in a wave behind you, the wind blowing through your face, and in these moments it’s difficult to remember Satoru was terrible before, that you’re not likely going to be together for long.

How easy it is to forget.

That morning he’d had coffee ready for you, and surprised you with a brand new saddle for your pretty horse. You had melted at that gesture, sure he was terrible before, sure you remembered it, but you appreciated what he was doing now. Satoru had helped you set it all up, and before that you all had brought baskets together for the village, medicines and herbs to help.

He was heavily involved in it all, he was not skimping on his duties, and now as you both trot along, and he looks at you so intensely, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, you’re enamored against your own judgment. You’ve never felt this, could it be from last night? Could it be physical? Or was it… 

More.

He had not touched you today aside from helping you up your horse, yet even that moment had you a flustered mess, as if you were courting as a young girl, those little moments with Suguru long ago, and even with Satoru originally. You remember he was a little distant but you felt giddy as he would promenade with you, getting so thrilled from his flowers he’d bring.

You frequently wonder even more now how things could have been if he had not chosen this path, this heartbreaking path that has irrevocably changed you, you are not and never will be the same. Satoru had changed everything you once knew, those lofty dreams you had were crushed when you had your wedding night, only for you to feel so much last night it shattered anything.

You think upon sweet Nanami, how you’ve left him heartbroken and had not truly meant to, you would have been content with Nanami, you just felt it was wrong to lead him to believe your feelings were at that level. His face now in your head breaks your heart, you wish you had not hurt him so.

Physically just kissing Satoru eclipsed anything you’d done with Nanami at all, even when those kisses were brutal and toxic, when he’d smacked and choked you, it did things to you none of Nanami’s careful, skilled touch could. That made you feel even worse, Nanami had not trusted you for good reason, but how could you tell your… husband… no when your entire being craved it?

Nanami was better off without you.

He’d have been better off without you ever talking to him, ever sharing your pain with him, and he wanted to save you so badly from yourself, and you bitterly know you’re just a disappointment to him. It was as if you disappointed everyone at times, except…

“Deep in thought, Princess?” Satoru asks, making you sigh, looking over at him, your hands gently holding the reins under your silk gloves.

“Indeed.”

“Thinking of your baker?”

“I destroyed him, Satoru.” You whisper, and he frowns then, nudging his horse a little closer, to fall into step with you, a hand reaching to touch your thigh, burning you with his touch.

“Destroyed him?” He asks, softly, instead of getting angry you’re thinking of Nanami. It surprises you,  so different from how Nanami reacted, it was as if Satoru knew that it hurt you and did not mind listening, like he just accepts that it did happen.

It oddly brings you more comfort knowing you can speak of such things, though you do not want to hurt Satoru either. Did not want to hurt anyone anymore.

“He begged me to stay, and I fully turned him down. He must hate me now, I would not blame him.”

He clears his throat, hands gripping just a little tighter now, heating you up from the touch. “Why did you turn him down?”

You look at him, your hand touching his, biting your lower lip as your horses trot slowly next to each other. “My feelings were no match for his, how could I let him believe they were? It would be wrong. But I know he loved me.”

“Did he really know you, though…”

“What, are you saying if he did, he wouldn’t?”

“No, bratty girl. I just wonder, does he know how mean you are? How ridiculously snarky?”

“Fuck off, Satoru.” You laugh though, and he smirks.

“He dodged a bullet with you- ow!” You smack the fuck out of him, and he feigns pain now, laughing softly. “No, let me be serious, of course he fell in love quickly, especially… making love to you, you’re so beautiful, you’re smart, those sounds you make? How you feel… yes, I believe anyone would.”

His words bring vivid memories of last night to your mind, of him inside of you, so deep, you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you began. Fuck.

“We should not speak of these things.” You say, looking away nervously, at the rolling green hill, the village coming into view.

“Why not?”

“Because we were unfaithful-”

“In a marriage we were forced into. And I regret it, surely, all of it, but I do not think you should judge yourself so harshly.”

You look at him carefully. “You’re being kind.”

“Is it so odd?”

“It’ll take getting used to. I suppose I just feel terrible for coming into his life, and for him loving me when I could not return it.”

“Do you know what love is, little Princess?” You look at him seriously then, shaking your head. “Then how do you know you did not?”

You brush your fingers down the back of his hand now. “He explained this feeling, where he could not bear to be without me, and I’m afraid I did not share that. That he had fallen so deeply, but for me it was a comfort, a joy, something pleasurable. Perhaps like your…”

“They’re not even that. They were just physical, their personalities honestly annoyed me. They’re simple I guess.”

“You chose that. Intimidated by smart girls?”

“Terrified of you.” You meet his smile, finally easing your hand off his, sighing. “Why do that? I love holding your hand.”

“We are too comfortable. Too happy. We should not be so.”

His expression hardens, he sits up more on top of his horse, back straightening. “So continue in the misery?”

“No! But… it hurts more, knowing this is how it could have always been. A beautiful relationship.” Your eyes meet, and he sways his head, but you carry on, leaving him to watch you. “Bet I’ll beat you!”

“Nah, I’ll win.” He rushes to you now, and fuck if you don’t enjoy him, laughing as he starts beating you in the race, and you feel an odd lightness you have never felt, even before him.

What is this feeling?

“They’re bootiful, Duchess!” Your sweet girl from yesterday cooes to you, her mother had returned your tiara even though you tried to let her keep it, so you have decided to make all the girls that have gathered crowns of twigs and flowers. Little crowns of white and purple flowers are sitting atop their heads, all but the last little girl you’re finishing up.

Satoru is dealing with business matters, while you have delivered the medicines and the herbs, agreeing to meet back up. He’s riding his horse and yours is right next to him in step, he’s holding the reins, and fuck if Satoru Gojo does not look sexy riding a horse. Especially in his dark blue riding gear and this top hat covering his snowy hair, that still peeks through.

You may or may not be eyeing his entire tall, lithe body when he hops down with ease, his toned legs starkly apparent in the light tan riding breeches he’s wearing, it’s clear he’s quite an equestrian. He smiles over at you, what a mess you must look like, knees in the field, your hair is loose around your shoulders, skirt covered in dirt, you certainly are not very ladylike right now.

“And what have we here, so many princesses!” He says then, as the little girls run up to him.

“Duchess made them!” They all shout nearly at once, and you laugh softly, feeling your bare hands so sore now, the sticks are snapping and smacking at you in places, but they turned out so good! And the kids smiling makes you so happy you cannot take it.

“She’s so skilled, look at this craftsmanship!” He says enthusiastically, with a wink shot your way. “Say, would you all like to pet her horse?”

“Yes please!” They all start petting Snow, Satoru’s horse wants nothing to do with them, arrogantly having his head in the air. You can’t stop the smile decorating your face, nor the warmth in your heart at the scene.

“Arrogant like his owner.” You tease as he comes closer, you’re down to the last tiara to be made finally.

“Are you talking shit, bratty girl?” You duck your head as he walks toward you, sighing now. “Aren’t you a vision?”

“I’m a mess!”

“No, you’re… a corny poet could put it correctly. I’m afraid beautiful is all I can come up with.” He leans down, studying you carefully. “In your element.”

You tilt your head, as he brushes your messy hair back gently. “Well thank you, but are you saying my element is dirt?”

“It certainly is.”

“Hey now… ugh, ow!” You look to your hands now, kneeling on the soft bed of grass, realizing you have another splinter from the twigs. Satoru looks at you, brows together, coming to kneel down in his fancy suit, surprising you when he takes your hand carefully.

“No more twigs, you’ll ruin these pretty hands.” You snort then, blowing a tuft of hair that’s fallen in front of your face.

“Can hands even be pretty?”

“Yours are. Despite the stubby fingers.”

“Hey!” He chuckles then, handing the little girl her tiara now, placing it on her head carefully with a bow. Your breath catches then, as you see this silly, goofy side of Duke Gojo, was this who he was before?

“Thank ye, yer Grace!” The girl says, running off now, and Satoru helps you up to stand, looking at your hand carefully.

“It’ll be fine until we get home, Duke. Ah!” He gently runs a fingertip along your palm.

“You have three splinters, tch. You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Oh don’t baby me, I’m a big girl.” You stick out your tongue, earning a glare from his pretty blue eyes.

“Yer Grace, please come inside, I have tweezers and antiseptic.” One of the ladies says now, looking at the Duke nervously. “It would be right cramped for a Duke and Duchess, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense, we appreciate it.” Satoru says, his pouty pink lips turned up at the corners. You hate how your heart falters, at how sweet his smile is, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so, enrapturing you.

“Come on then, ye two, ah to have royalty in my humble home!” You follow Satoru inside the home then, a little cabin with a thatched roof, she sits you on the bed then, a little straw bed, you sit down and peek around, you notice how quaint and cute the home is.

“Oh it’s so lovely.” You say, and she blushes, shaking her head.

“Indeed not, yer Grace. Would you like me to assist?” She asks Satoru, and he shakes his head.

“No, I had enough scrapes as a boy with my friends to know how to remove splinters.” You’re surprised, you had pegged Duke Gojo for someone who really did not know how to do things like that, perhaps you have a lot you’re curious to know, before this month is up.

Why does the month ending hurt to think of?

“I’ll give ye both some privacy.” She walks out, leaving you both alone in the cozy little home.

Satoru carefully puts your hand in his lap now, gently wiping it with a washcloth that’s nice and warm. You study his face as he studies your hand carefully, his thin white brows drawn together, lips pursed just a bit, snowy lashes lowered so that you could not see the pretty blue of his eyes. He peeks at you for a moment, making you blush at getting caught staring.

“Am I so pretty to look at?” He asks with a raised brow, plucking a splinter out now, you hiss a bit.

“You are pretty and cruel, so merciless with your tweezing!” You say with a glare, earning another chuckle from him.

“Two more. Keep distracted, think of something nice. Like… hmm, cumming all over my mouth last night?”

You gasp. “Ah!” He yanks another, smirking now, and you scoff, but your body overheats, at how he’s gently gripping your wrist, sliding a thumb up along the thin veins of your inner wrist now. “Why would I think of that?”

“You tell me, you have goosebumps on your breasts, your hips are shifting, a blush decorating your cheeks. Are you thinking of it?” He whispers, leaning close, and your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“You would be the most slutty doctor.” He laughs then, genuinely, and it’s so bright you laugh as well.

“I probably would be, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d travel the world and sleep with every woman- oof!” He yanks the last splinter out, still laughing a bit, his broad shoulders shaking with it.

“You are so funny, I…” He blinks a bit then, clearing his throat. “I guess I did not know someone could make me laugh so much, aside from Suguru.”

“He is also quite funny, isn’t he?”

“You really kissed him, huh?” You flush again, sighing. “You do not have to explain it if you don’t want to.”

“Truly?” He nods, now leading you to the little sink, where he washes your hand carefully, just bits of blood from pulling them out.

“I deserve anything you’ve done and worse.” You hear it, his hatred of himself, and it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I will explain. It was that night when you had brought Catherine to dinner. I had a panic attack, after the um… tightening the corset comments.” You whisper, looking down now where he holds your hand, feeling emotions catch in your throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You looked perfect that night.” His voice is hoarse as he dries your hand carefully inside the little cabin, and when you look up you see he is sincere, see the hurt on his face.

“Yes I… it hurt me, it triggered things that I’ve tried to fight from my own mother, and my grandmother before her. To barely eat, to the point of feeling faint, to keep my corset so tight I can’t breathe, all to be a ‘delicate lady’.” Your memories are bitter in your throat.

“That is cruel. You’re already a petite girl. Even so, to push yourself that far… it’s not okay, especially if you wish for children.”

“I know. Well you did shove those scones in my face, so we are all good now.” He smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“So Suguru kissed you after that night?”

“He followed me out, I was a disaster, I do not think he meant it other than some sort of… comfort. It’s hard to explain. To make me feel desired, attractive, when I felt so very…” You blink then, sucking in a breath to prevent your tears. Satoru is gently rubbing ointment on your hands now, staring at your palm carefully.

“I made you feel…”

“Ugly. Hideous.”

He shuts his eyes, two lines between his brows forming. “It was never so. It was I who was being hideous.” He brings your hand to his lips now, kissing each spot gently, wrecking your resolve, enhancing every feeling as you both open up more to each other. “You should not forgive that.”

“I know. But you feel remorse-”

“I remember you dropping that spoon, the clatter it made along with your pretty face, fallen. I felt so horrible, I tried to apologize, but I was still a piece of shit, and it was so half assed.”

“It was. But it’s behind us.”

He laughs without humor. “You are being too forgiving. I honestly understand why he would kiss you, he liked you long before me, and he also wished to make you feel… wanted, that is what you wished for as well.”

You nod a bit. “Yes. He did not go further, he also brought the puppy to cheer me up.”

“Suguru would be good for you. Perhaps you’d have been happy if you were arranged to marry him.” Your lips part then, stepping just a little closer, you hear the children playing outside, here the animals in the distance, chickens clucking, the whirl of the stove, but you also hear your heart race in your ears as you look at him.

“Sure, we would have been, but…”

“What if you could marry him, what if I could try to make it happen?” You exhale, shutting your eyes now, before stepping even closer, so close you inhale his scent into your nostrils, intoxicating you. His hand still holds yours carefully.

“You would do that?” He nods carefully, gulping now, pressing another kiss to your palm.

“I know he would be a good match, he’s of good standing, he would adore you, give you babies. Be a good father, be kind. If anyone had to have you, I would prefer him. I’m sorry your baker… I just cannot see that being good enough financially. You are still of high standing you know, and the scandal will nearly ruin you as is, Suguru could mitigate it, make it some ‘love match’.”

“You’ve thought this through?” He nods then, and you sigh. “You are becoming pretty caring, Satoru.”

“Me caring? Psh.” You smile softly now.

“That is caring, and selfless.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m still selfish, all I can think of is ways to make you want to stay, or ways to make up for the rest of my days if you’d let me. So do not think I’m going out without a fight.”

“I see that. Well, you have some points today, look at you, a whole medical professional.” He snorts, rolling his pretty eyes, and you take a breath, yanking him down by his tie, making him exhale against your lips. “Let me reward you, kind sir, for your care of me.”

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, his free hand yanking you by the waist, slamming his lips on yours, and you kiss him back eagerly, those violent moths in your tummy flitting into delicate butterflies. It’s a different kiss, it’s softer, sweeter, not a prelude to something sexual, it’s sweet and genuine. “How do you always taste so good?”

“I do not know, with my bitter coffee habit.” He laughs softly, cupping your face in his big hands. “It touches me that you look out for me, even if we will not be together. It means you… are trying. I see it.”

“Is it all too late?” He asks softly, and you take a breath to tell him no, it’s not too late, you may be a whole fucking fool but you feel so much with him, not just physical, but how do you open up fully, after everything?

“Satoru-” The door opens back up, and you two step back just one step each, his hand holding yours again as the lady walks back in, smiling at you both.

“So deeply in love, aren’t you both? What a dream!” She says, her hand on her chest, and you shyly look down, as Satoru stares at you.

“Falling deeper every day.” He murmurs, your eyes catch him, and you can’t take it, how easily it flows with him, how much you want to fall right in his arms. You try to compose yourself, curious if it could be true, or if he’s being sweet for the lady. But is it… true?

“Indeed, we are.” You answer softly, earning his little smile, a smile that comes to mean more by the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to tell me?” You ask carefully, in his study later that night, Satoru nods, clearly uncomfortable now, when he pulls out a locket, a thick rose gold one that hangs on a looped chain.

“I owe it to you, to explain this. Her name… was Adelia.” He manages to say, and you tilt your head curiously as you watch the pain on his handsome face.

“Was? Is she…”

“Not dead, though I would prefer that. I’m horrible, I know.”

“Satoru…”

“She’s banished, when I became Duke I sent her far, far away. But she’s alive and kicking, I’m sure, out in France somewhere. I gave her plenty of money for the rest of her life.” He says with a harsh laugh, then he looks at you carefully, taking your hand and looking at it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all, I had a good doctor.” He smiles sadly, then places the locket in your hand, and you open it, gasping.

You look at Satoru then, vulnerable and exhausted, then look back at his locket, at this woman who truly looks exactly like you, to the point it is eerie. It’s almost as if it is you, she surely is some relation or perhaps a long lost sister, the only difference is she’s older than you, and her eyes are different, just a bit. They’re the same color, but there's something cold in them.

“She looks like a twin sister.” You murmur softly, sitting down in the big leather chair Satoru frequently falls asleep in as he pours over his work. He sighs, nodding, leaning against the chair, sitting just at the arm.

“It’s uncanny, is it not?” He murmurs, and you think of him then, with her, and for some reason it makes you sick.

“It’s eerie, certainly. Adelia was her name?”

“Yes. I long ago said I’d never utter her name, but you deserve to know, as for what she did…” He stands then, walking away, pacing the study now, running a hand through his silky hair. You stand as well, walking to the center of the room and stopping him with gentle hands.

“Tell me, please, so that I may understand.” You are pleading softly, and he exhales then, nodding, but you see his jaw tense, feel his emotions rising.

“Long story cut very short, I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen, she was so funny, witty, smart. Unlike anything. I was pathetic for her, spent anything I had, made myself go into debts with my father over the extravagant gifts.” You try to picture Satoru that way, and he notices. “I know it’s a far cry from who I am now.”

“No, I believe I can see you being generous.” You say softly, because the man had literally bought you a horse, and you’ve seen him be very generous with his friends and the staff. It wasn’t out of the realm.

“Generous was an understatement. I let her walk all over me, and thanked her for it. I even knew she had other men, and I’d still beg for her.” You suck in a breath, feeling the hurt, the anger emanating from him.

“Oh.” Is all you manage. “It was disloyal, so you decided to-”

“No, no, I was not disloyal once to her. I only treated you that way.” Satoru chokes on the words, taking several breaths now, as you stand in front of him, the fire crackling in the study, casting shadows of your figures across the walls, flickering flames higher and higher.

“I see.” Is all you can manage. “I suppose I did it as well, and that’s what triggered your reaction?”

“I never should have reacted that way.” He caresses your cheek softly, sighing, leaning lower. “Do not give me excuses for my actions.”

“Not excuses, they are reasons I suppose.”

“Still, even so.” His hand drops then, to your shoulder, resting on one of your puffed sleeves, his long fingers gently touching the fabric. “It’s not that, why I hated you for looking like her, she did something far worse.”

Your brows knit together. “Worse than cheating on you constantly?”

“Yes she… well her and my father…”

You blink then, as it all starts to fall together, Satoru’s fury at his dead father, his fear of having children because he would be just like them, and the unreasonable way he hated you on sight. She couldn’t have…

“She slept with him?” You manage softly, and he nods just a bit, taking several breaths, you gently hold his arms. “Holy fuck.”

“You have such a sailor's tongue.” He says with a little smile, as his eyes glimmer with unshed emotion. “For such a pretty mouth.”

“Satoru, I’m truly sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s no excuse for what I did. But… I hope now, it makes any sense at all. But you never, ever deserved one goddamn thing I did.” He’s looking away now, covering his face, shaking his head. “Nothing I have done to you is okay, I swear I will take it to my fucking grave, the hurt on your face-”

“Satoru.” You gently say, easing his hand down, seeing the glistening of tears on his pale cheek, you swipe it gently, and his hand is delicately holding yours, keeping it there.

“I do not deserve pity or comfort from you, I was terrible. I can’t make up for it, I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this.” His chest heaves now, and you feel your own emotions jolt to life, at his desperation. “And what’s worse, is now I find myself falling for you, and I know I’m not good enough.”

“Falling for me?” You look at him in shock, shaking your head. “Certainly a physical connection-”

“No.” He cuts you off now, bending low, pressing your back against the cherry wood desk of his. Your heart thuds in your chest, as you look up at swirling blue eyes by the fire light of the study, as it casts shadows and planes on his perfect features, features that become dear more and more as you look at them.

“No?” Your voice is a breath.

“No, not just physically. I thought so at first, your beauty outshines hers, you clearly are my type, what a lie that was.”

“Um… clearly.” You manage with a little laugh, and he glares.

“Do not excuse it, do not make light of it, any of it.”

“I am not.”

“But it’s not just physical, today when you were hand twisting fucking crowns for those kids, cutting your pretty hands on those twigs.” He takes one now, running his fingers where little scratches were left, and your breaths come faster and faster. “Yesterday, when you held that little girl. When you lit up and thanked me for that horse. When I saw your true beauty, so deep within.”

“Please… don’t. Don’t say that!” You feel your eyes burn, your throat closing up, as he steals more and more of your heart, wicked fucking Duke Gojo, but he’s serious, while he’s brushing your loose hair back, making your knees weak.

“I can’t help but say it, before you leave me forever.” His voice breaks now, and you’re clinging to his dress shirt, that’s falling loosely over his lithe body. “I love your kind heart, I love your caring nature, fuck everyone in that villiage adores you, everyone adores you. Even my goddamn former mistress, my best friends, they love you.”

You shake your head. “No, I just…”

“And every time I paraded them around, those women, you held your composure, but I know it killed you. I know it did. It hurt you. And I can’t forgive myself for it. For hurting someone so pure and sweet, and pushing you so far, so far you ran into a man’s arms, and I don’t blame you. I don’t.”

“Please don’t. Don’t say all this!”

“Say what, that my heart yearns to see that smile, the one that lights up the entire world?” You choke on your sobs, and he’s swiping at your tears, his own lip trembling as he takes a shaky breath. “That my body burns for your touch, that you haunt my every dream, and every waking moment.” His husky tone nearly breaks you then and there, as your breasts heave up and down with every breath.

“You can’t mean it. You can’t.” You choke out the words, as you feel yourself drawn to him, like he is that all consuming black hole, and you’d be fine getting destroyed if it meant being in his arms.

“I for once am honest, after a month of lies. Feel my heart.” He puts your little hand on his chest, and you feel it, pounding, making you weak, as your eyes lock upon each other.

“It cannot be true, not a word. If you felt that you would have never!”

“I grew to feel it more and more. Now it’s consuming me, whole, I’d let you walk all over me just to feel your goddamn step. I’d let you destroy me just to watch your pretty face as you do. I would do anything to see you smile, to see your face as you feel pleasure, to taste you, to-”

“Fuck, shut up, shut up!” You shove at him now, and he lets you, gulping and staring at you so pleadingly, this six foot plus man who looms so tall, seems so small and fragile. “I hate you more for saying it all! For making me believe it!” You cry out hoarsely, and he lets you smack at him, nodding, just standing there.

“You should hate me, you should never forgive me.” He whispers sullenly, and you hate that you want to forgive him, that you want him to…

“Hold me, please.” You beg softly, and he breaks with you, holding you tightly against his hard body, enwrapping his strong arms around you, as you bury your face against his chest, crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every moment making it up, as much as I can, before you leave.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and you realize then, you don’t want to fucking leave. “I know I have lost you, I know I never had you.”

“Satoru.” You lean up, looking at him now, and he brushes your endless tears with his long fingers, gulping and nodding for you to continue. “I’m not saying I will stay, but I will say… I have not yet made up my mind to leave, either.”

He blinks then, with those teary lashes, sucking in a breath, his blue eyes swirling as they study you. “You haven’t!?”

“No. Not yet. It does not mean I forgive you, or even like you. But it does mean that… I wish to understand you more, to understand this more.” You take his hand, feeling the thrumming energy between you both. “I will give you that chance, the month, to show me who you are, before I decide fully.”

“I thought I had no chance. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.” He whispers, and you take a shaky breath now.

“Well, you are trying, and I see it.”

“It’s not too late?”

“I do not know yet. Do you mean it, what you said, about seeing me, seeing me truly?”

He laughs softly, brushing your hair back tenderly, kissing your forehead, something you never thought Duke Gojo would do. “Oh, Princess, I mean every fucking word. I see your heart and soul, the kindness, but you know what I also see? Your bad mouth, your ability to destroy me with a look, your snappy little remarks.” He says with a little smirk now.

You smile a bit then, and he smiles down at you, pressing you further into the desk, and you feel your body react quickly. “Oh do you enjoy that, the way I wreck you with my words?”

“I’d let you wreck me in every fucking way.” His hand slides up your skirts now, and your breath quickens. “You’re strong, you’re not some simpering little damsel, you could probably crush me, kick my ass.”

You giggle now, then his hands pause on your bare thigh, fingering your garter belt, and your pussy reacts by clenching around nothing, your head falling back, a little sigh escaping your lips. “Kick your ass, you’re too big and tall.”

“You’re a scary little thing, I think you’d kick me in the dick.” You laugh again, and he marvels at it, his thumb making little circles closer to your heat. Your own hands slide up his chest, as he makes you feel more seen than anyone ever has, and how does he see you so well?

“I was sorely tempted after that whore on the table.”

“You and that tablecloth move? Fuck that made me hard.”

“You’re always hard, you slutty man.” Your fingers drift down to his belt, toying with him, giving him a little smile, and he smirks, his free hand cupping your face.

“I would do anything to feel you again, even knowing I do not deserve you. Give anything for you to sit on my face.”

Your tummy clenches, face flushed at the lewd, insane images he brings. “Sit on your face!? I… what!?”

He sighs, kissing you gently, finding you with his fingers finally, moaning softly as he does, you drink up his moans into your mouth. “I’ve had this fantasy of your thighs on either side of my face, pussy dripping on me.”

“Satoru that… sounds insane!”

“You could shut my mouth up, use me how you want. Ride me.” His words destroy you, his touch on your clit makes you moan, and he’s watching you hungrily, lips parted. “Fuck you’re beautiful. So wet, I want it dripping down my face.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” You whisper, but your hips are leaning forward, to more of his touch, Satoru’s lips hover just above yours, and you embarrassingly hear how wet you are when he’s rubbing between your lips.

“You shouldn’t give me anything, but you do, and I’m too selfish and greedy not to drink up every bit of it. Of you.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss so-” You yank him down now, slamming his lips upon yours, he’s grabbing at you desperately, tongue swirling in your mouth, as his fingers find you so hot and eager, soaking him. “I could never kiss another set of lips.”

“Liar.”

“Well, your other set of lips.” He says with a smirk, and you hate it, how charming he is, how handsome, how much you just fucking love him touching you, how much you enjoy him truly. You don’t want to enjoy him, you don’t want to need him, but it is a need, very much, a deep need from every part of you.

“Manwhore.” You say with a scowl, and he’s kissing you once more, biting your lower lip with sharp teeth, making you tremble as your hands now cling to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles move as he fingers your wetness.

“You’re no pure, innocent little thing, are you now?” He raises a brow, and you’re flushed. “How many times?”

You tense a bit, looking up at him. “Twice.”

He blinks now, pausing, his mouth open. “Only twice!?”

“How much did you think? Keep fingering me and shut up, mmm.” He listens to you thank god, this man talks so fucking much, fingering you once more, pressing on that little spongy spot inside you over and over, you’re gasping and crying out as he plays you so fucking perfect.

“I thought much more. No wonder you seemed so surprised when I flipped you over, took you from behind.” He whispers in your ear now, and you heat up at the memory, as he’s breathing in your ear, making shivers slip down your spine. “Did you get this wet for him?”

“No, you stupid man. Fuck you for that too.” He slips two inside of you now, pressing up over and over, your thighs trembling as you overheat now, desire pooling and bringing you closer and closer. “Mmm!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, the intensity of his stare with his pumping fingers in your slick cunt make you rise higher and higher. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful.”

“You don’t-”

“I do think so, I know so. Every bit of you.” He’s pressing in so deep you can’t take it, kissing down your throat now, your breasts, and your hands enwrap in his hair, as you crave more and more of him, as you lose yourself to it. You feel as if somehow you are yourself more with him than you could be with anyone, you didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ anymore.

“I shouldn’t want this so badly.” You whisper, pulling back, but he’s fucking into you with those fingers, drawing you closer and closer.

“Cum on my fingers, please. Let me watch you.” He murmurs, eyes lidded, and you do then, you fall apart, head falling back, nearly collapsing on his desk as you’re pulsing around his fingers. Your entire body lit up. “Fuck.”

“Mnh.” Satoru hungrily slides up your skirts then, bringing you to him, your thighs gripping his lithe hips, taking his two fingers now and putting them in your mouth.

“Suck yourself off, like a good little slut, would you?” You glare, biting him, and he chuckles even as he shakes his hand, exhaling and studying you so intensely. “You’re a vicious little thing.”

“Fuck you.” You yank him closer again however, and he’s slamming things off his desk, papers flying.

“Fuck you right here, huh? I want you in my bed.”

“We’ll get there. And my bed, I would like to burn yours.”

“Burn it hmm?”

“Indeed.” You slip off his dress shirt now, exhaling as you run fingers down his every muscle. “Your body is so…”

“So?”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s so beautiful.” He unlaces your bodice now, as you’re sitting on his desk, looking up at him, and he then begins to unlace your stays, letting your breasts bounce out for his eager eyes.

“Your body is so beautiful. I almost fainted like a schoolboy when you first showed me them.” You laugh a bit, and he tilts his head, caressing the sides of them with his fingers, your nipples grow taut, he watches as they tighten for him. “I’ve heard you laugh a lot tonight.”

“I used to laugh, you know. At times.”

“It lights up your face.” You can hardly stand how he speaks, so softly, you melt in front of him. “It lights up my heart.”

You gulp now, throat dry. “You have a heart, Duke Gojo?”

“Satoru. And yes.” He cups your breasts now, bending low, your hands entwine in his silky locks as he leans over you, pressed between your thighs, you feel him, so hard and hot. “It’s perhaps shattered in pieces, but seeing you laugh, smile? It feels as if perhaps I can piece some together. Not enough for you, but you’d have it all.”

“Oh shut up.” You can’t take it, his raw emotion, how easy it would be to dive into him, but fuck you need him, need him like your air, how does one make it so hard to breathe yet he’s all you want to breathe!?

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” Satoru murmurs now, gripping your thighs and pulling you against him, you feel his length pressing on you over his breeches, and you are wanton when you grind on him, soaking him.

“No.”

“Then never mind.” He pulls away and you glare.

“Get back here.”

“And do what?”

“Fuck me.” Duke Gojo moans then, rushing back, as you eagerly unbutton his pants, as you stroke his pretty cock that springs free, watching his pretty face contorted in pleasure.

“Promise me you’ll sit on my face later, and I will.”

“Oh fine, I will, just fuck- ah!” Satoru’s pressing on your entrance now, only the edge of your ass on his desk, as he’s sucking in a breath, feeling your wetness pulse around him. You almost come from his tip again, you barely hold it together, eyes rolling back when he sinks in more and more. “Mmm!”

“Fuck you’re so tight, oh my god.” Satoru’s words break in the middle as he gasps, sinking in so deep, leaning over you now, breathing heavy in little pants as he studies your face. “Pussy so good it makes men stupid.”

“You’re already- ah- stupid!” Satoru’s shoving hard in you now, glaring, and you can’t stop the cry as you feel him stroking in and out of your soppy little cunt now, his big hands gripping your thighs, your ass, anywhere he can reach, stretching you out so good. “Satoru.”

He’s pumping into you now, and you’re feeling so good you can’t remember a goddamn thing, just whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, Princess, you will forget anything I did.”

“Then do it, then do it. Please.” He slams his lips on yours, before flipping you over, unzipping your skirts and leaving you bare, stripping your chemise off you in one fell swoop, before he smacks your ass. You gasp. “Excuse you?”

“Someone should punish you for your mouth.” He whispers, lifting your tummy onto the desk so you’re at level, legs dangling as he presses them wide. “Fuck, this view…”

“What are you-” You’re cut off then, as Satoru is shoving his cock back inside, you grip the desk, but he takes your hands, pressing them behind your back and holding them, using them as leverage to fuck you harder. Your moans are so loud you’re sure the entire staff can hear, feeling so much pleasure it’s blinding.

“I always wanted to fuck you so hard your tiara clatters to the fucking floor.” He huffs then, slamming into your pussy and staying there, you’re shuddering as his tip drags along your walls.

“It’s… not… I… mmm!” You’re getting fucked so good, Satoru hits so deep you can’t take it, your walls are fluttering, tightening.

“Feel you clenching around me like that, holy… fuck…” He’s smacking your ass again, stinging your cheeks, but it just makes you wetter, as does his hand pulling your hair back now, body arched into an S curve just for him. “Did he fuck you this good, your silly baker?”

“Did they feel this good, your mistresses?” You counter with a whisper, and he laughs, before groaning.

“Fuck no. No one ever has.” You hate that you enjoy hearing it so much, but you do, you love that he’s owning you, fucking into you, so big compared to you, you feel so tiny and helpless, and it’s just urging you on. “No one could feel this good.”

“Mnh…”

“So good I’d cum in you, have you round with my child.”

“Satoru!”

“I would if you wanted, fuck you’d be so sexy, cum pouring our of your little hole, mmm. I’d lick it up out of you, spit it in your mouth.”

The fuck the man is some demon, all he does is urge you on with his words, his hands, his cock until - “Satoru- cumming!”

“Good girl, good girl. Cum all over me.” He urges then, his hands letting your arms go, one wrapping around your waist, finding your clit, just pushing you further, until you’re a writhing mess, wetness gushing everywhere. “There you go, so good for me, dripping all over, aren’t you?”

“Ngh.” You cannot manage anymore words, not when he fills you with the most lewd images, not when he fills you with his cock, stuffed so deep you feel the weeping tip kissing your cervix. Satoru’s fingers rub in tantalizing circles over your clit, which twitches in response, you get so weak you lay forward on the desk, legs shaking.

“Can’t hold yourself up, are you so weak, Princess?” He whispers, menacingly, fuck him, fuck Duke Gojo- “F-fuck… oh my… you like that, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Satoru.” He laughs softly, before gasping, now hovering over you, one hand braced against the desk, the other tilting your face to the side.

“So good you’re crying?”

“C-crying because… you’re… pissing… me… off! Just shut up and- ah!” Satoru slams hard into you now, a hand around your neck, and you are arching your ass for more and more of him.

“I want to cum in you so bad, fill you up. Fuck you make me stupid.”

“You already are, remem- mmm!”

“Bratty girl.” He huffs, smacking your ass again, harder now, before gripping it, pressing your face down on his desk. “Arch that ass up, Princess.”

You weakly obey, as he’s pressing your head against the cool wood of the desk, and you’re arched up for him, for his smacks, for his thrusts. You feel drool pooling out the side of your mouth he fucks you so good, slamming into you with each thrust, hand clutching in your hair tightly. You’re getting fucked so good you can’t form a thought, except-

“More.” You plead, Satoru groans at that, obeying you, fucking you harder, faster, deeper, until you’re climaxing so hard you can scarcely breathe, shattering and twitching, pussy gripping him so tightly, you feel him everywhere. You feel him splitting you in two, filling you so good you can’t stand it.

“Cum again.” He orders, through gritted teeth, bending low over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, slowing his thrusts now, swiping the drool from your lips, kissing the tears falling on your cheek. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm. Why do I believe- ah- you.” You whisper, when he’s pulling you up, turning you now, lifting you back on the desk, to look at you intensely, his swirling blue eyes like a storm in the evening, so hard to even look at, yet you’re drowning in them.

“You are the most beautiful thing that exists.” He is gentle suddenly, which throws you more off kilter, your cunt sucks him back in, as he’s holding onto you, kissing you, tongues so messy and slow, leisurely, like he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You cling to his shoulders, shaking everywhere, closer and closer. “Perfect for me, made for me.”

“Shh.” You can’t handle him, falling deeper for him every moment he breathes, wishing you could hate him more, wishing you could remember at the moment how horrible he’d been, but you feel his heat, his energy, his length… his touch, and it breaks down every defense you’ve ever had.

“Love being inside of you.” He says then, pulling your hips up to grind on your cervix now, eyes drinking you in, you’re stretched so good, you feel him thicken inside, feel his every movement, as you’re soaking him, soaking so much you drip to the floor. “Love watching you.”

“I love you inside me.” You can’t hold it in, and he gasps, pausing just to look a you, your cunt is spasming around him, your head falling back weakly.

“You love it?”

“I love it, Satoru…” He kisses you again, grinding until you cum so hard you can’t breathe, gasping and clinging to him so tightly, nails digging into the taut skin of his back, burying your face in his chest as he moans, slowing his strokes.

“There it is. Good girl.”

“Don’t say that. Mnh, I’m dumb enough.” You kiss up his chest, his neck, as his hands take over your little waist, his eyes drinking you in, kissing your cheeks, your face, it’s far too intimate, it’s too much, overwhelming you, while you’re a mess around him.

“Where do you… want me to… m’close, fuck.” He whispers, and you struggle to form a coherent thought, as your inner thighs tighten around his hips, whining out at how good he feels inside your walls.

“Let me swallow you.” You whisper, and his mouth drops.

“Oh you’re such a freak, I love it.” He pumps in you harder before pulling back, and pulling you down. “On your knees, pretty.”

You eagerly get on them, looking up at him, he is stroking his slick length, you smack his hand, doing it yourself, the pearls of your ring glowing. Satoru’s free hand strokes your hair, his head falling back when you stroke him, opening your mouth. He lets out this sexy little whine when his tip hits your tongue, and you taste yourself on him as you suck him deeper.

“Oh my… slutty princess.” He whispers, but you love it, love throbbing and aching from him, love being on your knees, as he caresses your face, shoving his cock into your mouth. “F-fuck, you sure you can swallow it all?”

“Shut up and cum, Satoru.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, and he follows your order, gasping as he cums in your mouth now, and cums so much, you swallow every bit of him up, fuck he’s so sweet, like those candies he sucks on.

You gulp down every bit, hot and sticky and pulsing down your throat, as he keeps fucking your mouth through it, more and more little spurts of cum, you greedily suck him clean, cheeks hollowing. He’s whispering a mantra of how beautiful you are, how good you are, a mess over you.

“Open up, lemme see.” You open your mouth now, tongue out, and he groans, helping you stand, gripping your chin. “Want to swallow more of me, Princess?”

You nod nervously, and he leans over you now, spitting in your mouth, gripping your chin so possessively as the stream of saliva streams. You swallow it as well, opening your mouth for his inspection, and he’s kissing you again, tongue devouring you, picking your naked body up in his arms.

“God you’re so good. Do you even know, what you look like with that mouth open wide, with those pretty eyes fucked out?” He’s kissing you over and over, and soon he’s changed how he’s holding you, bridal style. You’re shaking then, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Don’t hold me like this.” You say softly, and he shakes his head, kissing you as he carries you effortlessly.

“I should have, that night. Weigh nothing, little slip of a girl. I was wrong. So bloody wrong, about it all. Now let me do everything I have dreamed of, while I have  you here.” You’re crying then, as he carries you into your room.

“You listened.” You whisper, and he’s nodding, gently laying you down on your back, leaning on top of you, hovering just so, drinking you in.

“We’ll burn that bed if you wish. I’ll do anything to keep you happy, to keep you smiling, keep you cumming.” His hands trail down your tummy, it trembles under his touch.

“I’ve already cum too much. I cannot do more, insane man.” He smiles softly then, touching you everywhere, you’re so sensitive you can’t stand it. “Perhaps after some rest, I’m sore.”

He laughs softly, nodding then. “So, may I rest here with you?”

You gulp then, biting your lower lip. “You want to lay in bed?”

“Of course I do. I yearn to hold you every night.” You shut your eyes while he strokes your arms gently, then your waist. “You will send me away, had your way with my cock and send me off like a mistress.”

“Oh stop that, silly man.” You look up at him, grinning so big against your will, and his breath catches. “What is it?”

“Every time you smile like that, it’s like you grip me here.” He puts your hand on his bare chest now, and you sigh, tracing your fingers along one of his well formed pectoral muscles.

“I want to trust this, believe this, but I’m fucking terrified. What if I let you in, and you fully destroy me?” You whisper, unable to stop your tears, Satoru’s eyes shut, he rests his head on yours.

“I know you’re scared. I can give you time. I’m doing too much-”

“No, I want it all. All of this.” You lean up now, kissing him through your tears, over and over, you’re a tangle of limbs on the bed now, he’s pulling you even closer against him, a thigh between yours, pressing up.

“I want all of you. Every bit of you.” He says huskily. “I’d let you do anything, if you just come back to me.”

“Satoru I only want you, so much so I… I thought of you when…”

“I thought of you too. About how it’d feel tighter, wetter.” You whine out when he’s shoving two fingers in your sore little entrance now, your head falling back, exposing your throat for his kisses, his bites. “Pictured that beautiful face of yours, saw you in my every dream.”

“You took over my dreams.” He moans now, slamming his lips back to yours, and you feel yourself falling further and further into the abyss that is him, into his every touch, every look, every sound he makes. You feel him wrapping you up, and you never want to escape.

“You dreamt of me?” He asks, you see him so vulnerable again, and now that you know his past, you realize how hard it must be. You cup his face gently.

“Over and over, against my will. If I dreamt of someone, your face would take over, annoying me to no end.” He grins then, pecking a kiss on your breasts now, looking up through his long white lashes.

“My dreams were not annoying.”

“Well you annoy me, so. Vex me to no end.”

“Do I? Or are you vexed that you enjoy me?” He teases, earning you rolling your eyes at him, then he’s back to fingering you, and you forget everything, as he’s pumping in and out of you, and you’re dripping everywhere, embarrassingly. “You get wetter than anyone, I swear.”

“It’s annoying too.”

“Is it now? Hear yourself.” You do then, hear the squishing, you’re blushing so furiously, and you’re feeling him hard again, right on your thigh. “Did you get your rest now?”

“I haven’t- ah - rested!” He’s running his thumb on your clit, you’re arching up for more and more of him, lost in him, in his blue eyes that kill you.

“You rode that horse so well.” He pulls you then, on his chest, grinning up at you deviously, and you’re trembling.

“I can’t sit on your face!”

“You sure can, Princess, look, there you are.” He’s gripping the plush of your inner thighs, and you’re straddling his pretty face, he moans when he looks at your pussy, licking his lips. “Is this my dessert?”

“Oh you’re insane! What if I crush you!?” You’re holding yourself up by the headboard, shaking as he laughs against you, breath tickling your pussy, making more wetness trickle down.

“You cannot crush me, foolish girl. Please, ride my face, as much as you want, you can shut me up fully.” You can’t take his sexy eyes, his beautiful lips, as you’re hesitantly easing down on him, your pussy hovering right above his face.

“If you can’t breathe will you tap me or something!?”

He laughs softly. “You will not hurt me, little Princess. Now, c’mere.” He yanks you down now, burying his face against you, you gasp, back arching, you’re clinging to his silky hair, trying to balance yourself. Your stomach tightens as he’s lapping you up, fucking you with his tongue, nose hitting your swollen nub.

“Toru!” You scream out, and he backs away then, eyes hitting yours, flicking his tongue along your slit, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“What now?” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip nervously.

“Um, it came out that way?” You whisper, he smiles then, lashes lowering, pressing a kiss on your pussy lips gently.

“I like it. Now, ride me, pull my hair all you want. Use me.”

“Fuck.” Why is this duke so stupidly attractive!?

You begin to do just that, and he’s moaning as you do, as you’re rolling your hips on his perfect features, soaking him completely, you are gasping in pleasure as his hot, wet muscle devours you. He’s licking between your lips, hitting every bit of you, and you’re even wetter, so wet you watch it drip down his face, until it’s shimmering with you, and then he’s pushing you even further down onto him.

His face is buried against you, his cock thick and hard, twitching, pre cum oozing out of the tip as he tastes you, bucking his own hips up. You feel the tension coiling in your tummy as he keeps licking and sucking, finally pulling your little clit in his hot mouth, sucking and looking up at you with those gorgeous, dilated fucking eyes, and you fall apart then.

You’re cumming all over him, gushing wetness all over him, feeling your body engulf in his flames, taking over you from head to toe, toes that are curling, your mouth open in a scream, hoarse as you roll your hips one more time. Your eyes lock on his, and he’s looking so adoringly at you, as he finally takes a breath, flicking his tongue over you once more, watching you shatter for him.

“Oh my god, Satoru… can’t take anymore.” You whimper weakly, only for him to pull you off his face, sliding you on his lap, slamming his lips on yours, as he grinds you against his length. “Satoru…”

“I liked Toru.” He teases with a smile, then moans as his tip bumps your clit, and you’re covering his cock with even more arousal, sticky and hot. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing, would you believe I haven’t done it?”

“No you’re a whore.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, sitting up as you grind yourself on his cock now, whining softly at how good it feels, clinging to his shoulders.

“I have not done that, no. God I want to always have you on my lips.” He says, husky, kissing you over and over, your tongues swapping your taste, and then he’s lifting you, easing you back down his cock, you’re weak as he does, eyes going wide now. “Ride me, love.”

“Don’t call me love, ugh. Liar.” You whisper weakly, he shakes his head, kissing down your breasts, as you take more of him, inch by inch, sore legs from riding struggling to roll more on his cock, eliciting his moans.

“I did not lie today. I fall deeper for you.” He cups your face now, as he snaps his hips up into your tight cunt, and you shake your head, tears of how good he feels pricking your eyes, making you choke up. “I do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are.” You giggle again, softly, pressing him down on his back then, your hair falling against his chest like a curtain.

“You want me to fuck you?” He nods eagerly, grabbing your ass, as you brace yourself on him, and he’s moaning, looking at your body, how your breasts sway when you start riding his cock in earnest. “So deep!”

“You’re gorgeous like this, fuck.” He’s enamored, his hands everywhere he can touch, as he lets you control everything, just urging you on here and there, watching you eagerly. “You are doing such a good job.”

“Stop saying the right thing.” He bucks his hips up with a glare, fucking up into you then, and you’re clinging to him desperately, breasts in his face now, he’s eagerly sucking them into his mouth.

“I should shut this bratty mouth up. I’m trying to be sweet, but you’re a freaky little brat.”

“Me freaky!?”

“Yes you. C’mere now.” He’s got you laying on him, his feet flattening on the bed, and now he’s fucking up into you, making you drip down his stomach, everywhere, your mouths devouring each other again. He’s desperate in his kisses, in his thrusts, and you feel yourself impossibly higher, as you’re helpless on top of him, just letting him use you so good.

“S’Toru…” He moans again, lifting your ass up with his big hands like it’s nothing, slamming you down his length so hard your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back.

“How can you feel this perfect? You’re made f’me, fucking say it.”

“N-no!”

“Say it, Princess. Just say it.”

“No!” He smacks your ass now, and you weakly cling to him, just wetter now, pussy so sore and stretched by him, but fuck you want it, you want all of Satoru, the Duke Gojo under you.

“Made for me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, you shake your head. “Stubborn, you’re so stubborn. Every inch of your little body is mine.”

“It’s not. Fuck you. Mmm!” He’s biting your throat now, grinding his hips so that his cock’s tip presses on your cervix, then your orgasm hits so hard you can hardly rememeber a thing. You can hardly keep to this timeline, to anything, all you can cling to is Satoru.

“Made for me. Say it.” He smacks you again, and you just cry out softly, weak and unable to move or hold yourself up. He flips you onto your back, hands entwining with yours, so intimate you can’t stand it, you feel like you can’t breathe when he’s laying on top, staring at you.

“Satoru…”

“Say it. That she’s made for me. Don’t I make her feel so good?” He whispers, rolling his hips again, and you moan, nodding. “Say it.”

“Made for you.” Your words are a breathy sigh, but Satoru is moaning, kissing you so deeply, one hand entwined in yours, the other gripping your hair tightly, pulling at it as he moves over you gently.

“I want you to be mine. All mine.” He says against your ear now, kissing it, biting it, and you’re senseless under him, anything you had left to fight is gone. “God I love everything about you.”

“Satoru!”

“I want to breed your pretty pussy so bad, fuck. How can you make me this way, fucking witchcraft.” He’s babbling nonsensically as he pumps, and you see his pupils are pinpoints, his eyes bright and insane. “How will I ever get over you!?”

“Just… just… feel me. Feel me. I feel you.” Your free hand touches his heart, emotions so deep as you look into his eyes you can’t handle it, you cannot take how much you are falling, it’s a neverending abyss, Satoru Gojo, you’re exhausted from holding it all back. “I just want you.”

“I just want you.” He whispers back, and then you’re so overstimulated every breath brings you higher, his hips are gently stroking, rolling, you’re reaching up for him, for more, drinking in every bit of him. “Never want this to end, fuck. Don’t even wanna cum.” His words are against your collarbone as he’s nipping, biting, declaring things that make your heart falter.

Can you trust him?

Fuck you want to.

“Would I get pregnant if you…”

His eyes go wide now. “Possibly.”

“Then you can’t…”

“Then I can’t…” He presses a hand on your stomach, leaning up and exhaling. “Not until you decide.”

“I want you to, though.” He groans at your insane confession. “Don’t… but I do… want it…”

“Fuck.” He fucks you hard for a moment, chasing his release, clinging to you desperately, then he pulls back. “Can I cum on it?”

“Will that be okay?” You ask, he nods, and you bite your lip. “You can.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t deserve any of this.” He exhales then, pulling out, stroking his cock, and hot white ropes shoot out, hitting the outer lips of your pussy, he’s moaning as he watches it, and you’re so flushed and flustered, at how lewd it looks. His hot sticky cum all over your pussy. “Oh my god look at you.”

“It’s obscene.” You say, and he laughs then, breathless, all sweaty and glistening, cupping your chin and tilting it up.

“The obscene things I want to do to your pretty body have barely began.”

“Barely began!?”

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute!”

“Mmm. Cute and slutty looking at the same time.” He fingers the sticky substance, all out of breath as you are. “I made you a mess. Shall I clean you, Princess?”

“Why do you seem so devious!? I… Satoru!” He’s lapping up his own cum off your pussy, and then he’s leaning over you, prying your mouth open with two fingers, spitting his cum inside your mouth. You gasp as he does, only serving to make your sore pussy throb with more need.

“You’re so sexy, fuck.” He whispers, as you swallow him all up.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. A fiend.” He smirks, but you’re reaching down, playing with it yourself, sucking him off your fingers.

“Fuck I can’t get enough of you. You too sore?”

“Yes too sore, insane man.” You kiss him again, as both of your fluids are mixing with your saliva, dripping between you both. “I’m exhausted now.”

“Let me sleep with you, please.” He pouts, as if he hadn’t just spit his cum in your mouth, like some innocent puppy.

“Oh fine, but let’s actually clean up. And you’re making me tea.”

“I don’t know how to make fucking tea!”

“You put the kettle on!?”

“What the fuck is a kettle? I’ll fetch a servant.”

“No, you make me tea, or no sleeping in my bedchambers.” He scowls, and you glare now.

“You’re cruel and evil, I made you cum countless times, and demanding more shit from me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine, you teach me.” He cleans you up properly with a washcloth, then he’s dressing you in one of your night wrappers, a pretty soft pale blue, which he ties carefully in the front. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You say, and he grins.

“Finally, no arguments?”

“None for the moment. Now, tea.” You drag him by his hand, and he follows you through the halls, you see several of the servants smiling and grinning, even your nan smiles softly as you two enter the kitchen. “Nan, fetch some tea please, I need to show this grown man how to make some.”

“I’ve always had a staff.” He huffs, and your Nan laughs softly, coming with a kettle and several pouches.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my sweet girl. Your grace.” She curtsies a bit, still giving Satoru the eye, and he sighs as she walks out.

“She wants to kill me.”

“You blame her? She had to see a lot no one else did.” It grows a little serious now, as you prepare the water, setting it in the kettle and firing it up. You look back at him as it begins to steam. “I do not say that to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s just… I cannot imagine what you went through because of me.” You hug him then, letting him sway you side to side, drinking in his presence, letting it soak into your bones, your being. “You told me to make it.”

“You can pour the water.” He snorts at that, changing the tense subject, but as he caresses your cheek, you can tell his actions weigh on him. Finally you set the bags of pretty herbs into two cups. “Let’s see a high pour.”

“A what now?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Pour high, Satoru.”

He pours the hot, steamy water on top of the tea bags, and you both sit down at one of the servant tables, your pussy and ass so sore you wince. He grins. “Sore, huh Princess?”

“Oh do you ever shut that mouth, Satoru!?”

“When you rode my-”

“Hush, now, sip.” He blows on the steaming liquid, lips that had drank your cries, lips that did obscene things, his long fingers holding the delicate little handle of the teacup, you can barely control how much you desire him, everything about him. 

“There, I made you tea, bratty girl. You’ll lay with me.” He huffs, and then snatches you up, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh fine, if you snore I shall kick you right out, you can lay in your whore bed.”

“My whore bed, hmm?”

“Mmhmm! Oh, we have a ball to go to tomorrow, I nearly forgot with all we’ve been doing in town.”

“Imagine a ball where we don’t hate each other.”

“Who says I don’t.” He smiles then, shaking his head, kissing your cheek softly, hand running down your back. “A little less though.”

“I’ll take a little less. Did you enjoy cooking so much to get away from your mother I wonder?”

“That is how it started. Ugh, she’ll be there. Back to the corset.”

“Fuck no.” He grips your little waist then, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “You’ll wear no corset, you can wear those stays, so I can see more of your pretty form.”

“Satoru…” He hums then, as you sip your tea, setting it down with a click, wrapping your arms around him. “Fuck it. I’m very happy.”

“I’m so happy with you. Like this with me.” He kisses your chest softly, where your heart races for him, snowy white hair tickling you as it falls.

“I’m scared though.”

“I know. I will keep proving to you that I can be worthy, I swear it.” He declares, eyes looking up at you, and you believe him, you really do.

Maybe you’re a fool but you feel his sincerity.

“Let us sleep, Satoru, and no more funny business. I’m sore.”

“In the morning though?”

“Satoru!” He is laughing, picking you up in his arms again, and fuck it feels good to be held like this. You’re so terrified something will happen, to ruin this, something outside of you and Satoru, so scared it gnaws at you, but it’s eased when you’re later in his arms, under your thick blankets, and he’s holding you.

Satoru Gojo, your husband, spends the first night in bed with you, after nearly a month of marriage.

You fall asleep easily for the first time since you got here.

Part Eleven

[ladyoftheblades]

her heart his duty

gwayne hightower x reader

synopsis: gwayne did not oft travel to court but a visit to his sister was long overdue and young daeron was to join him as a ward at oldtown soon enough. yet when he arrived he found more interest in a young silver haired girl, the kings very own daughter, his sisters stepdaughter.

warnings: smut, dry humping, masturbation, vouyerism, corruption kink, religious guilt, agegap relationship, intoxication, unrealistic fainting, step incest (?)(uncle step niece)

a/n: i had to tweak some things bc gwayne was a little (a lot) ooc originally, thus i gave him religious guilt. also ive been reading laughter in the dark so i think it influenced me. ENGLISH IN NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE i am also dyslexic.

three moons it took to travel from oldtown to kings landing. three months of ridiculus talks and gossips from his supposed to be profesional fellow knights, subpar meals at inns and dingy taverns and horseback rides from dawn to dusk, gwayne had had enough. the gates of the red keep resembled those of the heavens.

his thighs were raw and scaffed from the saddle, his back drenched from the summer heat. the reception to their arrival was at the very least nice. his sister stood on the courtyard, looking the vision of a queen, though they had not grown up together he loved her with his whole heart. he knew the hardships she faced at court were nothing compared to his. a small gaggle of silver haired children were situated around her, two boys on one side, aegon and aemond he mused on the other an absent minded girl and a small boy clutching her skirts, helaena and little daeron. he had once mission: spend some time with the young prince, train him, make him feel comfortable enough to leave home with him and get out.

he dismounted and stood infront of his family. "welcome brother" said his sister. he took her hand into hers and kissed it. "sister, how youve grown" she gave him a warm smile. "allow me to introduce you, this is aegon"

the boy looked bored and his bloodshot eyes as hell as the purple stain in his tunicsleeve told him he was intoxicated as well. aegon only gave a small nod. his mother gave him a scornfull look but said nothing. "next to him is aemond"

"welcome uncle" "it is good to meet you my prince"

"this is my daughter, helaena" continued alicent. the girl gave a curtsy, he gave her a warm smile, she was the spitting image of her mother at this age. "and finally, this is little daeron" the boy only clutched his mothers skirts harder, hiding his face partially behind the dress. gwayne crouched down to be at eye level with his nephew.

"hello, young prince" his hand went to his pocket and pulled out a small hankerchief. he pulled the hankerchief appart to reveal a small wooden dragon. "this, i brough for you especially. it was given to me by mine own uncle, now i pass it to you"

the boy eyes lit up with curiosity, the toy an enticing offer, coaxing him out of his little hiding place. his hands left the fabric and reached out to get the toy, examining it with his hands, a smile tugging at his mouth. "what do we say, daeron ?" said his mother. "thank you uncle gwayne"

gwayne smilled and rose to his feet. "trot along now, i shall see ypu this eve for training, do you enjoy archery, young prince ?" he added. daeron nodded, eyes still trained on his b rand new toy. "very good then, i shall see you soon" and with that the siblings each went their respective way.

gwayne took a moment to study the courtyard, knights walked left and right, some stewards attended to their horses, further back toward the gardens sat a few ladies sat gossiping. as he studied the area, a curious figure caught his eye. a young girl, silver haired and wearing traditional targaryen red, stood behind a wall, her body was somewhat hidden, but her head poked out in curiosity, revealing long silver locks, traditional to the house targaryen. he studied her form from bottom to top, reaching her face. cute, he thought, when he searched to look at her eyes, he found them looking back at him. but they did not stay that way long for the second she realised her curiosity was returned, they widened and she diapeared behind the wall at once.

"is something the matter, brother ?" his sister said, noting his prolonged silence. he returned to his sister "has a silver cat in the shape of a lady made home at the keep or is perhaps another daughter you have hidden from me ?"

his sister gave him another smile "no brother, i believe you saw my step-daughter" gwaynes face twisted into one of confusion. "the princess rhaenyra ?"

"no brother, the younger. she is not half bad, nothing like her sister anyway, she is quite shy especially with strangers. you may not see her at all in the time you spend here." his expression softened, still curious but now moreso.... intrigued.

"come, let me show you to your rooms, you must be exhausted" alicent continued, interlocking her arms begining to pave their way to the guest chambers. they reared the wall behind which the princess had disapeared, excpecting to see her eunning along to avoid him but she was nowhere to be found. how could one diapear so swiftly ?

his chambers were plain, nothing like the ones at oldtown, he was not spoiled but being son and heir to one of the wealthiest houses of the realm grew him accustomed to a certain standard of luxury. they were also exceptionally dull. his training session with daeron had a while to come yet, and thus he decited to visit the so famed library of the red keep. he walked the halls and arrived to the room, excpecting it to empty,most of the lords and ladies preocupied with the official hightower visit.

he oppened the heavy mahogany doors, stepping in cautiously. the room was as excpected, quiet and empty. almost. in front of him, to the other side of the room, sat a small sette near the fireplace. that was no unordinarity, the odd thing, was the oppen book gracing the table, the small blancet hastily disgarded to the side of the armchair and the haphazardly thrown around pillows. clear signs someone was occupying the space. he only knew of one person who would vanish at the sight of a stranger.

he looked around the room, taking note of any further evidence to suggest human activity. and there it was, a hankerchief to the right of the sette. his gaze scanned the shelves nearby the misplaced cloth, and surely, he could make out a form two bookcases back. he smirked to himself, he would coax the girl out whether she liked it or not.

he took a cautious step forth, silently traversing the room, he walked to the sette and picked up the dicarded hancerchief. the figure had not moved from its hiding place. he walked further, amongst the bookcases, pretending to browse the books. when he got close to the form, it began to run, he gave chase, swiftly turning the corner, now faced with the back of the young maiden. "princess"

she stopped, body clearly tense, hands in tight fists next to her body. tenatively she turned around. he could now marvel at her beauty. truly marvel at her features. her face was flushed, red from embarassment, contrasting yet complimenting her mesmerising violet eyes and silver valyrian hair. she was truly, stunning, surely the most comely maiden he had lay eyes upon. "sir gwayne hightower, i do believe" she said, voice coming out close to a whisper, the nerves behind it unmasked to his ears.

"in the flesh..." he continued, eyes studying her form like a predator seizing up pray. "i do believe, you dropped this" he said, raising the hankerchief up to eye level. her hand moved slowly, twitching with nerves and ever so cautiously, to take it, but he pulled his hand back, tucking the piece of fabric in his pocket instead. "wh-why did you um.. i mean, what should you want with a silly hankerchief, ser ?" he gave her a smile mischievy lacing his expression, darkening his blue eyes.

"such an elusive lady you are, and such an intriguing one at that. i cannot give up the one thing tying us together, i should not like to see you run from me... again" she gave a breathy chuckle, uneasiness evident in both the sound and the way her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. "please, i do not wish to interrupt your studying, allow me keep you company" he extended his hand to hers again, she looked to it in fear, yet accepted it anyway. he raised it to his face, eyes never leaving hers, full of lust, and kissed it. her eyes were wide, violet brought out her embarasment, ckeeks somehow even more flushed. he tugged her forth, and moved to take her back to the settee. they walked and sat across eachother in silence.

he looked to the princess, who nervously sat and fiddled with her book, her eyes trained to it, trained to anywhere but him really, as if seeing him would lead to her doom. "what are you studying, my princess ?" she swallowed hard. "umm well, it is no interesting thing not really atleast-"

"anything that holds your attention is a worthwile read i would venture" she sucked in a hurried breath, her expression changing from complete fear, to fear still but now with a mix of excitement.

"oh, it is- it is written by a braavosi traveler, an account of his relationship with the lysenian lady allara"

"a love story then ?" he said, mischeivus smile returning, eyes reflecting a glint from the sun making her chest flush with emotion. "well, yes, a tragedy ore like to be honest "

"how so ?" "well thy were um seperated, by circumstances, you know as it happens usually,they were of different social standing and she was kept away most her life and h-had no real connection with the world so believed his promises of adventure to be void, eventually they were discovered but all was well in the end, as well as it could atleast and-"

she stopped speaking suddently, realising how she had rambled and looked up, meeting gwaynes eyes, excpecting to find disgust or boredom or even fury but none of that were present. he only looked to her in admiration, in intigue. still shame ran hot in her veins, the emotion almost tied to her name, "oh i- apologise, ser, i have incoherently rambled on" she apologised.

"no apology secessary my princess, i find your passion... quite amusing." she swallowed hard at his words, unacustomed to such attention, any attention from a stranger. "do you find yourself in the lady ?" continued gwayne.

"oh, well, i guess i do" she spoke in a single breath. "have you any romantic endeavors with braavosi travellers, my princess ? is this your confession ?" he teased. her eyes widened once again, shifting her position and shaking her head rapidly. "oh no, ofcourse not, how could i even find one such man in this castle"

he gave a saccharine smile, eating away at the princesses defences simultaniously firing up her shame. "do you feel deprived of adventure, then, as the princess in the story did ?" his hand on the table moved, slowly reaching hers. she failed to notice it, too focused on keeping her breathing elevated and not bursting in flame from shame. when his skin brushed against her knuckle she twitched, pulling her hand away, but it was too late. his hand moved swiftly, taking her delicate hand into his calous one, he could not help but notice just how smaller it was, his palm covering it in its entirety.

the contact sent waves of nerves through her body, but something about his warm toutch, something about his smooth movements, the way he caressed her knuckles along with his questions, the interest he showed to her oppinion, it stirred something in her. not just her chest, in her stomach... lower. the feeling was nice but its unfamiliarity alarmed her.

it was true, much like the lady in her book she had minimal contact with the outside world. most she had was the occasional trip on her dragon to her cousin laena and uncle daemon in pentos or the ones to dragonstone with her sister rhaenyra. if she was lucky and the queen was in good spirits, she would allow her to acompany her to the sept, where she caught shoert glimpses st the vibrant city of kings landing. but, as stated before, all of those were quite rare. most of the time she had to content herself with overhearing stories from viting lords, ever too shy to even approach them and ask questions.

"i should say... yes. i do not have many opportunities to exit the walls of the keep." he gave a hum, never taking his eyes off of hers. "should you like to ?"

she was still aprehensive of the man before her, but his words were so sweet. her head was a battlefield, shyness and intrigue kicking up a storm. "i should, yet i fail to see how it would be possible"

"perhaps...with the right company" he teased yet again. shyness, even caution of strangers failed to prevail in the face of promise of adventure. "do you fancy yourself the right company, ser gwayne ?"

he smiled, now genuine and true, showing his pearly teeth. "mayhaps we ought to find out, if you would have me" the air around them shifted, falling into a comfortable silence. they stared into eachothers eyes, blue into violet, sparks threatening to blaze into fire.

alas, their time had to come to an end. gwayne broke eye contact, looking to the window, the hour of his duty was drawing closse. he looked back to the princess, whose gaze had shifted to the book again. "earlier, in the courtyart, upon my arrival, i caught you looking at me"

she oppened her mouth to speak but no words came out, instead her lips formed a little 'o' shape, small breaths escaping. very kissable, he thought. "have i exposed your secret ? is secretly staring at people from a distance a habit of yours or something you reserved just for me ?" she did not move, neither did her mouth, a stone statue, the only semblance of life in her was the blush on her nose. he chuckled, what an intiguing girl he had infront of him. "tis alright, do not tell me, i should like to keep mine own belief, even in delusion"

he slowly rose from his seat, not removing his hand from hers but instead draging it along her arm, slowly, teasingly. through her palm, to her wrist, her sleeve, a snake of temptation, slithering and dragging ints sin, seeping into her skin in its wake. she tensed once again, the shocks from the contact causing her to revert to her demure demeanor. he positioned himself behind her, hand from her shoulder opting instead to play with her hair.

the way the silver of her locks caught the light of the afternoon sun left him mesmerised, the way her shoulders tensed and hunched forward, hurried trembling breaths audible to his ears even moreso. he leaned down, tucking her hair behind her ear and brought his lips to whisper "i shall see you soon, my princess. untill then, i have your little gift to keep me company"

his hot breath on her flesh sent shockwaves to her core, the promise of a randevouz exciting her so. what was this stranger doing to her ? she could not sit and enjoy the feeling of his body close to hers for long though, as he abruptly pulled back. leving the room, leaving her dumbfounded, sitting and staring still hot in her stomach.

training with daeron proved more enjoyable than he had excpected. the boy was witty once he had shaken off his fear, gwayne found himself growing fonder of the boy by the minute. when he was pulled away by his mother to be put to bed, he descited to acompany them, telling himself it was to make his mission succeed, but deep down he knew he wished to spend some more time with his nephew. before he was put to bed for the night, the little prince gave him a big hug which warmed his heart.

time with his nephew was a welcome distraction but the moment the boys chamberdoors closed his mind flew elsewere. the night drew close, soon twilight would be succeded by the dark of night, with it, the fould city of kings landing would come alive in all its debauchery. he wondered if he could approach the princess, if he could help her get a taste of adventure she so desired. the more he thought of her wide eyes the more antsy he grew to see them again. she was all innocence, asking of him to whisk her away, to show her the truth of the world, to corrupt her. he loved and hated it. those were no thoughts of a knight nor of a hightower.

he was a good man, faithfull, devout, the image of chivalry, his name a shining example to every knight in all the reach. many a lady had tried to tempt him, young girls no doubt urged by their ambitious fathers to join the house hightower, others rebelling against the chains of their duty, but he had alwasy shot them down, he knew better. he had had his fair share of indulgences as well, brothels were a booming buisness, even in oldtown after all. but he had the reigns of his desire, never going over board, always in mind of his faith. but this girl... this girl was something. she was young, innocent and the way he had treated her, like a plaything, teasing her in the library, it surprised even himself. he thought back t the words whispered by the lords of the reach, targaryens are closer to gods than men, and found them to ring true. his actions today were not in line with his faith, it made his stomach twist in shame, but he knew, he knew, if the princess asked, he would worship at the altar of her beauty, the seven be damned.

he thought if only he could see her again, if only. the way she had spoken about her books, with such passion, such longing, he wished for nothing but to take her in his arms and show her the world. alas he had no way to approach her. the young maiden was kept under lock-and-key, if the king or worse the princess rhaenyra were to learn of an attempt to tempt her it would surely mean his beheading.

he walked along the halls of maegors holdfast, fully intending to simply get back to his rooms, satisfy his craving for the princess in private and try to approach her again, like a gentleman, in light of the new day. but as he walked, he passed a certain family members chambers, his eldest nephew aegons. he knew some of the princes endeavours, the queens letters oft complaining of her inability to exscersise control over the boy. from oldtown, he though his sister might be reacting dramatically to a simple exertion of youth, this mornings meeting whith aegon told him his sisters words spoke the truth.

gwayne truly meant not to encourage such foul behaviour but... if anyone knew how to slip through the walls of the keep unoticed, it had to be the prince.

a knock sounded at the princesses chambers. given she had had no time to even remove her day clothes, she thought it to be her maids, arriving to prepare her for bed "come in"

the door opened, yet the face of the servant who stepped inside was unfamiliar to her. in his hands he held a silver tray, atop it a pece of paper along with a gray woolen fabric. the servaint said nothing, simply bringing the tray to her, and exiting with a bow.

curiosity killed the cat, she knew it well, the words of gwayne about her peering at him only this morning passing through her mind for a moment. but she was a curious alright, this occurance stirred up that emotion more than anything in her dull life had before. she took the letter upon her hands and oppened it.

to my silver haired cat, if the words you spoke to me ring true, take the path inscribed below at the hour of the eel, not a moment earlier not a moment later. make sure to wear my gift, it is not much but will prove usefull on our adventure. if not, i shall hold onto your hankerchief untill you change your mind. - ser gwayne

she began to kich her feet back and forth, mouth curling into a smile. he was asking a lot of her,sneaking out of the keep and he was, after all, a stranger. he was a man with no obligation to keep her safe, a man she knew naught about, except for the fact he found her intriguing. he found her interesting, he enjoyed her passion for adventure and was holding in his hand all she dreamed of, promising to grant it to her if only she should trust him. he would wait for her, today, tomorrow, so long as it took for her to be ready. how could she not answer his call ?

she swallowed down her nerves, doing her best to not let them trump her need for adventure. she took the cloak in her hands, it was large, large enough to hide her form and silver hair. the hour of the eel drew close, she had to make a descision. she looked to the paper again, a map was inscribled below gwaynes words. it was simple enough to follow, the opportunity was far too precious and too rare to pass up.

this morning she was a shy maiden, apprehensive and petrified at any sight of a stranger, closed off from the world. now, as she placed the cloak atop her shoulders, she remained a terrified maiden but who descited bravely, to open her heart to and interesting man, and seize the opportunity to realise her dream.

the air was cold as it hit gwaynes face, he was waiting at the back exit of the castle, a small arched door, hidden behind foliage and trees, known to lucky few. aegon had given him perfect instructions and a promise of mutual silence to eachothers endeavors. many of maegors passageways lead to the door, luckyly one such had acces to the princesses balcony, a stroke of luck or perhaps, a blessing from the gods.

he awaited the princesses arrival, the distance had lead him to grow impatient. he kept her hankerchief in his hand, playing around with the fabric, tracing her excellently embroidered monogram, hoping, wishing the anxiety in his guts, the guilt of his actions would be smoother over by her. despite the words of the letter, he knew, he would wait for her untill the hour of the wolf if that was what it took. he would wait for her as long as it took.

procuring commoner clothes for both himself and the princess was as humiliating as it was difficult. his skin protested the cheap fabric and his senses the design but it would do for now. he could not simply parade around flea botttom clad in armour after all.

he stood in wait and the more he waited the more anxious he grew. no, no he was not anxious, it was something else, something sinister. he was hungry. he was hungry to see the young princess, to show her what the real world entailed. gods, he could not wait to see her violet eyes fill with graditude upon him fullfiling her desires. it almost made him grow hard in his pants.

as he looked to the moon, mind wondering, he heard someone approach from behind. he turned his head around to be met with the sight he so longed to see. the princess emerged from behind the greenery, his gift draped around her shoulders, but the hood was down, leaving her locks, now in a simpler braided fashion, to catch the moonlight, giving their pretty color an even more exotic appearance. despite the poor appearance of the cloak drawing a sharp contrast to her well groomed royal face and hair, her beauty remained unchanged.

his eyes draged up and down her body, drinking in her appearance, his thoughts of longing turning now more primal. she shifted in her feet, ever so shy, ever so cute. "you came"

"you asked" she replied, eyes on the ground, feet kicking the grovel beneath her soles. "i am glad you did" he continued, taking a step to her, drinking in her ethereal appearance like a man starved. "even commoner clothes cannot stain your beauty, my princess" his hands made their way upward, taking the hood and raising it atop her crown, hiding her silver locks, much to his disapointment. her head remained low, eyes hiding from his. he took her chin with his fingers, and raise it to look her in the eyes. she was trembling like a leaf, despite her fear, her gaze remained firmly onto his, she wanted to trust him, it was her nature which kept her from doing so. he would give his soul to break down her inhibitions.

"do not take the hood off, ever. we do not want reports of a princess sighting in the city to reach the keep now, do we ?" he whispered. she gave a small shake of her head, untrusting of her voice, afraid it would betray her fear. "good" he chuckled, grabing her hand and turning around, guiding her to follow him.

"adventure awaits" if he had turned around he would see the smile atop her lips.

the arched door opened to reveal a grovel path, around the outer walls of the keep. on one side the imposing castle walls kept her trapped outside, on the other rough rock cliffs lead to wild waves below. talk about being between a rock and a hard place. the prospect of her eminent death by drowning petrified her, fear lacing her feet, draging her back, firmly rooting in the ground almost forcing her to yield and freeze in place. but gwaynes reassuring hold on her hand did not let her fall. neither to the pits of fear or to her doom. he took cautious but determined steps, her own feet automatically copying them, quickly leading her around the scary path and onto a road in the outskirts of the city. an real road, paved with more than gravel, set with actual stone. a heavy breath escaped her nose, fear melting now into the steady ground bellow, releasing her from its shackles.

gwayne looked back at her and brought his hand forward, draging her along with it. he recognised the relief painted on her features, glad to see her calmed down. "that was the most difficult part, it is much smoother sailing from now on. come, we have much to see."

he walked with her along the streets, the closer they got to rhaenys hill, the busier the streets got. she marveled at all the sorts of different people in a messy harmony. merchants and bakers and men of all trades walked along the paths, some of them held in their hands leftover product from the day, selling it now at a downmark. other men were dressed in rich clothes, graced with gold and silver jewlery with women of the night flocking around them, figures doused in shadows stalking further back, no doubt awaiting a chance to strike and rob them.

occasionally she could spot gold cloaks on their patrols, but gwayne ensured she was not spotted by any of them. his hand never once left hers. his eyes caught glipses of her face, hidden by the hood, the amazement in her eyes swelled his heart with pride and pants with heat. they walked in silence, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city. by now they were well on their way to the street of the sister.

in front of him, he spotted a baker, selling several pastries and breads at half price. he approached the man, dragging the young princess with him. she was far too preoccupied staring, gawking moreso, at a band of young men engaged in some sort of game, running up and down the street.

he removed his hand from hers to reach his coin purse. the loss of contact broke her trance, with no warning, she was brought back to reality. to the scary reality. she had lost in a split second her pillar of support, now extremely aware of the world around her. dogs were heard barking viciously in the distance, heavy yelling voices once drowned in the melody of the city now came to the forefront scaring her to her core. the young mens game she had admired a moment past was not but a scary unpredictability, their sudden movements threatening in her head to harm her, gwayne quickly paid the man in exchange of some tart but when he turned around to look at the princess, he realised his mistake.

she looked to him petrified, chest heaving with heavy breaths, hand frozen in place where he had left it, the other on her chest, attempting to regulate her braths. his hand flew to hold her, instead of taking her hand, he took her waist, pressing her body onto his in reasuurance. eyes searched her face, needing to take caution of any change in demeanor. "hey, hey darling, nothing happened, nothing will happen. tis alright i got you"

her breaths still came to her in heavy inhales. the urge to vomit started building up in the bottom of her stomach, vision drawing hazy. gwaynes toutch on her waist was a source of comfort. the support from her knight returned, now in a new form, he was toutching her suggestively, in public no less but without shame, she had half a mind to quit her fainting of fear and swoon from the contact. yet his toutch was anything but unwelcome, anything but a scandal, it was of true chivalry, the hand on her waist along with his sweet words pulling her from the fit of agoraphobia that overtook her.

slowly but surely she regained her composure, focusing on gwayne and gwayne alone instead of the heaps of people circling them. her breaths calmed, coming in rythm of his composed ones. her eyes evidently relaxed, her hyper focused gaze yielding to a relaxed one, searching around his clothing. he smiled "there she is. you scared me half to death my dear" he looked around, searching for a safe place to take her, help her regain her strength.

it just so happened the closest to them establishment, was one of the most famed brothels of the street of silk. oh well, what can you do, he thought. "can you walk, my dear ?" he spoke in a whisper. she gave him a weak nod, and attempted to free herself, to walk independently of his support but failed, slightly stumbling backwards, straight into his arms.

"here, eat this, gain some strength" she pursed her mouth in a tight line and shook her head no. he sighed, the princesses silly attempt a testament to her naivety. "yes, come on, it is for your own good. and do not attempt to stray from me. you are a princess and in need of my aid my dear, it is no shameful thing"

finally she complied, puting it away in one go, some color returning to her face. gwayne sighed once again, this time in relief, his grip on her waist became posssesive for a moment, caging her in, and then, with no warning, he placed a kiss atop her forehead. "come, let us get you comfortable"

she had no time to process such an intimate action as she was taken, gently, along the road, tracing a path to a large purple door. she took note of the dim lanterns encased in shades of pinks and purples, along with the decorum above the door and attempted to deduce what the building was for, a sort of arthouse, a gallery ? it was clearly a sensual place, perhaps a patron of the arts from the free cities, much like the ones who visited the palace, took it up as a project.

gwayne knocked on the door, a woman oppened, clad in a sheer pink fabric, sintched at the waist and embelished with a beaded belt. she could see.... everything, the cut of the dress left little to the imagination, the fabric revealing the rest.

the princess attempted to take a step back, blocked by her protectors hand on her waist. this was not a place of the arts... it was a brothel. her breath hitched at her throat, chest filling with shame. she knew little of how the marital act was done, only aware of bits and piesces accidentally sliped out from rhaenyra. she had attempted to get her hands on books which included details of such an act, only to find out the queen had banned all such books from being kept at the keep. to say she was curious was an understatement. yet despite her need for answers, she did not fancy herself capable of handling such an adventure today. alas she had no other option.

the woman seized up gwayne, clearly noting his pouch heavy with coin, smirking when she took note of his handsome face. then... her gaze fell on her. the whores expression soured, with something the princess could not quite understand. white hot shame overtook her body, one free hand flying to her cloak, puuling down the hood to conceal her face. she had hoped the rest of the workers looks did not leave her so ashamed should they step inside.

the woman did not speak, she only looked to gwaynes eyes again, and stepped inside, urging them in. gwaye gave her a slight nudge, ushering her inside all the same.

immedietly upon entring she was hit with the smell of sweat and exotic spice. another woman, older in age than the one at the entrance and clad in more apropriate clothing, approached gwayne, exchanging words she paid no mind to. women and men lounged all around, in various states of undress, in various poses and on differing furniture. there were women with flagons of wine, filling, overfilling every cup with ruby wine.

gwayne pulled her forward, following the older woman, deeper inside the establishment. the further they venture the more debauched and lewd the acts became. she caught glimpses of it, women lying on to of men, repeating a furious up and down motion, some women were on all fours patrons of the establishment positioned behind them. in one room she even caught a glimpse of two women kissing for the viewing pleasure of a man.

the sights left her speechless, shame spreading through her limbs like an explosion but it also sent a wave of uneasiness between her legs. she attempted to drink in the details of the scenes infront of her, but was unable as gwayne dragged her huriedly along. soon they reached yet another door. gwayne handed some coins to the woman, who smiled slyly and disappeared behind a myrish screen. gwayne oppened the door and all but threw her inside.

she stumbled across the stone floors as he closed the door behind them, the room was... something. nice was no word to describe it, far below the standard she had known. the floor was of pure stone, with soft fur carpeting under the bed and bear the hearth, she did not need to wonder what that was for. in the middle of the room stood a large bed, adorned with an assortment of fabrics and furs and pillows. behind it, on the wall hung a tapestry. she began to study it, the scene quite the scandal, two women with bodies intertwined and kissing, another fantasy of the patrons it must be.

gwayne took note of the silence and her wondering eyes, a smirk growing on his face. "not up to standard ?"

"no... i guess, i dont- wh-why did.... why did you bring me here ?"

his smile persevered, stepping closer to her. "oh, do not be scandalised my darling, i only wanted you to be in... a safe enviroment. here we can be away from prying eyes, and the noise of the people, a while, atleast. i believed you to need it"

"well, i-i guess, i- it was awfully crowded wasnt it ?" he exhaled through his nose, his hand flying to place a strand of hair behind her ear. her eyes trembled, focusing on anything, any other thing but his face. "it was, sweet girl" he moved his hands, undoing the pin that held her cloak together. the fabric falling from her shoulders, he took it in his arms and threw it to the side. he could now admire her gown in its entirety.

it was blue in color, deep like the sea, with the symbol of her house embroidered in black thread on her bodice. the cut of the dress was of much interest to him, it was embelished in intricate white lace and in the shape of a 'v' dipping bellow her colarbone, exposing her breasts. her neck was bare of any jewlery, having ommited it in preparation of the trip in the city. her hair was held back, in a braided crown but some strands still fell loose around her shoulders and colarbone. her hair were his favourite feature of hers, their color their silky feel when he ran he hands through them.. he could only imagine what it was like to tug on them.

but he could wait for that. he pulled his hand away and sat at the pillows sprawled around the hearth, placing her cloak to the side, focusing his motions instead to invite the princess to sit next to him. she took the invite, slowly plopping herself, not next to him but across. ouch, he had thought she was more comfortable with him by now, no matter, he simply had to try more. she placed her knees in frot of her and hugged them in a protective matter, her head placed atop.

" are you feeling better ?" he said, readjusting his possition to lie down further. "yes much better, uh thank you ser" "please, we are far past pleasantries my dear. i whisked you away from home and all but carried you in my arms, call me by my name"

"okay, gwayne... ser." gwayne began to laugh, hand over his heart, eyes closing from the wideness of his smile. his whole body rattled with laughter, it was the most genuine the princess had seen him. heat rose up to her cheeks from her mistake, head falling to hide her face betwix her knees. gwayne, among his fit, took notice of the princesses new position, his heart swelling with warmth at the girls shame. what good does shame do to a goddess on earth ?

"oh, my darling, do not fret, i find your attitude... endearing. you will come around to me, eventually i know it." her eyes peeked out from her knees, shining with the firelight, brows raised as if begging for his words to be true. before he could speak to ressure her, a knock sounded at the door. her brows twisted, sending gwayne a quizical look.

"enter" he shouted. and thus the door oppened, a worker stepped inside, carrying in her hands a tray of two cups and a flagon. she was dressed qeerly, moreso than the girl at the door, a dress held at her hips by a metal belt, the top of it all but fallen off, exposing the entirety of her chest deep down into her navel dark skin glistening in the light, around her waist a series of strung together beads. her hair was loose, fashioned in tiny braids, much unlike her own, and cascading down her back, jet black in color, almost that of the night sky. she was truly beautifull, she thought.

her eyes were full of curiosity and completely trained on the woman. she walked inside the rooms to where they were seated, placing the tray between them. her movements were deliberate, sensual in nature, practiced. she made an effort as she lowered herself, to show off her breasts to gwayne. he smiled at the woman briefly but his eyes did not waver with her little show off. the woman, finally, turned to look at the priness, noticing her amazed, innocent gaze and sent her a wink. the princess went red at the face, hiding once again.

gwayne chuckled for yet another time, this was the most entertainment he had had in a while. he took the flagon and poured them both a cup. "you do know... drinking from such a position will prove difficult, though i would be lying if i said i was not curious to see it..."

she chuckled lightly, the sound rattling her shoulders, and let her legs fall down. they fell in front of her, outstretched, her back still somewhat hunched, hands playing with the carpeting. she looked like a doll, ready to be takena and played with, gwayne thought. he had to stop he knew it well, a princess of the realm was no doll, no thing for him to gaze upon so lustfully, but he could not help himself. "y-yeah i quess" she lifted her head and gave him a small glance, smiling as she did so, and took her respective cup. she sipped at the wine cautiously, small little gulps going down her throat.

yet another movement of hers he found utterly endearing. he took his own cup downing half of it in one go "go ahead, drink, it will do you good" he urged. she heeded his instruction, finishing her entire cup in one go. unused to drinking, especially at such a fast pace and on an empty stoamach, she began to feel the wine hit her head with a small wave, it was strong, nothing like that of the palace. gwayne laughed and poured her another cup. "well, you seem to surprise me at every turn, like a cat. a very tempestious cat"

"i- im sorry" "why now are you apologising sweet girl ?" she gave him a smile, looking to his eyes now, nerves steeled by the alcohol. she took her cup again and began to drink. slowly this time. "well i, i- dont know... maybe i did something wrong or.. or you, you feel i am odd or you know-"

"i find your oddness fascinating, if it please" she gave him a full smile, teeth showing and all. they remained that way a while, their silence leaving the room barren, penetrable by the outside sounds. all sorts of moans and grunts, in all levels of theatrics. they sat and listened a while untill a chortle ran through the princesses body at a particularly high pitched sound. she looked to gwayne with wide eyes, afraid she had done a wrong thing again. but gwayne did not seem repulsed by her in the slightest only replying with a chuckle of his own. soon, the room errupted into laughter, a melody of joy, strange innocence filling the room created to facilitate debauchery.

among their laughs, the princess afflicted clearly by the wine managed to chocke out "wh- what could posses one to create such a sound ?"

gwayne among his own laughter, took pause, still smiling but now his eyes shined with something else, something dark. even the pure crystal of their color could not absolve them of such sinister look. gwayne felt his insides stir with lust, he was leading the princess down a road he knew he should not. he had taken her from her home, showed her the crazed streets of the city, caused her to almost faint and now had lead her into the last place she ought to be in.

but then again, she was no child, she was a young woman, she would have to learn of these things soon... all he was doing really was teatching her, yes, that was it. he did no wrong, he had not toutched her, not forced upon her anything, he was simply exposing her to a different world, he was fulfilling her dream, he was no bad influence, he was a teatcher he rationalized. "well, they are paid to act as if they enjoy it..."

she chocked on her drink, some of it dripping down her chin, even to her colarbone and chest. gwayne looked at the sight, and if she had been able to look at him, she would note of the lust gracing his features. she attempted to clean herself, but only managing to soil her sleeve. understanding the uneasiness of the moment between them she felt needed to do something to remedy it "w-well, i would not know"

she looked down to the floor, body frozen, afraid of what gwaynes response would be. it was, after all, improper conversation. "i did not expect you to, my dear. the ladies of the realm are left with no education on such matters, left to believe the act to be but the prerequisite of creating offspring"

she raised her head, alcohol coursing through her veins washing away the bashfullness of her personality, "but it can be good, no ?" it was gwaynes turn to be shocked, to chocke over his own spit. he cleared his throat and swallowed hard, as if that would aleviate the guilt he felt. he was corrupting her... the evidence began to show, this new side of the princess something most definetly brought about by his and their adventures. but then again, she had a right to know. she had a right to know what the marrital act entailed, she would be married soon enough. he could feel the image of the mother chastising him, his faith a forever alarm in the back of his head, an unnerving lighthouse in the sea of his mind.

but the light grew dimmer and dimmer, replaced by the rose colored visage of the princess, her violet eyes looking to his for answers, her knight, her companion, her teatcher. how could he dissapoint. "well... yes, ofcourse it can. there are many aspects to carnal pleasure, many of the in servitude to women, though they are neglected in the royal beds. women can draw as much pleasure as the man"

his hand went to her extended leg, brushing his thumb along her ankle. what washe doing ? he should get out of there, take her in his arms and take her where nothing could taint her. his heart wished to protect her virtue, but a larger part, a truer part perhaps, longed to be the one to soil her so. "i should like to know" she spoke. gwaynes hand on her ankle tensed, squeezing her extremity slightly. there was no place for the seven in a place like this, this was a house of sin. but knoledge, is ever present, even in the darkest of acts, even in war and death there is something to be learned. this was but another part of life she ought to lear, he justified to himself.

he sent her a look, another squeeze to her ankle, a quizical one this time, asking "are you sure ?". she nodded.

gwayne had half a mind to take her in his arms and show her firsthand all she needed to learn. but he held back, raising himself to stand instead. he extended his hand in front of her face, asking her to take it, though he knew already she would. she looked up at him, innocent eyes through lashes, if only she knew the effect she had on him, and accepted the invitation. he pulled her from her position, a laugh escaping her, only to bring her flush against his front and urge her forth.

they exited the room and began to wonder the hallways, hands entwined, giggling. they must have looked like children frolicking through fields, a vision opposite to their enviroment. sounds of coupling echoed through the walls of the establishment, they passed through several doors and rooms, gwayne looking briefly inside of every single one, browsing. eventually they stopped, having reached a certain chamber, quite unlike the rest. the door was wise open leaving the inside available to spectators, they were much richer in furnishings than the chambers they had resided in, clearly, the client was of exceptional wealth.

"here, take a look" whispered gwayne, bringing her forward to look at the couple, pressing himself to her back all the same.

the scene was... debauching, bewitching, scandalising. in the middle of the room lay a circular bed, on top of it a couple, a man surprisingly young for a client here, and a woman equally as beautifull. the man sat in the middle of it, she on top of him. her hips moved in sensual motions, practiced by the years of her work, each movement of hers must have worked wonders for they elicited loud moans and grunts from the man, the melodious sound mixing with mewls of her own and the sounds of their hips.

the princess was enamoured by the sight infront of her. she felt an ache to her stomach, throbing in her insides, unfamiliar feeling with an unknown solution. she was mesmerised both by her bodys reaction and the scene in front of her, so much so she failed to take notice of gwayne behind her, pulling her in his embrace like a serpent, slithering hands around her waist, head going to whisper in her ear. "enjoying the lesson ?"

feeling his breath, his sweet words in her ear, it startled her, body working on its own, attempting to escape the knights trap. but his hold on her did not relent, his arms working on their own, trapping her further in his hold. "are you uncomfortable ? or simply shy ?". his hand on her stomach began to move, feathelight, back and forth, up and down, sending shocks of pleasure through her body.

"you see my dear, it is not so bad... it is not bad at all. everything is part of human nature, so is this even if the gods deem it private. you neednt feel uncomfortable.." his hand moved further up, possesed, on its own accord, before either of them could realis ewhat they were doing, she felt his hand onto her breast. the tension in her body could take no longer, mouth releasing a loud yelp. the sound came quite louder than she had excpected, grabbing the attention of some of the ladies and patrons near them. immedietly, whispers could be heard, even above the lustfull sound of the brothel, "is that a princess ?" one such whisper reached the ears of gwayne. immedietly he pulled the girl along, before she had time to question him.they began running through the brothel, back to their room.

once again gwayne threw her inside with haste, this time, the ferocity with which his movements guded her, lead the princess to loose her footing and almost land bottom-first onto the floor. almost. she felt strong hands around her waist. once again, gwayne her knight had come to her rescue, the gesture filled her heart to the brim with affection. as his clear blue eyes gazed upon hers with concern, she looked to their vastness, the world stopping for a moment, for that moment, gwayne was her everything and she was his.

it was no time for such emotions however, they both knew, carefull adn a bit akward, she gained her footing, gwaynes hands leaving her, his own body moving to grab her previously discarded cloak from the floor. he took it and placed it on her shoulders, the motion so tender it was more reminiscent of a wedding ceremony.

she would be the death of him gwayne thought, no god could wash away the sins he had commited to her virtue that night, despite it all he knew he would not repent, she would be the death of him, he thought. she his death and his own desire his damnation. "we must make haste if we wish to go unnoticed" gwayne spoke in concern but only playfulness comuted to the young girls mind.

he took her arm, carefull this time to be gentle, and began to once again navigate her through the brothel. whores and patrons alike noticed the swiftness with which they exited but, far too preocupied with catching a glimpse of the targaryen princess in their midsts, paid no mind. they exited the brothel onto the streets once again. gwayne paved a path for them, different from the last one. this time they took the narrow strainous path of the hook.

the princess grew tired of the fast pace but time left little window for rest. noticing her reluctance, gwayne wasted no time, taking her in his arms, like abride on her way to the bedding ceremony, to carry the rest of the way.

there, in the arms of gwayne hightower, she felt a strange peace. she gazed upon the streets of the city, aware it might well be the vary last time she could so freely traverse them. yet, she found herself unable to focus on the experience, the arms around her so sturdy, a worthy distraction. the audible heartbeat of her knight only the crowning jewel of the experience.

eventually, they reached the tall walls surrounding the red keep, at a blindspot to the guard. much to her dismay, gwayne put her down, holding her waist untill she stabilised.

"there is another hidden door here, leading to the kitchens. it is a forgotten servants passage. i believe you can take yourself to your rooms from there ?" she nodded. "good. i shall take a different path, lower the risk of being noticed, nothing to concern yourself with"

she was not ready for their time together to be ended. she longed to spend more time with gwayne, his name to her synonymous with fun. his eyes looked down to hers, locked in time, both of them unknowing what the correct words to say were. the longer he stared at her the more her body filled with heat, the blue of his eyes, the various memories of his hands on her filling her core with that same sensation the show at the brothel brought about. only this time... it was far more intesnse.

she opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off, not by words of his own, but his movement, hand flying to her face, sowly dropping the hood of her cloak so he may marvel at the moonlight in her hair one last time. confident now, his hand found purchase on her ckeeck.

if she was not hot from the strange feeling in her core, his toutch would surely burn her. "my stay at the city will not be long... i only hope to have fulfilled your hearts desire. i know you have gifted me with a night i will tresure forever. are you satisfyed, my darling ?" his thumb dug slightly into her cheek to emphasise his words. she nodded. "use your words my darling, do not withhold your beautifull voice from me"

"yes" she said, voice dripping with desperation. he smiled and removed his hand from her cheek. the loss of heat threatened to send a frown to her face. but she had to brave, for gwayne. instead, his hand reached into his pocket, pulling out nothing else but her hankerchief. "i do believe this is yours"

she looked to the piece of fabric, and considered for a second. "keep it" she said. gwaynes eyebrows shot up in surpruse, his mouth a playfull smile. "i shall treasure it for the rest of my days, my princess"

she felt a strange pull to gwayne, something in her mind, no, not her mind, this was no logical or sensical thought, the heart surely had juristiction over it, or rather, the feeling in her stomach, it told her to kiss him. to give herself to him fully, to repeat the things she had learned in the brothel.

before her body could give in though, footsteps were heard, no wonder the keeps guard. gwayne said nothing, only hurrying her inside the hidden brick door and diapearing. she stood there, in the dark of the basement and stared at the closed door. even when outside the footsteps came to pass, she made no movement. there were things unsaid, things yet to be done between her and gwaye. but they had to remain uncovered, she knew, in her mind the same as her heart.

gwayne tried to sleep. gods he so wanted to sleep. maybe in the unknown land of darkness he would find the one who he so longed to see, maybe then he would be able to do the things he wanted, to say what he thought, bare of shame and guilt. he reached to his 'commoner' pants, the ones he wore on their excursion, shuffling around the fabric, to pull out what he wanted. the princesses hancerchief, the one she had so graciously gifted him. it still held some of her scent.

it was to be a long night and the painfull erection in his undergarments tastament to just that. if he was to get through it he needed a distraction...

the morning light filtered through his window, disturbing his sleep which had not come easy, orgasming into the night untill he knocked himself out from exhaustion. he could still feel the soreness in his legs. one day at kings landing and already he had turned to a sinner. but it was not kings landing at fault, it was the princess.

he slowly rose, placing feet on cold hard ground. the itinary of today dictated breaking fast with his sister and her family, attending to some buisness at court his father insisted upon, training with daeron yet again and in the afternoon, more politics with his father and the king. no time was allocated to himself, no time to maybe try and seek out the princess. there was a small chance of her presance at either the breakfast, or sneaking around in the yard, the sole thing keeping him motivated.

and yet he went on and on with his day with no appearance from her. no lithe form sneaking around walls and bushes to catch a glimpse of, no presance at breaking fast, nothing. he settled back into his rooms defeated. he had gone thought the motions of his nightly routine as if possesed. and when he finally settled into his bed, he felt a pang of rejection. he sat and shimered in the feeling, second guessing his actions of the night before, replaying all the things he could have done differently. when-

his door sounded open and closed, the creaking of the wood at the hinges unmistakable to be anything else. he got up suddently, affraid of there being some threat to his person he had to face. he turned his head around, excpecting the worst, only to see the face he had been excpecting all day.

the princess stood there, clad in only a white nightgown, hair loose and tussling though her shoulders all the way down her back, in her hands a small candle, casting shadows on her face rendering her excpression unreadable.

gwayne knew not whst to say, the gods delivered to him the gratest gift of all. she was here, with him, out of her own volition, he almost could not handle it. he had to take this in stride, one wrong move could send her bolting. and thus he sat there, ever still, trying to hold back his urge to lunge at her and the annoying presence between his legs.

even whith the minimal light, he could see the way her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. "i-" she began, the rest of the words melting from her tongue. gwayne chuckled, ever amused by the princesses demeanor. "my princess do yo-"

"shut up" she cut him off. gwaybe would be shocked if he was not so amused. the princesses hand fidled with the fabric of her gown, a beat passed adn she stepped forward, steps full of nervous determination. she walked all the way to his side on the bed.

now he could see her clearly, the red of her cheeks, the purse of her mouth, the pink details of her dress so delicately wrapping her form. he still held back, fighting to not reach his hands and toutch her, make sure she was real and not a manifestation of his deepest desires. cautiously, slowly, she placed her candle atop the nightstand. "i wanted to... um... i wh-"

his hand acted on instinct, finding her hip. she looked down on his hand, exhaling. "can i- i- i should sit down right, yes" and she did just that. he repositioned himself to give her space, hand on her hip subtly guiding her movements. "i wanted to... see you i... mised you"

his hand began to move up and down on her body, making her grow tesnser. "i missed you too. never did i think i would, want lingering eyes from the shadows" "well um.. yes, i meant maybe... in a different way"

gwaynes eyes gleamed with hope, dangerous waters the princess was treading but who was he to say no ? "what is it, sweet girl ? you can tell me"

"i have this... feeling in... my stomach i just, i want... you, i just, i cant describe it" gwayne took no time to move, placing both his hands on her hips, knowing where this conversation was going, savouring the princess basically serving herself to him on a golden platter. "do you want to toutch me sweet girl ? is that it ?"

"yes. i want... i dont know, ive been thinking... you know about umm... about the things... we saw, at the brothel" his hand moved, from her thigh to her hand, she did not pull back, allowing him instead to take it, playing with her fingers, calous skin on soft one. "what have you been thinking about ?" "i... thought about... y-you and and me in... their place"

gwayne could feel his cock almost throbing in pain. she would be the death of him. his hand on hers moved, on her back, bringing her closer to him. she grew tense, her free hand still fidling with her skirts. his other hand moved to her face, cupping her cheeck, raising her head to look at him. her eyes looking up at him, her form couped up under him, he swore he was in the heavens.

still, he could gauge the princesses nerves, tense body and trembling hands, and as much amusement as he found in this little game, she remained a flight risk as well as a fainting risk, if he were to take her right away, surely she would vanish. and so, he remained quiet, unlt silently reassuring the princess with his thumb on her face. "i just umm... theres this feeling in my stomach and... it makes me want to do these, things, i- i have been thinking about this, been fantascising"

his hand on her face left, slowly dragging downwards, onto her stomach, just a little bit above her core. "this feeling, here, is it?"

she nodded furiously. she did not know what was happening to her, to her body, she only knew gwayne was causing it and soely he could fix it. gwayne her knight, her confidante, her cause and key. "show me then, sweet girl, how would you do it ?"

her head craned to look at him, confusion lacing her features, mouth open, ready to speak. he stopped her with a kiss. he kissed her, finally. all he had hoped ofr, wanted, longed to do these past couple of days, realised with such a simple movement. to his surpsride and delight she did not pull back, not only, she pressed herself further into him, her hands on his thighs, finding purchase not of nervousness but need. she needed him, she needed the support of her knight.

the princess felt as though she would implode if he did not toutch her, damned shame preventing her from unashamedly speaking her mind. times like these she wished to be like her sister, take what she wanted with no concern of consequences. just as she thought she could take no more, he kissed her. his lips were soft, so soft, a perfect contrast to the rough hands on her back and stomach. her head filled with desire, with need, she belived she would faint again, faint if he would be taken from her. her need gave no space for shame anymore, the longer his lips remained on hers the more shame drained from her body, leaving her only in desperation. he hands flew to his thighs a silent prayer for more.

he pulled away, much to her dismay. his body twisted, reaching the empty space on the other side of the bed, bringing to her a pillow. he knew he could not grant her what she sought, gods forgive, he had done damage enough, soiling the mind of such an innocent creature but he could not dissapoint her either. his mind spoke of guilt but his heart knew, this was but a carnal expression of his devotion, how could such a thing be sinfull ?

he could have his cake and eat it too, please the princess and protect the sambles of purity she still had. it was his duty, as her teatcher and knight, to guide her through the worlds of both duty and adventure. "do you ever... pleasure yourslef, princess ?" she shook her head no. "tis alright, cmon i shall show you" he placed the pillow in her lap.

confusion was not a strong enough word to describe the princessed feeling to gwaynes actions. still, she trusted him with her life, he had proven his devotion, truly, all he needed do is ask and she would jump into the depths of the sea for him. the hand on her back guided her forward, urged het to... sit on the pillow in her lap. ever so trusting, she followed his guidance. slowly, cautiously but unashamedly, she stradled the pillow. the new position reminiscent of the one the worker had on the brothel, now she understood.

"y-you want me to.. do onto the pillow, as i would onto you ?" gwayne smiled, "yes, sweet girl.i want you to use the pillow to take your pleasure, to be selfish. can you do that, for me ?" she nodded. her hands moved from gwaynes thighs to grip the pillow. the shame she had felt earlier but a faint memory, the only thing she could think of was pleasing him. she began to roch her hips, back and forth.

her core was bare on the fabric, leading her to feel every sensation, every rub, everything. she could feel tension on her insides, moving her hips back, pearl bare on the fabric, a completely new sensation. she did not know what exactly was happening, she knew not why this particular spot on her core sent shocks through her body, she only knew it aided in alevieting the tension to her stomach. she pushed her body harder onto the pillow, chasing her pleasure.

she became so consumed with discovering her own body, she neglected to notice gwaynes motions. she craned her head to the side to look at him, to find the reassurance, the praise she needed. she looked to the side and found gwayne, with his cock free, one of his hands caressing up and down, in tandem with the movements of her hips. she gasped at the sight.

gwayne looked at her, alerted by the sinful sound. the princess had shifted her position, hands to the back of the pillow, holding it in place to match her thrusts. her face was twisted in pure acstasy, head fallen back, hair tusslibg down her back, exposing her neck. gwaynes free hand flew to her face once again, pulling it onot his, kissing her.

this time it was different. their previous kiss was sweet, chaste and very brief. it was but a way for him to shut her up after all. this time it was opposite, his lips attacked hers, passion and need pouring from every one of his movements. a particularly pleasurable drag of her hips sent a gasp to her mouth, an opportunity for gwayne to intrude her mouth with his tongue.

the more they kissed the more debauched she became, the previous tension in her stomach replaced with a new one, a ball of pressure building in her loins with every movement. the more they kissed the more she understood what to do with her mouth, tongue mimicking the motions of gwayne, leading him to leave a low groan. he pulled away whispering "you will be the death of me".

by now the tension was almost unbearable, her thighs began to shake involuntarily, it was strange, far too strange and far too much, but she wanted not to disapoint "gwayne i-"

"shhh, i know sweet girl, its ok, keep going" and she did just that. her movements got sloppier, thighs by this point tired, exhaustion fighting a battle with her need to please. she let out a particularly pathetic mewl "gwayne, gwayne please, what"

"i know, i know. let go, its ok.." he replied, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, sweet and chaste, the antithesis of what his words had urged. the princess heeded his instruction, letting go. a sweet sensation took over her body, pleasure errupting in her stomach, through her veins, consuming every single of her limbs. she could hardly control her bdoy, movements halting, brows knitting together, moans escaping her mouth freely, almost as loud as the ones in the brothel.

gwaynes mouth found hers once again, mufflig her moans somewhat. his hand abandoned his cock, im favour of taking the princess in his arms. she was trmbling slightly still, the moment she felt his skin on hers crubling in his embrace. with care, he repositioned her to lay down on the bed, now so pliable in his hands, the nervous jittering girls present just minutes ago gone. he himslef moved, laying on top of her, staring at her face.

he could writte ballads to her beauty, entire novels to the way her forhead creased. her hair tussled around her head like a halo, white reflecting the light of the moon through the window and the candle of the bedstand in a dance of shadow and shimmer. his hands moved to her hair, playing with it, tangling in the waves of silver. slowly, so slowly, he dragged then down, brushing hair them from her exposed collarbone, lowering to her breasts, cupping them, sending a jolt through the princesses body and a whine through her mouth.

"you did such a good job my sweet." he continued, lowering his face to press featherlight kissed to her neck "there is so much i could show you... so much more i could teatch you." his words were sealed with a squeeze of her breasts eliciting yet another moan from the princess. "alas... i cannot, you know we cannot"

"but why ?" her questin came as a desperate whine. gwayne bfelt a pang of guilt in his chest, he had oppened a box of doom, one he could not seal. his desire ran a hot stream though his veing urging him to abandon his gods and worship her in their stead. but his divine calling, be it the princess or the seven, was to exist in tandem with the laws of men, and they allowed no such behaviours.

he took her legs, manhandling them across his lap, her body worming its was to his embrace. one hand rubbing smooth circles on her ankles, the other took her head, hiding it in the crook of his neck. he shushed her little whines, holding back with every morcel of his sanity. " i know sweet girl... but it would not be right to do what you ask of me. i cannot make speeches of duty, the gods only know i abandoned such a notion the second i lay my eyes upon you. you have come and turned all i knew upside down. i have not done right by you, not in the eyes of the law, not in the eyes of the seven. but, we ,ay yet salvadge our situation, yes ?"

her head made a move to look at him, perhaps to speak her mind but he prevented that, hold firm on her form. "do not worry yourself with such matters, yes ? sleep, my sweet girl and i shall take care of it"

her mind was still heavy with thoughts but alas, physical and mentall exersion would not allow for her to be arguementative at this time. she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, secure and unashamed in the hold of her knight.

gwayne could hear her breathing even out, steady inhales and exhales a song to his ears. he however, could not so easily forget his worries. the situatuin they found themselves in, or rather, the situation gwayne had put them in, was indeed precarious. if their excursion or worse their nightly endeavors were to be discovered it would end her reputation and his life. but there was a way out. he could, have her. he would have her.

and as the night progressed, sky coming full of stars, he decited, then and there, his purpose was her, her safety his duty and her hapiness wis reward. she would be his life or signal his doom, in either case, as long as she was his, he would be glad to take it.

a/n: alright yall, this took too long but im really happy with the end result. there may be minor rewrittes in the next few days, or i might release an updated version altogether. please give me your thoughts on gwaynes characterisation bc i was working with scraps.

[andtoconquer]

// Playing with the idea of making War partially biomechanical, then realizing she's kind of just becoming "What if Karlach from bg3 was an evil blood pervert"

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Implied/Eventual), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Fake Dating

Word Count: 7.4 K (OOPS)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+/Mature because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, violence. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I know, I should be working on "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," but this idea was swirling around in my head and I had to write it.

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

"Alright Butcher, I'm done." You sigh closing the file in front of you and standing from the worn wooden table covered in empty Chinese food containers and stacks of papers almost as tall as you. "If I read another word about trying to stop an electrical current, I'm going to commit toaster bath and I'm taking you with me."

It was late, past two in the morning, but Butcher had a lead on a B-list supe that had been using his electrical powers to steal cars and run a chop shop business downtown. You had been close to catching him yesterday, so close in fact that your eyebrows were still a little crispy from when he shot a bolt of lightning at your face that you only dodged in the nick of time when Soldier Boy grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you out of the way. Unfortunately, your shirt hadn't survived, it had ripped and you spent the rest of the day wearing one of Butcher's oversize Hawaiian shirts all the while Soldier Boy told you that it was a waste to keep a pretty little figure like yours covered up.

I hate him so much.

When Butcher had initially asked you to join his team a month ago you were excited, but then you found out that you were going to be stuck with Soldier Boy. The supe, that despite Annie's arguments should be given back to the government and put on ice, was allowed to join Butcher's team after he took down Homelander. Who was currently frozen on ice, somewhere. As long as Homelander was far from you, you didn't care. The guy gave you the creeps.

But the team still couldn't figure out where the electricity manipulating supe was hiding or where he was dropping the cars, which meant you had spent the past twelve hours staring at files and a computer screen so hard that you felt like your brain going to melt out of your ears.

"Do whatever ya want kid. I'm not ya damn babysitter." Butcher grunts, his face hidden behind his own file. His boots were on the table and he was leaning back in his chair so far that you were tempted to tip him over, all it would take was a good solid kick.

You smile at him. Butcher was adept at pretending that he didn't want you around, of course you knew how antsy he got when you weren't there to offer your opinion. You figured that he just liked pushing people away and given his history you understood that.

Annie sits up from where she and Hughie are cuddling on the couch. "Why don't you stay?" Her brow furrows with worry. Annie was big on the whole, "women not walking at home alone at night thing," which normally you didn't, but you figured that whatever was waiting outside the apartment was probably less intimidating than Homelander. And you could handle it.

"Because I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight and not that godforsaken rickety cot in the corner that Frenchie got. Can't stand that one spring that always seems so happy to see me." You pull your leather jacket off of the back of the chair and whirl it around your shoulders, before bringing your hair out from under the collar.

Hughie snorts.

"Hey, that cot is an antique!" Frenchie crows from his highbacked chair spewing a mouthful of smoke into the air. Kimiko was sitting at the coffee table in front of him working on her writing, a thick black marker clutched in her hand. MM was taking the night off, but you thought he was probably trying to avoid Soldier Boy.

"Yeah well, that cot is about as old as grandpa over there." You gesture to where Soldier Boy is sitting in another one of the armchairs in the corner watching you while puffing on a joint.

He was always watching you and due to your inability to read his mind it made it difficult for you to gauge what he was thinking, but you assumed that it was the usual macho crap he spouted 100% of the time. But he wasn't checking you out, well this time he wasn't. You had caught him staring at your butt more than once, and he'd made several comments about exactly what he'd like to do to you, but right now an emotion glimmered behind his eyes that you couldn't place.

Soldier Boy stands from the chair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that stretched over his chest and a pair of blue jeans that fit him just right, well, if you were looking at that. You were, but it was easier to pretend that you weren't. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn it, why does someone so attractive have to be such a dick?

 "A lady like you shouldn't be walking home alone this late." He frowns at you.

"Like me?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Good thing she ain't a lady." Butcher chuckles at his joke

You punch him hard on the arm, not enough to break it, but enough to make it hurt.

“Bloody hell woman.” Butcher rubs his sore bicep shooting you an angry look.

Not many people could look intimidating while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but Butcher pulled it off. Not many people looked good in a Hawaiian shirt either, but Butcher pulled that off too.

"I'm serious." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow.

"Oh now you're so chivalrous?" You cock your hip to the side, planting your hands on your hips. "Didn't you try to kill me last month?"

"To be fair, you were trying to kill me-"

"Because you were trying to kill Annie. Where was the chivalry when you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd like to do to you with my bare hands sweetheart." His grin turns wolfish. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, perhaps you'd like some company?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with that ancient spring than roll around with you." You tap your lip thoughtfully. “Then again I’m sure that cot is the same age as you and it can at least get it up.”

Annie muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Last time I checked everything was working, perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?” Soldier Boy smirks.

 "Can't you keep in your pants for once?" Butcher sighs, tilting the file downward to glare at Soldier Boy.

You can't help but smile at Butcher's response. Butcher might have tried to push you away, but even you could see his protective instincts. That became wildly apparent whenever you went out on a mission alone and although you would think that it was annoying for someone to think they needed to protect you, in Butcher's case you made an exception.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes. "She shouldn't walk home alone."

You wave your hand over the wilting fern on the kitchen counter, eyes shifting to green for a moment as it perks up. It was the only plant in the house and although six people lived in this apartment, not one ever remembered to water it. "And you shouldn't butt into my business."

Soldier Boy opens his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupts his train of thought.

"Wait y/n. Coffee tomorrow?" Annie asks ignoring them. She's sitting up from the couch, her body turned towards you with both of her hands on the back cushions. 

She was one of your best friends, well, really one of your only friends. You'd grown up together and when Annie moved to New York you had decided to move and take some college classes in the city while you worked at a small garden shop after class part time.

The owner still couldn't figure out why nothing you cared for seemed to die.

You usually kept your status as a supe on the down low, and only used your powers when you really had to, which wasn't often before you joined Butcher's team. You'd only lasted two semesters before Annie came to ask you for help finding Soldier Boy and after that, Butcher asked you to join his team for shit pay. You accepted but you still worked at the garden shop part-time, also for terrible pay, but you loved it there.

Your powers made it easy to make sure nothing died and sometimes it felt like home being surrounded by plants. Caring for them was the one thing you seemed to be good at, and sometimes they felt like family.

You didn't have much family left, beside your grandmother and your older brother who still lived back in Des Moines, and sometimes it was lonely in the city. Annie was the only person who you'd been able to connect with since you moved, and now that you weren't going to classes the friends you made in college didn't really understand what you were doing with your life.

And telling them "oh I hunt down supes for a living and sometimes kill them" didn't really sound like something you could say in passing. It also did wonders for your dating life… NOT.

"Sorry babe, I'm at the shop tomorrow. But I'm off at 3 if you want to get coffee after?" You hold open the front door of the apartment, looking back at her expectantly.

You hated blowing Annie off, especially since the two of you hadn't been able to hang out outside of missions mostly because she was spending all her time with Hughie.

"Sounds great!" She beams.

And with that you disappear out down the hallway and into the night.

It's raining as you walk down the desolate streets. Cars splash water over the gum covered sidewalks that soaks through your tennis shoes and makes every step against the ground squish. But you ignore it.

You usually loved when it rained, loved to feel the cooling water pool against your skin, loved to hear the soft patter of it against the windows of your apartment, loved the earthy smell that came with the drops, but not tonight. You were still thinking about Soldier Boy.

You don't know why you let him get under your skin so much. You'd met men like him in the past and it was usually easy for you to brush them off, but not him.

I mean yes he is gorgeous, and maybe kind of charming when he's not trying to get into my pants, but I don't want just a one night fling. I want what Annie and Hughie have.

You think about your best friend and her loving boyfriend. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when the last time you had a lasting relationship was your first boyfriend back in high school who, when he found out you were a supe, was only interested if you had the power to shape shift into someone 'a little more busty.' The relationship ended with you locking him in a tree and the fire department having to come cut him out. He was fine, maybe a little more green than a normal person, but...

You'd heard that he got a job from the Green Giant Vegetable Company doing cameos as the Jolly Green Giant. So if anything, you helped him have a career?

Annie and Hughie were both head over heels in love with each other, knew everything about each other, didn't have any secrets, and it wasn't just sex, it was a close relationship with someone else who understood every part of you. You wanted that; and as much as you had avoided relationships in the past due to your supe status, you still hoped to find a supe that was kind and didn't think that they were a god for what they could do.

Why do so many have a god complex?

You think again about Soldier Boy. That wasn't the first time he had tried to coax you into bed and it wouldn't be the last, that was for sure. At first you had hoped that he would give up, it had been a month since you'd met, but he was still going strong, despite having a different woman in that apartment almost every night.

Maybe he's just really horny after being trapped in a lab all these years. Then again- You remember all the articles you read about him from the 80s, the ones that recorded his numerous escapades and think about his founding of Herogasm.

Maybe he's always like that, but he never comes on to Annie or Kimiko, only me. And I've threatened castration multiple times. You'd think he would care more about that than anything else.

You consider with a frown, clutching your jacket tighter around you. Rain trickled down from your hair and under the collar of your jacket to soak into your t-shirt. Your once light blue jeans were soaked to a dark navy with the amount of water that splashed up from the road and dripped down your back. For the first time in forever, you wished that it wasn't raining.

Probably should have just gotten a cab, but it's so expensive and-

"Hey baby." Someone calls from behind you.

Can't I just walk home without being hit on? One time?

"Not interested." You shout back, continuing to squish down the cracked sidewalks.

Three shadows peel off the wall of shops to your left blocking your path forward. Each is wearing a dark colored hoodie hiding their faces from view.

Is my luck really this bad? I never hear about Annie getting mugged or Hughie. And Hughie definitely looks wimpier than me.

"Don't be like that baby." The man behind you says.

You half turn your body so you can see all your supposed attackers at once. There are actually two men behind you, both wearing similar hoodies to the three now standing on your right.

Oh look they color coordinated their outfits… cute.

The man opens his mouth again.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You hold up a finger. "I've been dealing with a horny 104 year old  geriatric man all day long. Please don't push me right now." It was an attempt to warn them, but you knew they probably wouldn’t listen to you.

No one ever does.

"Sounds like you need someone to relax with." The man smirks steeping forward to grab your arm. "I'd be happy to ease some of that tension baby."

"Look. I'm going to give you a chance to walk away. To avoid making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. Because honestly you all have the worst luck in the world." You jerk your arm away from him.

"I like em feisty.” He purrs stepping forward again while the others laugh. “Come on baby-“

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You grab him around the throat, lifting him in the air like he weighs nothing, your eyes beginning to glow a brilliant green.

“I did try to warn you.”

"She's a supe!" He shouts struggling against your grip.

You throw him backwards into the other man standing to your right before facing the men on your left. Each one has pulled out a knife preparing to rush towards you.

"I get it. Y’all are out late, you bought matching outfits, but do we really have to-“

The first one rushes you, waving his knife through the air in a frantic dance. He doesn't get the chance to make contact with your arm. Vines erupt out of the pavement, breaking through the cracks in the concrete, binding themselves around the man who lets out a savage cry, quickly silenced while the vines continue to wrap around his body until there's nothing left but a mass of struggling green foliage on the pavement and some muffled screams.

He's lucky, could have had him dragged back under ground.

His friends stand there for a moment, eyeing one another as if they're not sure what just happened. You can practically see them trying to decide if you're still worth the trouble.

“Anyone else?”

The battle that follows is swift, the sound of cracking bones and the soft thud of punches landing echo over the soft patter of rain in the night as you dodge their blows and land your own against them. The vines continue to spread outward snatching up the men who fall to the ground in front of you, dragging each one up the street light above that sends yellowed light over the desolate streets. By now each bound body hangs from above like a sack of meat in a meat cooler, moving with the struggling men inside while the muffled cries shatter the still silence of the night.

Sometimes it's really too easy.

And as you begin to turn back someone grabs you by the hair, yanking you into their sweaty embrace. The leader's hot breath sticks to your cheeks, the cool metal of his switchblade pressing down so hard on your throat that you feel the pinprick of blood begin to form under the tip.

“What are you gonna do now bitch?” He snarls in your ear.

"Give you one more chance to surrender." You spit.

Like I'm going to give him the satisfaction of me begging for my life.

"I'm gonna enjoy this-" The man begins to say, pressing the knife deeper into your throat, but the rest of his sentence is cut off with a strangled cry as he's pulled away from you.

 What the hell just-

You turn around, freezing in shock.

Soldier Boy is crouching there in his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans over the man who just had a knife to your throat. His fist rising and falling as he punches the man in the face.

"Don’t you ever touch her." Soldier Boy snarls. His fist is already covered in blood, the man’s face a mass of bloodied tissue and bone.

"Stop you're going to kill him-" You run forward to stop Soldier Boy, but he doesn't stop even when you try to grab on to his hand.

"I said STOP." You shout louder, this time manipulating a vine to wrap around Soldier Boy's arm and restrain it.

Fuck he might already be dead.

"Let me go." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow. The usual green was replaced by a darkened pit with his rage. You'd only ever seen him this mad a handful of times, one of which was when the supe tried to zap you like a fly in one of those insect traps two days ago.

Why is he angry?

"I'm not going to let you go, until you promise not to kill him."

"I should." He snarls back at you.

"What are you talking about?"

He stands from the body, eyeing the last attacker who runs full speed down the sidewalk and vanishes into the darkness.   "I should kill him for trying to hurt you." Soldier Boy says simply.

You wave your hand allowing the vine to let go of his arm. "Where do you come off so high and mighty? You literally tried to kill me last month."

"That was before I-" He shakes his head angrily, eyes still blazing.

"Look I don't need you to protect me. Given what I've had to deal with all day I was looking forward to kicking some ass."

"You did." He smirks nodding his head in the direction of the men hanging from the streetlamp above you. “I just thought that you were outnumbered.”

"Why are you here?" You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I wanted to go for a stroll." Soldier Boy shrugs. He flexes his hand, before wiping the blood on the front of the sweatshirt of the man on the ground.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't need you to protect me." You say again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I had this handled."

"You sure doll?"

"Look I get it- you think that you're some knight in shining armor because you have this macho complex. But I'm fine on my own." You begin to step around the bodies of the men on the ground moving in the direction of your apartment, but Soldier Boy follows you.

"Where do you think you're going?" You turn to look at where he falls into step beside you.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone."

"Well you're sure as hell not going home with me."

His lip turns up in a smirk, towering over you. Soldier Boy is easily a foot taller than you, so broad that it's impossible to look past his imposing figure. It would be attractive if he wasn't so damn annoying. "Come on sweetheart, I know you want me to go home with you." He purrs with a smile. "I think you'd really enjoy it if I did. And I'll even let you tie me up with those pretty vines of yours." Ben leans in towards your face and you take a step back.

"Hard pass. So what? Is this your big move? Acting all chivalrous just to get a woman into bed with you?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No. Now go back to the apartment, before I send you there in pieces." You turn back to squish down the sidewalk at a faster pace, hoping he will get a hint and leave you alone. But you knew he wouldn’t stop. He practically thrived on teasing you, had been the bane of your existence since you met him. And nothing seemed to dissuade him.

"What is your problem with me?" He jogs to catch up. "And don't say that it's because I tried to kill you, that was last month-"

"I think that's applicable to this week and the week after that and the week after that." You count out with every finger to further emphasize your point, but you know that Soldier Boy won't give up that easy.

"Are you always this fucking angry?" He almost laughs.

"I don’t know. Are you always this fucking annoying?" You turn to face him narrowing your eyes.

Soldier Boy chuckles at your look, running a hand through his hair that has darkened in the spray of water, his green eyes watching you curiously. They were shinning now, not the blacked pits of hate they were when he was beating the guy two minutes ago. For a second, just for a second, you see how handsome he is all over again.

"Come on, give me a real answer and I'll leave you alone." He's smiling at you now, giving you one of those boyish grins that, if it were anyone else, would make your heart stop.

He just wants sex. He doesn't care about you. He won't ever care about you. Breathe.

"Fine." You sigh. "You might say you're a supe, but you're not a hero. People like you and Homelander, you don't care about anyone but yourself. You use your powers for you and on your own terms. You were going to kill that guy-" You gesture back towards where the body is still on the ground, the man's heart beat is dangerously low.

"He was threatening you. A thank you might be nice." Soldier Boy's cheeks flush as he glares down at you with darkened eyes, his anger surging back in his chest.

"Yes he was threatening me, but I'm okay and you could have just taken him to jail. You didn't have to beat his face in."

"So you're saying if he had been attacking someone else you wouldn't have done the same?"

"I would have subdued him and then waited for the police to get there. The men hanging from the streetlight aren't dead. We aren't the law-"

"Right so those guys can get off with a warning and then go on and do the same thing over and over again." He scoffs rolling his eyes at you.

"It doesn't give you the right to kill them."

"I suppose you don't believe in the death penalty either."

"I believe in the death penalty Gramps. I just don't believe it is our job to carry it out." Your temper was flaring against your skin distracting you from the chill of the rain as it soaked into your clothes.

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be saved by me?" Soldier Boy asks. He shakes his head as if he can't understand you.

You didn't blame him, most people didn't, that was why you spent most of your time alone.

"I'm not one of them. So leave me alone." You turn to go.

Honestly, why is this the kind of guy I attract? You roll your eyes to yourself. Oh you mean, tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous- The other little voice in your head whispers in your ear. NO. You tell yourself. Please I just want one guy who's not a total dick. Why is that so hard?

"I still don't think it's a good answer." He huffs.

"Of course you don't." You roll your eyes and begin to walk again. The streetlamps above send an eerie yellow glow over the parked cars along the road and over the crackled pavement. If Soldier Boy wasn't here bothering you, you might have stopped to admire the water as it splashed underneath the suspension bridge beyond the crowded buildings, but you wanted to get home. Without him if possible.

You glance over at Soldier Boy again. He looks normal right now, always does when he's not wearing his suit. And when he shut up you could see why people were so in love with him. It was when he opened his mouth that it reminded you exactly why you didn't like him.

You stop in front of your apartment building and force yourself to smile. "Thank you for walking me home." You say through tight lips, hoping that the false sincerity will make him leave.

He gazes up at your building with a frown. "This is a pretty shitty apartment building."

"Thank you. Not all of us inherited millions of dollars from our parents."

He pauses for a moment continuing to look up at the building, before he sighs loudly. "Look, I-." He sighs again. "I can't take listening to Annie and Hughie fucking. They go at it every night and she always makes the power go off."

You knew that already. It was another reason why you didn't like staying at the apartment, because listening to your best friend get railed by her boyfriend was not your idea of a good time.

You look up at Ben, and for a second you see a glimmer of the truth, just a flash of something that wasn't like the misogynistic attitude he usually had and it made you pause. He almost looked, sad and it made you feel bad for him. Of course you felt bad for him before, when you found out his entire team just gave him away to be experimented on and when probably the woman that he'd come the closest to loving really didn't care about him at all.

It must be incredibly lonely to come back to a world where almost everyone you know is dead. Guilt builds in your chest at the thought. I had lost my fair share of people, but not everyone in my life and I certainly didn’t learn about it on the same day.

"You know I think that's the first honest thing you've ever said to me." You say quietly shifting from foot to foot.

He half-smiles. "Maybe."

You chew on the inside of your cheek considering. You weren't afraid of him. You knew that with your powers you could take him. You were stronger than most and harder to kill. And despite the bad things you thought about him and knew about him, you kinda thought he was relatively harmless, well, you didn't think he was a rapist.

"Fine. But you're staying on the couch. And if I wake up and you're anywhere near my bedroom, I'll castrate you." You warn as walk up to the front doors and type in the code to unlock them, with Soldier Boy following behind you.

When you make it to the third floor, you raise one hand to stop him from going any further. It falls against his muscular chest and you fail trying not to admire how it feels beneath your hand.

Why am I so thirsty?

"If you wanted to grab my chest doll, all you had to do was ask-" Soldier Boy begins to say, but you raise the hand to cover his mouth.

"Shh." You hiss. "We have to be quiet or Mike will come out-"

"Who?" He asks, muffled against your hand.

You hear a door down the hallway creak open, spilling yellowed light onto the dark blue carpet of the hallway. "Shit. Too late."

Mike steps out of his apartment with a wide smile as soon as he sees you. "HEY y/n!" He crows, waving his free hand enthusiastically. "I didn't know you were getting in so late, but I wanted to give you this." Mike holds out a giant casserole dish filled with something that you can't identify. It's multi colored with multiple layers, one of which looks suspiciously like rice and the next layer looks like cake.

There's no way I'm eating that. Maybe if I force feed it to Soldier Boy he'll leave me alone.

Mike was your neighbor, your neighbor who had lived next door to you for the past 2 years and was shamelessly in love with you. And as sweet as he was, there were a few things that you couldn't get past, most namely that he lived with his mother and that he had a mullet.

One time you'd had a nightmare about it ripping itself from his head, breaking in to your apartment, and smothering you in your sleep.

Not fun.

"Hey Mike." You smile tightly at him, dropping your hand from Soldier Boy's mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry I was out with some friends."

"You should have asked me to come! I love your friends." Mike smiles so wide you're afraid that it's going to break his face. “Especially Butcher. He’s so funny. Always joking-"

Poor Mike.

Every time that Butcher had come over to talk shop, he would mock Mike endlessly. And Mike was just too sweet to realize it. Hughie was the only one who actively tried to be nice to Mike, but even he found it difficult. Annie was the worst though, she'd tease you constantly about what your children would look like and had taken to photoshopping mullets onto pictures of babies and sending them to you at inopportune times.

"Maybe next time." You cough out an awkward laugh while Soldier Boy snorts behind you.

You continue down the hallway towards your apartment, the door next to his, and hope that he'll go back into his home, but no such luck.

“My mom made this for you!” He holds the dish out towards you.

“Oh um that’s so nice of her. But I can’t except that-“

Mike's mother comes to stand in the doorway of their shared apartment. She was wearing a bright purple Mumu, her makeup caked thickly on her face and her eyes accentuated with bright blue eye shadow. “Sure you can sweetie. You’re Mike’s special friend.” She winks before trailing her eyes up and down your body. “And you’ve got such a cute little figure.” His mother does a little shimmy as if trying to get you to do the same.

Kill me now.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Soldier Boy purrs behind you.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You mutter back, knowing full well he can hear you with his super-hearing.

Oddly enough Mike does look suspiciously like his mother, they are both the same height, exactly three inches under you, and have the same mullet, but hers is a shocking blue-gray and his is jet black.

He blushes at her words. “Aww mom.”

Soldier Boy muffles a laugh before disguising it into a cough. You elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Well thank you.” You take the casserole dish with one hand, hoping that you can open the door and usher Soldier Boy in before he makes a comment. "I've had a long day and it's really late-"

“I helped her make this one.” Mike interrupts scooting closer to you, so close that you get a lungful of his terrible cologne, the one that the super sells for four dollars and smells like baby powder and Cheez-its.

“A man who can do it all.” Soldier Boy whispers to you.

Mike looks above your head as if noticing Soldier Boy for the first time. “Who’s that? I thought I knew all your friends.”

“He’s certainly very handsome-“ Mike's mother blushes from the doorway.

“Your brother?” Mike offers.

You can see his expression turn hopeful.

Probably thinking about how he can become friends with "said brother" and that will escalate our "relationship." 

“I’m Ben.” Soldier Boy says, stepping around you to shake Mike’s hand. “I’m y/n's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks bloom a bright pink, unable to respond to the ridiculous statement that he just made.

Murder. That's what sounds good right now.

“Oh.” Mike’s face falls. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” His eyes flick back to you, disappointment swimming in the irises.

You watch Mike’s hope begin to circle the drain.

“Well actually-“ You begin, but Soldier Boy interrupts you.

“Sorry I’ve been out of town for a while. We've been trying to do this long distance thing- you know how it is, late night phone calls-“ Ben trails off with a wolfish grin before dropping an arm around your shoulders. “But I just couldn’t take the long distance. Missed her too much. Phone call isn’t the same as sleeping in the same bed. Definitely not as satisfying. Not to mention there’s only so much my hand can do.”

Your cheeks bloom an even brighter red at his insinuation.  That’s when Soldier Boy does something even more unforgivable, he pulls you tighter against him and kisses you right there in front of Mike and his mother. The kiss is searing, making everything in your mind go blissfully blank. It had been so long since someone kissed you, since someone had held you this close to them without trying to kill you. His tongue teases your bottom lip and before you can stop yourself you open your mouth wider to let him in sighing softly against his lips, while you grip the front of his jacket.

For a moment you can’t remember why you didn’t want him to kiss you, why you denied yourself of this for so long. And then Soldier Boy's hand slides from your back to grab a handful of your ass.

Right.

You slap him so hard across the face that you're sure it would have broken the cheekbone of anyone who wasn’t a supe.

But Soldier Boy only grins wider, squeezing your butt again. “She knows that I like it a little rough.” He turns his lazy gaze back to Mike.

You open your mouth to cuss him out.

“Well we should probably get going.” Soldier Boy breezes. “Probably going to be a long night. If you know what I mean. But we’ll try to keep it down. Then again my girl's a little loud.” He winks at your poor neighbor who looks like he might cry, while his mother stands behind him fanning herself like Soldier Boy is everything she wants in a man.

He's ten for ten with the older ladies I'll say that.

“Oh right. Well I guess I’ll see you around y/n.” Mike turns to go.

“Mike wait-“ You try to say but he’s already vanishing through the door.

“Nice to meet you Mark.” Soldier Boy calls at his retreating figure, getting his name wrong on purpose.

You don’t even use your key to open the door you're so mad, the plants inside let you in. As soon as it opens, you haul Soldier Boy by the front of his jacket through the doorway and pin him to the wall just inside.

The casserole dish lands on your counter and by some miracle doesn’t break.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your hand is fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

He only grins. “You didn’t want me to play along? Sounded like that guy had been trying to get into your pants for a while. Unless he already has been or you want him to?"

You flush a deeper shade of crimson. "That is absolutely none of your business!"

“Well if we’re going to be living together doll, I’m pretty sure it is my business.”

“WE AREN'T LIVING TOGETHER I'M JUST LETTING YOU CRASH ON THE COUCH TONIGHT AND THEN YOU'RE GONE.” You shout.

“I think you’re gonna get pretty attached to me sleeping here. Maybe even  you let me sleep in your bed and even fu-“

You knock him back against the wall again. “If you finish that sentence I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“If you keep knocking me around, Mike's going to think you’re into some pretty kinky stuff.” Soldier Boy smirks down at you. “It’s actually turning me on a bit. Is it turning you on?”

“I don’t have to let you stay here.” You growl, releasing him.

“I think it’s because you like me.” He teases.

“I don’t.” You frown grows. “Okay couch is there goodnight.”

You point in the direction of the worn leather couch. You'd hauled it up three flights of stairs with Annie when you first moved in after you found a guy online selling it for nothing. And when you showed up to get it, he presumed to say it would be free if you let him take a picture of your feet. And after, when he had a black eye and a fun story to tell his wife, he gave you the couch for nothing as promised.

“No kiss goodnight?” Soldier Boy pouts his lips innocently.

“You already had one of those.” You snap thinking about slapping him again and trying hard not to think about how much you wanted to kiss him again.

Get a grip.

“Right. You liked it.”

“No I didn’t. And the next time you shove your tongue into my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“You’re really violent for such a little thing.” Soldier Boy eyes you up and down as if sizing you up.

“And you’re really dick-like for someone who’s supposed to have the wisdom of the ages.” You turn towards the hallway intent on going to bed to avoid any more conversation with him.

"Whoa." You hear Soldier Boy say as he looks into your living room.

It was the reaction that everyone had when they entered your apartment. You had a small one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building that you believed might be older than Soldier Boy. The kitchen and living room was mostly one room, the kitchen to the left with outdated appliances and a small circular wooden table with three chairs that served as your kitchen table and desk, and was separated by the large leather aforementioned couch that faced the wall that held two large windows. Beyond the front door was a small hallway that held the only bathroom in the apartment and your bedroom.

But that's not what was surprising.

Every open space in your apartment was covered in plants. There wasn't a single piece of unused space in your apartment. There were large standing monstera and fiddle leaf figs shoved into every corner and pots of dark green pothos bolted into the walls trailing vines to the ground so that every wall looked alive. Jasmine crept along the wall behind the tv that sat on an antique credenza between the two windows, sending the bright scent into the living room.

There was a large rectangular box bolted in the space above your sink where herbs and tomatoes hung down, probably a fire hazard, but you didn't care. The vibrant smell of mint, the spicy smell of rosemary, and soft tones of oregano and basil fused the air in your apartment with a life force that was impossible to ignore.

A large apple tree grew in a pot as big around as you next to the couch, with brilliant red apples hanging from it's branches, while a lemon tree and a tangerine tree intertwined their branches just behind the kitchen table.  The refrigerator, once white, was covered in the tangled vines of blackberry and raspberry, hanging with full fruit, while a potted strawberry plant sits prettily on top of the kitchen table, the bright red fruit enticing.

It was a lot. You knew it was a lot, but helping plants grow was the only thing you were good at, the only thing that felt right. One day you hoped that you could move somewhere and open a farmers market, but today you were stuck here, with Soldier Boy, who probably thought that you were crazy.

"I mean. I knew you had plant powers but this is-" He begins to say.

"A lot. I know." You roll your eyes. "The bathroom is down the hall." You gesture with your free hand towards the darkened hallway. "I guess I'll get you a pillow."

Ben is still looking around the room dumbfounded, as if he's never seen anything like this in his life, and he probably hasn't.

He's been in a Russian Lab for the past forty years, I mean he's probably not used to seeing anything this green.

You find the extra pillow in the linen closet along with one of the crocheted granny square blankets you made last year when Annie and you had a Jaws movie marathon, and a towel, before you move back into the living room.

Ben is still standing awkwardly by the couch as if he's not sure what to do, and it's the first time you've seen him look lost.

"Here." You throw him the pillow and the towel before you drape the blanket over the back of the couch. "One night."

"Why are you working for Butcher?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard. You were expecting him to make another pass at you, maybe check you out again. He was looking at you, but it was different, his gaze was softer, curious.

"You don't seem like you-" He gestures around the room. "Like you fit."

You blink for a second. "Um."

"I mean Annie used to be one of the Seven, Hughie does whatever the fuck Butcher tells him, but you you're different." His brow furrows together as if he can't figure you out.

"I really don't want to do this with you."

"This?" He looks confused again.

"Opening up with one another. You're here for one night. That's it." You force yourself to say, but the reality was you were still surprised, surprised that he actually seemed to care.

Stop. He's changing tactics because nothing else worked. He's pretending to care about you because he still wants to sleep with you.

"Please."

You can't answer for a second. It was the first time that he'd said that word in front of you before, or acted this way. It was also the first time that it had just been the two of you, before Butcher had been there or Frenchie or Annie and Hughie, but this was the first time that the two of you had been left alone.

Maybe that's why?

You hesitate before you answer, he was the last person you really wanted to open up to.

"I don't know, it's not all that bad." You shrug. "Before I didn't really use my powers all that much except like this." You gesture around the room for emphasis. "And when I went to college everyone was so serious about their futures and I didn't really like any of the classes. The only thing I enjoyed was using my powers at Please Don’t Die, the plant store I work at. And then Annie asked me to come help her out-" You bite your cheek. "She's my best friend and maybe I wanted to spend more time with her."

"But is it what you really want?" He cocks his head to the side, holding the pillow in one hand and the towel in the other.

You'd never seen him look so calm before, relaxed, like being here with you was washing away any anger or frustration he still had about the past. It was confusing, and at the same time you could feel your heart beginning to betray you. It was hard not to fall for him when he looked so good, eyes soft, dark hair falling into his eyes, clothes still dripping rain on your hardwood floors.

No. I will not fall in love with him, I will not fall in love with-

"Goodnight Soldier Boy. I'll see you in the morning." You turn to go, ignoring his final question.

"You can call me Ben." He almost whispers it, the sound of his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

"What?" You look back at him.

"You never call me Ben. But you can, if you want." He shrugs his shoulders, before he shakes his head as if he's annoyed with himself for suggesting it. "Never mind, just fucking forget about it-"

"Goodnight Ben." You feel the end of your mouth twitch up into a smile and with that you disappear into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

And deep down you know that it's not to keep him out, but to keep you in.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you liked this story be sure to read my follow up fic that takes place in the future:

Open Mic Night!

Or if you'd like to read another series please try:

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

If The Stars Wish It So

A/N: I know it's crazy to start another series right now, but I'm kinda feeling this reader and Ben together? What do y'all think about it?

A/N: Update I've made a huge mistake and started another series.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

(Photos for series picture from Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[koiiiji]

random nsfw headcanons

tw ; nsfw, maybe a little ooc (esp with Jonggun, but idc we need to comfort him after shiro oni arc 🤓🙂‍↕️)

starring ; Jonggun, Gongseop, Jinseong

Jonggun is a really passionate lover. as soon as he fall in love he doesn’t let it go. he is fervent and a little too persistent. as he had you in his hands in his bed don’t expect him to let you go. he is passionate and ardent during sex. his hands wander over your body, from your ribs, sliding higher, forcing you let go of blankets, interlacing his fingers with yours, making his bigger palm press your hands into mattress. he catches your every sigh, moan and squeak, giving you sloppy kisses, so a thin thread of saliva connects your mouths. Jonggun is giving you your time to adjust to his rough hands, to his harsh touches — he is not used to soft and delicate skin like yours. his hands are for distraction and fights, so he would pause when he feels you flinch under his hands. he always starts from being gentleman like this, but it always ends up with both of you being cock and pussy drunk, already over enough orgasms but you two just can’t have enough of each other! Jonggun is passionate and warm lover, but god bless you if you are just one night stand…

Gongseop not only fake monk, but also pervert monk. you and him used to know each other for quite awhile. not like your relationship was the warmest, and you never was frequent guest in his temple, you still had your things to do, but every time you happened to be in his bed things became more and more hot. just like the last time, when you saddled his hips, and your own body was moving so smoothly, like snake, searching for more friction, pursuing only your own pleasure. your hands roving over his chest, running his hair through your fingers, lightly moving up to his neck and the back of his bald head, digging your claws into his skin, and hissing softly when his own hands squeezed your firm ass too tightly. Gongseop could try to convince people that he had changed since the first generation, but you could recognize the same nasty smirk when you nipped at his bottom lip in response to his slap. you could recognize it just by his look, a little pitiful, when his lips were open, and hoarse grunts spread throughout the room, and you pulled another orgasm out of him. yes, he could convince people that he had changed, as much as he wanted, but you knew him and his body better than you would like.

who is sexually concerned? Lee Jinseong. the amount of unreleased adrenaline and arousal after his box trainings are insane. and his hormones are not playing on his side too. he is ready to fuck almost 24/7, yet he have his romantic side so he desperately trying to take his time with preparing and making out, but his cock is aching so badly and his balls are just too heavy so he needs your help as soon as possible. you understand his state right? you won’t say no to this desperate puppy, right? but don’t tease him or think he is wrapped around your finger. sure Jinseong is gentle, but during the sex, especially when he is spurred on, he won’t tolerate your brat behavior, and will turn you on your tummy just to mercilessly pound you into his bed, murmuring dirty words (he will turn red if you remind him about this in the morning)

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Five- The Agreement

Summary- Even days have culminated to this moment.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Incest. Pregnancy (we all knew this was coming). Treason. Mention of murder/poisoning. OOC Aemond cuz he’s experiencing joy. Titty sucking. Soft smut.

Author’s Note- and that’s that on that! I genuinely cannot believe how well received this was, I honestly thought I was gonna be writing this entirely for me and didn’t think people would respond to it the way they did. I’m so so glad you all loved it and hopefully that love continues with the final chapter. Full chapter linked below🥰

Morning lets out a curious sound as she follows the reflection of the compact. Her head tilts, the scratch of her claws echoing through the room as she turns them in before she's pouncing on the sunspot, attempting to trap it underfoot. Baela laughs as she shifts her hand, sending the light further into the room, Morning skittering across the flagstones in order to chase it and pulling a laugh from her as well.

Rhaena does not share in their glee, letting out a heavy sigh as she makes her way across the room. "You're so mean to her, you shouldn't tease."

"We're playing," Baela defends, but Rhaena picks Morning up all the same, the young dragon settling into her arms almost immediately. She curls into the warmth of Rhaena's chest, stretching out long where she is cradled, tail falling limp over her arm.

"You'll be lucky if she doesn't bite you," she laughs, making her way over to Rhaena and running her fingers across the pink scales on Morning’s snout.

The little dragon makes a purring noise, pushing up against her fingers and she can't contain her smile. She had never seen Silverwing as a hatchling, claiming her on Dragonstone soon after her family arrived, but she can't deny how sweet Morning is, more akin to a cat than a dragon. Vermax had never been that way, Arrax kinder but capable of the same prickly nature. Tyraxes and Stormcloud seemed closer to Morning than the latter two were but none seemed sweeter than her. Though sweet as she may be, she is still a dragon, capable of violence at any given moment. Particularly if Baela continued to goad her.

Baela looks at her in mock offense, closing the compact pointedly before making her way toward them. "She would never. Far too sweet for such cruelty, aren't you, my love?"

She puts her face far too close to Morning's and though she braces herself to watch her sister lose a chunk of her nose, Baela pulls away before anything can happen, simply rubbing the tip of her nose against Morning’s. There is a degree of longing in her eyes as she backs away and immediately she knows Baela is missing Moondancer. Their bond had been special and the loss had hit her hard, especially when coupled with all the horror that followed, the chains Aegon forced her into, and she feels her heart break for her sister.

"Perhaps we can go riding soon," she offers, coming up to take hold of Baela's elbow. "Silverwing is big enough for two. We can ride however you'd like."

Baela smiles, the corners tinged with sadness, and brings up her hand to take her own, squeezing once. "I would like that."

"And perhaps Morning will join us as well once she's big enough to saddle," she adds, turning back to Rhaena.

Her second sister grins brightly, a laugh escaping her as Morning scrambles up her arm to lounge across her shoulders like a mink fur. She nearly blends into Rhaena's gown, the two pinks far too similar a colour to be pure coincidence, and Baela reaches out a hand to pull their sister closer.

It is moments like this that she has missed the most, moments where the three of them are alone, where they can act as they did as children. There was a brief period, the two years they spent together on Dragonstone before Baela was sent to Driftmark to ward, where they had days just like this. The three of them, joined together at the hip solely because they were girls of the same age. The same septa, the same maester, together always. On occasion, she had found herself missing Helaena, wishing that the four of them had been given the chance to be girls together, wishing that this familial rivalry did not exist. But the night on Driftmark had sealed that fate behind a metal grate forever and Helaena's marriage to Aegon had confirmed it further.

There was to be no shared girlhood for them. Not in this lifetime.

The door to her chambers opens then, pulling her from her thoughts and revealing their grandsire. He stands in the threshold for a moment to take them in, all three chained together by clasped hands, and smiles widely. It makes her stomach drop. "Are we to spend the morning together then?"

"Unfortunately not," she says, face scrunched in sympathy before turning to her sisters. "Would you both give us a moment alone? Council matter, I'm afraid."

"Of course, lovely," Baela assures her. Though there is a clear suspicion there, she still presses a kiss to her cheek all the same.

Rhaena is nodding as well, raising Morning in her arms. "We should find something for this beast to eat before she attempts to devour a few ravens in the rookery."

They say their goodbyes, each pressing a kiss to Corlys's cheek, and she feels her heart clench the moment the door closes behind them, leaving her alone with their grandsire. Corlys looks over at her and smiles, enough to make her guilt feel all consuming before she gestures to her dining table. He takes a seat while she begins rifling through her letter chest, searching for the right seal before pulling it out and joining him at the table.

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @seabasscevans @madislayyy @jessssica1234 @humanpurposes @strangersunghoon

[bluecanvasshoe]

platonic!Arthur Morgan & teen!fem!reader

reader being female is only mentioned, like, once at the very start, rest of the story has virtually nothing to do w it

based around the end of the game!!

Arthur notices you’re upset after some sulking around, so he takes you fishing.

warnings: slight rdr2 spoilers, a little smidgen of misogyny, maybe ooc? idk, no beta reader we die like MEN 🔥, little bit of angst, comfort, NO ROMANCE‼️‼️‼️, …….lazy ending, I HAVE WRITERS BLOCK OKAY

word count: 1.5k

Part 2 !!!!! (link is fixed!)

——————

For the past couple months, it’s felt as if nothing you have done has ever gone right.

When carrying hay-bales to the horses, your arms grew tired. Micah laughed as you dropped the feed and breathed heavily. A few months back, Hosea reminded you that, as a child, you weren’t expected to do any of the more challenging work. However, the urge to prove yourself triumphed over his lectures.

Then Ms. Grimshaw approached you in camp, reprimanding you for your insistence on doing the more “manly” tasks. As a girl of the camp who was yet to be an adult, you, unfortunately, were not saved from her pressing you about your future in the gang.

Afterwards, while practising your handiwork with a needle, you pierced your index finger. It drew blood, so Strauss gave you a bandage and a disapproving look.

The gang slowly dwindled in numbers, leaving your already fragile state of mind in a bit of a crisis. Small things piled on small things that piled on big things, and you soon found yourself dreading chores, which turned into dreading every day that followed. The feeling of thinking you were actively disappointing every living being ever drowned out any sense of reasoning.

On a clear morning, you woke up groggy. All seemed well until you were punched in the face with the realisation that you had to actually get up.

Instead of wasting the early morning away, wallowing in the sadness of your flimsy canvas tent, you sat at the dying campfire. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and your mouth subconsciously pulled down into a frown.

Arthur, ever the early bird, awoke not long after you and sat down on the next log over. His worn and muddied boots crunched on the gravelly terrain, interrupting the chirping of birds. The sun hadn’t yet risen, shrouding everything in a dusky glow.

“You uh… sleep well, kid?” said Arthur, holding onto a steaming cup of coffee.

“Yeah,” you replied simply, staring at the fire. Strauss told you not to drink coffee; he said it was “bad for a child’s development.”.

Arthur sighed, turning his head over as he propped his upper body up, an arm supporting himself by pressing on his knee. “You’ve been acting’ strange,” he commented, “we’ve all noticed. Is somethin’ botherin’ you?”

Your voice caught up in your throat, the words that formed in your head fighting to escape and pathetically losing. “No…just tired.”

The man next to you coughed lightly, clearing his throat. “You…uh, you wanna go fishin’? I oughta' bring some food back to Pearson.”

Fishing? Now there’s something you haven't done in a while. Maybe you could get out of the camp.

“Okay,” you fidgeted with the fabric of your sleep bottoms, your eyes darting from Arthur and back to the fire. It seemed Arthur hadn’t expected you to agree, as he hesitated to find a response.

“Alright, then. Be ready in...about half an hour.”

As promised, you were dressed a quarter after six; at least that’s what your pocket watch you pickpocketed forever ago said. Hopping up onto the pony you used on rare outings, you waited for Arthur to saddle up too.

“You got all your stuff?” He asked, storing away his fishing rod and hoisting himself up, grabbing hold of his horse’s reins.

You look at your saddle bag one last time before turning to Arthur, nodding. “Yeah. ‘Been a while since I've gone fishin’, though.”

“Don’t worry about that; I'll give you a refresher.” Arthur shifted his weight before clicking twice, lightly jabbing his spurs into the side of his mount.

Following his movements, — except spur-less, as you don’t do nearly as much riding as the other men in the gang — you began to move, your horse huffing gently.

You caught up to him thanks to his slow trot, swatting away a couple mosquitoes in the process. “Where’re we goin’?” you asked, your voice raised.

“Well, you ain’t too familiar with his area,” he quickly wiped his nose with his free hand, sniffling. “But it ain’t far. There’s a nice little spot on a lake nearby. You oughta' get a couple bites.”

“Uh-huh,” you sighed, looking down at your hands. Arthur was holding onto his horse’s reins with one hand. You had trouble steering your horse with two.

Arthur slowed once he approached a patch of gravelly sand, getting off his horse with you following. He took out his fishing equipment and walked over to the shore.

“Here,” Arthur reached into his brown satchel, pulling out a block of cheese wrapped in brown parchment paper. “Use some a’ this.” Reaching over, you broke off a small chunk and murmured a hushed ‘thank you’ in return.

“‘M guessin’ you remember what bait is and how to use it, right?” he remarked, preparing his rod. “I think I got it,” you muttered, fumbling with the fishing pole but eventually hooking the cheese onto the sharp point.

“Careful there. Don’t wanna poke your finger.” Arthur joked snarkily, waiting for you to get into a similar position to his, his fishing rod held in front of his body. The bandaged finger he was referring to was sliding the small bit of bait onto the hook clumsily. “Shut up,” you grunted, getting a good grip on the pole and holding it out in front of yourself. The water moved lazily, quietly washing up and down on the sand. The calm surface showed the fish that swam underneath. Minnows dashed around quickly, the small groups of fish moving together.

Crickets still chirped in the distance as birds were beginning to sing, too. The air smelled fresh and felt dewy, a light breeze turning trees into calming windchimes.

“You wanna hold it like this,” he said, tapping his index finger against the line. You attempted the same hold that he had, but with the limited information given, you didn’t immediately get the hang of it.

“No, like- like this, with your index on the line. Should be pressin’ against the rod.” Arthur peered over your shoulder as you adjusted your fingers, pressing the thin string against the wood of the rod. Arthur nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. Now pull back the bail.”

Now, you hadn’t a clue what the bail was, but that hardly mattered. Matching Arthur’s movements, you pulled a semi-circle piece of metal back and over the line spool.

“Alright, now be careful here; don’t wanna take out an eye. Draw back your rod over your shoulder, but not too far. The farther you draw, the longer the cast,” he advised, drawing the pole over his shoulder. You mimicked him.

“Now, you throw it over your shoulder and straight forward,” he instructed, watching your movements. The bait landed about 3 metres away from the shoreline, splashing pathetically before bobbing up and down.

“Just like that. Now, you pull back the bail and wait.”

Silence filled the space between you two—a suffocating, invisible force.

Deer galloped across the lake and within the thick brush. One stopped, a buck, and stared at the two fishermen across from it. His ears twitched before he joined the others.

Loons sang, their eerily beautiful calls travelling across the calm waters. Frogs croaked in the distance, and clouds languidly drifted overhead.

“Look, I… I haven’t a clue what you’re feelin’. But just know that you ain’t alone. We’ve all been stressed. I can’t imagine what you must be feelin’.” said Arthur, turning briefly to face you.

The sun peeked over the distant treeline, slowly casting a calming light over everything in the vicinity.

“I feel like I can’t never do anythin’ right.” You croaked, voice catching in your throat and a painful ache creeping up to your jaw.

“Aw, kid… whad’ya mean?" Arthur had never been great at comfort. He could do it, of course, though he certainly had his favourites when it came to his affections.

You stared off into the lake, your reflection looking right back. “Everythin’ I do feels like a failure. There ain’t a single thing I’ve been able to do right recently.”

Arthur sighed, reeling his line back in and casting it again.

“That ain’t true. You’re a kid. You’re learning. You aren’t… supposed to be great at everythin’, and nothin’ you do is supposed to be right; it’s just supposed to teach you something. This’ll go away; trust me.” He chose his words carefully, coughing to the side before continuing. “Now I know this probably ain’t what you wanted to hear. Feelin’ sad feels... nice sometimes. But it’s true. Basically everyone in this gang is an adult, ‘cept for Jack, so don’t go comparin’ yourself to anyone, you hear? We’re all goin’ through hard times; none of this is your fault, and you ain’t a failure for anythin’.”

The sun steadily rose, framed perfectly by the view in front of you. Your horses huffed occasionally as geese flew above, honking distantly.

He was right; you didn’t want to hear this. You don’t know what you want to hear. Maybe something about how awful you are, or maybe something about how great and amazing you are. You felt conflicted, confused, and even a smidge defensive.

“But I-” “but nothin’, kid. Do with that what you will, but just... think about it. Maybe see things from a different perspective.” He rasped, clearing his throat. “Or don’t; it’s your choice. But just give it some thought.”

Silence settled between you two again, leaving your conflicting feelings to dissipate.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, watching as your bait bobbed on the water’s surface. The chill of the north was soothed by the warmth of the sun, and everything, in that moment, felt okay.

—

Part 2

[selfishdoll]

❛RELAX FOR ME..❜

And now I wanna taste another | And it's safe in a persona, she's my collar. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ SHE’S MY COLLAR.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you assist your pent up & stressed husband to relax. with, a sweet bubble bath.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

bi-han is whipped sorry not sorry, wife!reader, soft dom!bi-han, tired bi-han, reader is having none of his shit, slow sensual sex (at first), bath sex, creampie, cowgirl, ooc bi-han ofc, etc. if i forgot something let me know!

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

feeding into the soft!bi-han & his lovable wife agenda again. idk, maybe if he got a woman that put him in his place once & a while he wouldn’t be so mean in the game 💀💀. i’ll write dom dom shit of him eventually but for now i’m enjoying this. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes. & don’t clock my tea.

Bi-Han wasn’t as secretive with his emotions as he thought he was. Or rather, you always saw right through him. He was tired, both mind and body, saddled with rigorous tasks expected of his status. Grandmaster. It seemed more like a headache than some special title.

But of course, like the gentle and loving wife you were, you stood beside him. Encouraging him, rubbing his back when he needed; though it did pain you to watch him drag his tired body out of bed, his attitude changing the moment he exited your shared bedroom.

The code-switching was impressive, you had to admit.

Tonight was like no other, you seated on your bed after a day of mundane tasks— eyes glued to the paperback held delicately in your hands. So focused on your story, you didn’t even blink when the door slammed open and shut in one swift motion, your husband now standing in the room.

“Out.” You spoke without even looking up from your book, failing to notice the confused expression on Bi-Han’s face. When you didn’t hear movement you glanced up, matching his expression. “Have you gone deaf, my love?”

“What—“

“Leave, and then come back. In here you are not the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.” You reminded, turning back to your book and leaning against the headboard. The room was silent for a moment before a soft sigh escaped Bi-Han, moving towards the door and opening it. You smiled to yourself, hearing him step out before returning, closing the door much softer this time.

If only his subordinates knew how whipped he truly was..

“Much better.” You hummed, hearing the man settle on the bed with a soft sigh, leaning back on his hands. You finally closed your book, placing it off to the side and sliding over to sit behind him. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you closed your eyes, breathing him in. “You’re tense, my love.”

The cryomancer breathed, whether in agreement or not, sinking back into you. Your arms wrapped around his form, fingers trailing his attire for a moment. You could feel the way his body melted into you, steady breaths escaping him. You enjoyed this, feeling him release all restraints and simply be there with you. Mind completely focused on your time together and nothing else.

It brought a smile to your face, hands moving to trail down his large arms for a moment before leaning to place a kiss to his cheek. “Come, let’s take a bath together.”

Bi-Han’s eyes slowly opened, turning to glance at you. “A bath?” You slowly nodded, watching the man sit up. “Is this an excuse to get me naked, (Y/N)?” His tone teetered between playful and accusatory, a sly smile crossing his features the moment you tried to defend yourself. He watched as you rose from the bed, following the moment you reached to lace your fingers together. Right on your heels the two of you entered the grand white bathroom, eyes focused upon the long white, drop-in bath. Releasing him you waltzed over to it, turning the shiny golden knob to allow water to flow. With a small huff you plugged the bath, humming to yourself as you noticed the water began to rise.

Turning back to your husband you sauntered over to him, hands coming to rest on his chest. “Do you need help getting undressed, Grandmaster?” You teased softly, looking up at him through long eyelashes. The corner of his mouth twitched, reaching over to place heavy hands upon your shoulders, maneuvering his hand to caress the neckline of your nightgown.

“Do you?” Bi-Han questioned while leaning down, fingers curling under the strap of your dress all while planting his lips against your neck. You breathed, head moving opposite to allow him more space, feeling your silk cloth tread down your body; pooling at the ground. His hands fell to your waist, moving you to step out of your clothes before pulling you plush to his body— face rising from your neck to plant gentle kisses up your throat and to your mouth.

You shivered at the feeling, arms coming to wrap around his body, hands rested in his hair. The kiss was languid; Bi-Han enjoying each inch of your mouth as if kissing you for the first time. His hand traced the natural arch of your back, fingers trailing before pressing against the dimples that marked your dark brown skin. You pulled back to breathe, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

“Our bath is going to overfill..” You spoke, pulling back and allowing him to see you in all your glory. “Undress, Bi-Han.” Said man watched intently as you turned to the bath, eyelids lowering the moment you leaned over the tub to cut off the water. Shortly after you climbed in, water adjusting as you slid to sit in the middle of the porcelain tub— waiting.

You didn’t wait long, given the man was out of his clothes in minutes; walking over to the bath and climbing in behind you. Your warmed as strong arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you back onto his lap and against his chest. The two of you melted, resting together and enjoying the warmth of the water. One of Bi-Han’s arms was strewn across the rim of the bath while the other was around you, pulling you even closer.

You breathed softly, turning to place your face into his naked chest; smiling to yourself. This was nice, you couldn’t count the amount of times Bi-Han has taken you up on a bath or even a massage. Always refusing and informing you he was fine, as if to ease your worries. Which, never did.

You rose up, coming to stare down at him to which he met your gaze, arms moving to place his hands upon your waist. Your own hands found his face, palms tracing his perfectly sculpted cheeks, smiling at the way he subconsciously leaned into your touch. You came close, resting your forehead against his, your noses brushing against each other. Simply breathing the other in, eyes pinched close and content. That soon changed the moment you adjusted your form, your breath hitching the as you brushed across his length.

Bi-Han’s hands tightened upon your hips, thumbs rising to caress the stretch marks laid upon your skin. “And here I thought, we would only be bathing.” He spoke, eyelids lowered as he pulled back to look at you. His hand trailed up your body, feeling up the damp skin before taking ahold of your chin. “Yet my wife couldn’t resist, could she?” Before you could defend your case his lips were already on yours, stealing your breath away in a single kiss.

You hadn’t wanted to push him, to take away the sweet and peaceful atmosphere. But he knew you all to well, you simply couldn’t resist.

The cyromancer released your face, hand moving underwater while the other lifted you up. Grasping his length, he easily found your entrance, slowly pushing inside. The stretch caused you to back away from the kiss, hands falling to his shoulders to grip. His own fingers sunk into your plush skin, hips rising to meet your lowering body; fully sinking into you. You mewled softly as he groaned, other hand finding it’s spot back to your hip. You leaned forward, resting your face in his neck while Bi-Han let you, content with being inside you for now.

That wasn’t always the case though. If it was any other time he would be drilling into you by now, wiping away the pretty tears that would tread down your cheeks. But for now, he has taken a softer approach. One you appreciated.

Once settled you slowly began to move your hips, a soft oh escaping you as the pleasure began to roll up your spine. A hand lowered to your back, pushing and guiding you to gyrate rougher, his own breathing getting heavier with each swivel. Soon enough you were gripping his shoulders tightly, rising yourself up before dropping down onto his thighs; synchronized moans escaping the both of you as a result.

You continued, the sound of wet skin on skin contact surrounding the bathroom and creating a score that lined perfectly with the melodic moans the two of your released. Bi-Han was enjoying this far too much; head leaning back against the rim of the tub, melting from the warmth of the water and your walls clenching around his cock. Every so often his hips would raise from the porcelain, meeting your sweet drops just to hear you moan sharply and feel you twitch.

Your hands had trailed down to his chest at this point, pretty tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you continued to fuck yourself on his length. Reaching deep inside you, brushing against your most sensitive spot, stars filling your eyes. As much as you wished to get him and yourself off just from this, your legs began to ache; steady drops turning into nothing more than pathetic falls. Your swollen, slick lips were parted, whines of his name escaping your throat. Bi-Han knew all too well what you wanted, what you needed. Of course he was more then happy to oblige.

“Growing tired, my love?” He breathed, leaning over to press open mouthed, sloppy kisses against your heated skin. Eyebrows pushed close, the man pulled you even closer as his hips rose once again, smiling at the way you nearly toppled over into his chest. You whined for him once more, nails trailing down his skin, leaning to press your lips against the corner of his mouth. Soft pleas for release escaped you, eyes closed as his hands continued to trail your skin. “Please Bi-Han.. I need you..”

Bi-Han’s breath seemed to hitch from your words, cock swelling inside of you. “How can I not oblige with you begging so prettily for me?” He spoke, rising to capture your lips. His tongue intruded your mouth, all while he adjusted himself in the tub, gripping you harshly and seated you completely against his thighs. There, he began to drill up into you, kiss breaking apart from the rocking and your sweet moans.

The water shook around you, ripples pushing against the white material as he fucked you roughly. Bi-Han’s dull nails dug into your flesh, leaving behind reminders of your love-making. His head lowered, stamping a long kiss against your chest right where your heart is, all while hurried breaths and grunts escaped him. Your arms rose, hands curling into his hair, wetting it and ruining the already messy bun. Nothing else was needed, the two of you knowing all too well how good the other was feeling.

From the way his hand clenched the fat of your hip, thrusts beginning to lose its rhythm, muttering soft swears and affectionate words into your skin. From the way your fingers tangled in his hair, bringing him closer, back arched as pleasured tears trickled down your face— cries of his name escaping your raw throat.

Moments passed before you came, Bi-Han groaning at the way your walls clenched for the final time; spilling into you. The water soon settled as he rested back into the tub, arms wrapping around you as he regained his breath. You did the same, arching to rest your face into his neck.

A silence covered the bathroom, simply basking in the afterglow inside the tub. You warmed, however, the moment his hand trailed from your back to your cheek, thumb tracing under your eye. Leaning into his touch, your own eyes fluttered as he leaned down to kiss you.

“We must leave, before you catch a cold.” Bi-Han murmured against your bruised lips, pulling away when you began to speak.

“If I was worried about catching a cold, do you think I would have said yes to your proposal so many years ago?” You questioned with an impish grin, watching as the man shook his head, a little smile painted across his features.

“I suppose not, my love.”

[atlasalexanderwrites]

IMAGINE...being there with Arthur when he goes to Thomas Downes for his payment and interfering before things can go too far (preventing Arthur from catching TB)

WORD COUNT: 953

WARNING: none that I can think about, Arthur may be OOC some.

OTHER: reader is gender neutral; no gender specifics given to the reader so your choice!

A/N: the brain rot is real with RDR2 and with Arthur Morgan; I've been feeling icky for the last few days and the others in my house are all coming down with stuff so I needed a comfort character aka Mr. Morgan himself.

A/N2: I've been wanting to write an alternative to the scene where Arthur gets sick where...well...he DOESNT get sick. Originally, I attempted writing him as more low honor Arthur and then instead got this instead lol

A/N3: ENJOY!

“Arthur stop.”

“Arthur this has gone on long enough.”

“ARTHUR DAMMIT!”

Your weren't overly, physically strong by any means, but your partner wasn't in his right mind and was swinging blindly at the poor, frail man he had pinned to the ground. Arthur wasn't thinking clear enough that you were able to knock him to the ground and off of the man who immediately rolled to the side and started coughing, blood splattering all over the ground.

You held a hand to Arthur's chest, praying like hell he had the sense not to start swinging on you as well. “Mr. Downes, I am so sorry about this. I…it seems the heat has gotten to my partner. Is there somewhere that we can speak, calmly and peacefully?” The man had been upset the entire time you and Arthur had been there. Whatever reasons he had for borrowing from Strauss, you knew that you and Arthur didn't have even half of the story. And while you ran with the Van Der Linde gang, the last thing you enjoyed doing was swindling poor people who clearly were unable to repay the loan.

“Arthur, go clean your hands off. Now. And stay with the horses.” You demanded, openly glaring at him and silently warning him against arguing with you.

He grumbled and spat at the ground, but knew you well enough not to push his luck.

You waited for him to stomp off before turning back to the Downes family. 

They were watching you with hesitation and distrust, which you couldn't blame them at all for, but you could also see something hidden just beneath the surface. Something akin to hope.

You sat with them for over an hour, listening to their troubles and how they had ended up this way. They truly were just misfortunate souls who had landed on bad times that seemed to only get worse.

Mr. Downes was sick. Really sick.

It had affected his ability to work as he once had. Taking aloan from Strauss had felt like the only thing to do at the time. Even if the man knew it was a bad idea.

“Get well, please. You won't hear from myself or my associates again.” You promised, biting back the raw anger building in your stomach for Leopold Strauss. What the hell had that man been thinking loaning to these people?

He's a fraud. Just like the rest of us in the Van Der Linde gang. Liars, cheats, and no-goods.

How could you have expected anything but this?

“Feeling better?” You asked Arthur, coldly, as you met back up with him at the horses.

“Oh don't start with me. What the hell was that back there? I nearly had the payment.”

“You nearly guaranteed your own death, Morgan, don't get an attitude with me. That man is sick, his family is struggling, have some…some compassion. This isnt you, Arthur. You're not a thoughtless, careless asshole who beats up the helpless.”

“Oh what the hell do you know about me?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up into your horse's saddle, “I know you’re better than this. I know you're not meant to be the next Dutch. And I know that all of this eats away at you at night; whether you want to admit it or not.”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, you think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Smarter than you’re acting,” you grit your teeth and pulled at your horse’s reins to turn away from him, “Get your head out of your ass, Arthur, and stop trying to act so damn tough. The others might like you like this, but I don’t. And I can think of a few others who don’t either.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur was sitting atop his own horse now and rode up alongside you. He was still upset, but his tone was lower and more gruff than anything else, “I was handling things just fine back there.”

“Sure, Arthur.”

“I didn’t need you to step in.”

“I know that, Cowboy.”

“Will you stop answerin’ me like that?” A sigh slipped from your lips as Arthur’s hand suddenly reached across the small distance between the horses and wrapped around your wrist, keeping you from taking off and trying to force you to pay attention to him. “You’re still too soft on people, ya hear? He knew what he was getting into when he accepted Strauss’ loan.”

Meeting his gaze, you nodded and responded with, “Yes, he did, but people make mistakes, Arthur, and it shouldn’t be met with a stiff fist to the face. He’s ill, Strauss took advantage of that. Thomas Downes and so many more are simply trying to get by. Just as we are. It doesn’t matter now. The debt is settled, I’ll handle things with Strauss.”

It was easy enough to see the look of thought behind Arthur’s blue eyes, and you could tell he was thinking over everything that had happened and all you had said. Finally, he nodded stiffly and let go of your hand. “Alright then, Partner. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Really?” You questioned, brow raised.

Arthur shrugged, “Don’t sound so surprised. Don’t I always do as you say?” His tone had returned to a more teasing nature, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement.

“No, you don’t. If you did, we wouldn’t always end up in these situations.”

Humming, Arthur rubbed at his chin and asked, “Would you have me any other way?”

A laugh escaped your mouth before you could stop it and this time when you rolled your eyes it was out of fondness instead of irritation as before. “No, Arthur Morgan, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

*

Hey! I hope you all enjoyed! If so please consider liking and reblogging! Thank you!

Please stay safe!

~ Atlex Writes