#rather than more noble causes

[alexanderwales]

It's a farming sim, but a year through a war starts up in a faraway land, and half the characters you've been making friends with go off to fight in it. The food you've been making on the farm is heavily taxed, going toward the war effort, and rationing is put in place. A new price administration officer shows up to fix prices and ensure that crops are being produced and delivered for the war effort, rather than frivolous things like wine or tartlets.

At first you understand the price administration officer as a bureaucratic coward and a busybody, the game's villain, but over time, as he regularly visits your farm, you come to understand him as a man who never wanted this. He would rather have been in the war, doing something he sees as noble and honorable. It was his father who got him the job in price administration, and strings were pulled to put him out of the way, far from the front lines. You fall in love, and there's an extended cutscene where you're having sex, but he breaks down crying in the middle of it, and you cry too.

In the third year of the war, he gets called to the front. Too many people have died, and there's no protection for him anymore. The quaint little town has lost more people, not just the able-bodied men, but now the older children as well, the men who are too infirm for the war. The price administration officer promises that he'll write, but you only ever receive a single letter, and it's impossible to know whether he stopped writing, or the letters stopped being delivered, or if he died shortly after reaching the front.

The war ends a year later. Most of the people who left don't come back, and those that do have missing limbs and psychological scars. There is never any further sign of the price administration officer.

At the end of the game, you're graded by how much food you got your farm to produce for this stupid, pointless war whose participants and causes you were always unclear on. This grade is given by the government, and if you do a good job, you get a small, cheaply made medal in honor of your service to the nation.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Omega Knight

Male Alpha Dragon-Hybrid x Male Omega Reader CW: Noncon, stalking, reader fucked into the mud, reader fucked so hard he pisses himself, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, mating cycles/heat, two-dicked dragon-man, double penetration, knotting, biting, claiming bites, combat, medieval dystopia with shitty gender roles, praise kink Word Count: 4.9k (This is a comm for somone wishing to remain anonymous. I hope everyone enjoys it. I made it much longer than it was supposed to be.)

In a time defined by the prominence of magic, the might of kings, the power of knights, and discriminatory sex and gender views, it was extremely difficult to be an omega. They were commonly looked upon as sex objects, incubators, and the property of whoever they ended up forced to marry. Male omegas, given their rarity, were treated as particularly fragile trophies.

You were one such male omega. Not wanting their only son to be looked down upon as someone’s property or prize, your parents raised you as an alpha. They were not the highest house of nobles, but they were still very wealthy. They used their connections and power to get you the very best magically enhanced suppressants and fake alpha scent.

With a combination of careful planning, staying as far from others as you could, and suppressants you manage to become one of the knights of the realm. Despite your smaller stature, everyone thought you were an alpha given your fake scent, dedication, and skill. It took a lot of effort to push your omega body so hard, but you persevered, not willing to besmirch the honor of your house through failure. Your father helped train you, and you paid for your station with sweat and bruises.

Once you became a knight you were one of the very few who worked alone. Knights were responsible for defending the country from the more dangerous bandits and the ever present threat of highly dangerous monstrosities. As such they typically worked in groups and went on missions that could take days to weeks. But you couldn’t risk getting caught applying suppressants and fake scent while out on the road. This required you to be better trained and more skilled than anyone else could hope to be.

The result was that you were quick and lethal on every single mission, quickly racking up kills. You started out by being sent to take down bandits, as every new knight is. But that isn’t what you stayed doing for very long.

You quickly graduated to the occasional ghoul or wandering undead, though these were little more than slow moving beasts. Honestly, rarely as dangerous as a bandit.

From there you went on to put tougher foes in the ground. Chimeras, gargoyles, and the like. They were still feral but they were much more cunning and moved without the stiffness that plagued the undead.

Finally you were regularly slaying werewolves and vampires. Considered to be the deadliest of foes. The king himself had assigned you some of your tasks and awarded you medals for your courage and skill. You became renowned across the land, your name muttered far and wide for your impressive service. Though, as always, you never lingered after receiving praise or rewards. To be discovered at this point would mean enduring certain… consequences…

One day you were summoned to meet the king privately. As you passed the guards and presented your summons you weren’t nervous at all, you assumed that there was a threat to the kingdom that only you could be trusted to resolve. Probably one that was a bit too discreet to share via messenger. Something that could cause embarrassment or panic.

Your assumption was dead wrong.

When you reached the king on his throne you saw he was accompanied by one of the princes, the one who was around your age and also an omega. Prince Orleias stared at you eagerly. It was rather unnerving, though not something that was entirely foreign to you. There were many omegas that looked at you like that.

“Ah, there you are, prompt as always.”

You gave a smile and curt nod at his praise.

“Of course your grace, I would never keep you waiting.”

“I have something very important to discuss with you. You are a well decorated knight of this land and have saved hundreds of lives, if not more. You are also high born and the heir to your house name.”

He paused and looked at you and then back to his son for a moment.

“I am giving you my son’s hand in marriage. He wholeheartedly agrees.”

At this Prince Orleias crept towards you and clung to your arm, looking at you with unfettered admiration. Uh-oh.

You didn’t know what to do, if you declined it would surely enrage the king and possibly bring his ire down upon your entire family. He was not known to be an angry man, but he took note of traditions and honor as most in this society did. He wouldn’t behead you, but it would be highly offensive.

On the other hand, if you accepted, then your secret would be found out. And that deception would be received very poorly indeed.

Luckily, as if the very gods were interjecting on your behalf, a messenger came scurrying into the room to interrupt.

“Sire! Sire!”

“What’s the meaning of this intrusion!? I am discussing a very important personal matter with our top warrior here!”

“Yes sire! I beg your apologies! But we have reports of a dragon terrorizing the small town of Umbrafell!”

Your head was immediately filled with images of villages fleeing in terror as a flying beast rained down fire and fury down from above. You had to help, no one else had as good of a chance to defeat such a creature! This was also your opening to remove yourself from accepting the proposal… or at the very least buy yourself some time to think of a more permanent solution… You extricated yourself out of the clingy grip of the amorous prince.

“My king! I will go at once! It is one of the mightiest beasts in all of the world and I have the best chance to defeat it!”

You quickly dashed from the room and out of the castle and made your way home to don your armor and set out on your newly acquired quest before the king could object, not that he would have. You were obviously the best choice for the job.

Once you had your weapon, armor, and pack of supplies you set out at once on one of the knight’s horses. As grateful as you were from the reprieve that the situation had afforded you, it was still a very serious situation with the lives of many potentially in danger. You had never even fought a dragon before and it was not a fight to be taken lightly. You couldn’t even recall if any living knight had ever encountered one.

The best plan was to talk to the locals once you got to the town and ask them what exactly they had seen of the beat, find out its size, age, speed, and elemental attributes. It was probably a fire dragon, that was the most common from the old tales and songs.

The town of Umbrafell was on the southern outskirts of the kingdom. It would be a journey of a few days to get there.

You continued on at a steady pace that wasn’t too demanding of the horse but still gave you good progress on your journey. You had to stop and camp a couple nights, and stop when necessary to eat and allow your mount to rest and get hydrated, but the weather was pleasant and you made remarkable time. You arrived in Umbrafell late in the morning on the third day of your quest.

The questioning of several of the locals had you believing that the dragon was a giant beast that descended upon the villagers and their livestock, devastating entire flocks and burning to cinders entire fields. Definitely an adult dragon of fire.

The question was how would you fell such a creature? Charging in blindly was not an option. You decided drugging would be the best option. But you didn’t even know if dragons were susceptible to such things. And even if they were it probably would be far too clever to take any form of drugged bait. No, the course of action most likely to end without your smoldering corpse was to find the lair, stake it out, and wait for it to sleep before attacking.

The locals pointed you in the direction the dragon came from. A thick forested area with many hills and slopes. Not the best area to take a horse. You left your mount at the local livery stable, you paid well and knew the knightly steed would be well looked after.

You trekked through the forest for several hours, there was no telling exactly where the dragon had set up its den and you only had a general direction to search in. Whatever lodgings the dragon had found or made for itself had to be massive so you were sure that you’d know it when you came across it.

As you continued your search you cursed your omega biology. Something you did frequently. You felt a familiar tingle in your belly that was unmistakable. Your body was getting ready to enter heat. Even with magic suppressants there was just no way to completely avoid a heat. Or to hide one if someone got too close to you during one. The best modern magical marvels could do was shorten one and make it less intense.

Another reason you’d have to avoid marrying the prince. But that was something you could worry about at a later time, it would do you no good to have your mind head elsewhere while trying to locate and kill a dragon.

Little did you know that the dragon had already located you, long before you had entered its territory. The only warning you had was the swoosh of wings as he descended upon you. Your reaction was fast though and you managed to block the strike of his sharp claws with your blade. What the hell? He wasn’t a giant dragon… he was a half-breed… A race of dragon-human hybrids originally created with a magical blood pact between ancient dragons and wizards. The locals let their fear overtake them and greatly exaggerated the threat.

That didn’t mean you could take him lightly, dragon hybrids were known to be powerful and swift. Well they were rumored to be, at least. They were even less common than dragons.

A more ferocious foe you had never encountered, clawing and slashing at you with grace and brutality. The scales on his hands and arms allowed him to strike your blade with no weapon other than his relatively short claws. They were black and shimmered with each movement. They covered his well muscled arms, legs, and framed his face. To get a good strike on him you’d have to hit his face or chest.

Easier said than done. He was nearly 7ft. tall and exceptionally strong. He wasn’t making this simple for you. What was worse than that though were his mounting pheromones. As the battle went on he sweated more and more, and with no clothing other than a barbarian style fur loincloth it was easy to smell him. The musk of a normal human alpha was something you had long since learned to ignore as if it was damn near nothing, but this wasn’t like that at all. It was making you a little dizzy.

“You should just give up omega.”

His sensitive nose could pierce through your false scent. You shook your head and redoubled your focus and determination. You stared right into his fiery red eyes as you deflected a harrowing blow before tackling him with your metal clad body, opening him up to an additional attack. You slashed into his torso, causing him to recoil in pain. You pressed the advantage and stabbed him in the abdomen.

The dragon almost sliced you to ribbons before you could withdraw your weapon from him. Were he a regular man he would likely be on the ground bleeding out by now, but he was no regular man and roared as he began attacking you wildly.

Every strike was either dodged, deflected, or uselessly glanced off your armor. You got a few more solid strikes in, one on his bicep above where the scales started and another across the chest. He was breathing harder.

But for some reason so were you.

“Y-you should just give up alpha,” you sneered mocking what he had said to you earlier. Though it sounded a lot less intimidating than you had intended.

You started shaking and had to kneel down, leaning on your sword in the dirt. Pain in your stomach, a biological demand, slick rolling down your thighs beneath your armor. You were burning up. His pheromones hung thickly in the air, they had brought forth your heat much faster and harder than you had ever experienced before, completely negating any effect of the suppressants in your body.

All your experience and combat skill and taken down by a dragon’s musk and your own omega biology? It was a disgrace.

Now given the proper time to recover he used healing magic on his wounds. Combined with his already naturally enhanced healing abilities this resulted in him having only faint scars where he was previously injured. “Aww, all helpless because of your little heat darling~”

He sauntered over to you and looked down with a smug expression.

“Sorry for getting the drop on you, but you would have gotten it on me had you found me first. Anyway… now that you are a bit less feisty I think we can do a proper introduction now can’t we?”

Your heat was so strong now that you could barely focus on breathing evenly as you tried to stumble away. There was no way you could find the words to respond.

“I am Ivos, your mate. Don’t worry, I already know your name and everything about you.”

He pushed you down to your knees and kicked away your sword. At this distance his pheromones demanded your attention. He removed your helmet and started prying your armor apart plate by plate, totally scrapping the armor that had been so important to you. Soon you were in nothing but your regular clothes and then not even those as he sliced them up with his claws.

Now you were completely naked before him. The smell of his arousal was palpable. You glanced up towards him and noticed two large bulges poking out in his loincloth. He put his hand on your cheek and rubbed it with a scaled thumb. All it took was that touch for the last of your resolve to melt.

“I have been waiting for this for so long, have been following you for over a year now. Came across you taking down a horde of undead. Then watched you fight battle after battle. Scared the town because I knew it would draw you out. So strong. The only mate worthy of me. But an omega still shouldn’t be forced to live like an alpha.”

All you could do was whimper in need.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait any longer. Couldn’t hold out if I tried.”

Ivos pulled off his loincloth and revealed two large slimy cocks, proud and erect, protruding from his genital slit. He sat down right on the ground then pulled you into his lap, he grinded his dicks against your hole then stretched it with a couple fingers before lifting you up and slamming you down. Both of his cocks firmly impaled your weeping hole. You gasped in pleasure. You had never put anything inside of you to relieve your heats, you thought giving into your omega nature would be like giving in to something you shouldn’t.

He grinded slowly into you, back and forth, making you drool as you leaned against him weakly. He teased your neck with his long tongue, swirling and lapping at your sensitive gland there. Your toes flexed and writhed as he did so. This felt so good. So so good. This is where you wanted to be for the rest of eternity, on his lap skewered on both of his cocks while inhaling his smell.

The dragon wanted to take your bliss to a higher level though, he increased the speed of his thrusts into you while carefully stroking your cock with the hand he wasn’t using to caress your back. He kept at it for a while, gradually increasing the pace as he went. You came hard, panting and shaking as your seed coated his abdomen.

Over the course of the next two hours you were entirely at the mercy of his sexual desire, too overstimulated to do anything other than twitch in pleasure and drool as he broke your brain with orgasm after orgasm. You gasped as he came inside you, stretching your virgin hole to its absolute limit with not one but two girthy knots. He did what came to him instinctively, biting your neck and claiming you as his with a mark. The stimulation was so extreme you not only emptied your balls once more but also your bladder, piss getting all over the both of you.

Ivos didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact he seemed pretty pleased with having fucked you so completely that you lost control of your entire body. He licked the bite mark he had branded you with free of blood before picking you up and flying to his lair, knots still firmly inside you. He took your sword with him, figuring the blade you had come so far with may be of sentimental value to you, but he left the destroyed armor and his loincloth.

Ivos held you as tightly as he could, the cold air returning you to your senses and making you very uncomfortable. When his cocks slipped out of you and retracted back into him gobs of cum dripped out onto the forest below. He smirked at how strongly you clung to him. It wasn’t like you wanted to, but you were terrified at being up so high. You certainly wouldn’t struggle when it could mean your death if you fell.

Your new lover had made his residence in a relatively small tower abandoned beyond the hills. By the time you got there you were so sore and tired from holding on so tight, and the brutal fucking you had endured earlier, that you were in no condition to rebel. You were so obedient when he cleaned you up and fed you. It made his heart flutter, his strong mate being so good for him.

“Such a good boy~”

A grunt of defiance was all you could muster in the way of a rebellious response.

Ivos would quickly learn that you would not be staying so well behaved. You fought him at every opportunity. And he fucked you back into compliance every time he needed to. It took a long while but at least you stopped struggling at the sex. It actually felt quite amazing. And afterwards you were always so good for him.

Even so, while he admired your rebellious spirit, he wanted you to like him all the time. Not just when you were drowning in his pheromones and bouncing on his knots. He caught you the best food, took care of all your needs, brought you trinkets and gifts that would have otherwise gone to his hoard. Sometimes it seemed like you resented these gestures, you were trying so hard to not be a typical omega, and he supposed you really weren’t to some extent.

He had an idea of what to do to get you to enjoy his company more, though he could tell you were planning an escape soon. Your scent was one of someone on edge. Someone deceptive. Luckily you had no idea he could smell such a thing.

The hybrid wanted to start taking you out to hunt with him, maybe even fight some monsters. He had come to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t entirely forced to act like an alpha, maybe you enjoyed some aspects of it and he needed to ease back a bit on catering to you as if you were a princess.

But he had to get you to give up hope of escape before he could trust you going on long outings, not to mention letting you wield lethal weaponry… he didn’t even let you have access to your sword...

Ivos was spot on about you trying to get away. You had spent a couple weeks with him and were constantly thinking about potential plans for getting away. You were also studying his behaviors. Testing how deep a sleeper he was, for example. You weren’t just going to bolt at the first chance. It had to be calculated.

To make your move, you needed a rainy day. The sound of the rain would help hide the sounds of your escape. Of course, you realized that even if your armor hadn't been reduced to scrap, you still would have had to abandon it whenever you made your bid for freedom. The pang of water on metal would give you away along with the weight adding to your footprints and slowing you down. You mourned its loss, not for the first time.

You also needed rain to help mask your scent from that damned sensitive dragon nose of his.

It was grueling. Having to wait for the perfect weather when you had no idea when it would finally rain. Having to act good and behave. Keep your head down and bear the sexual and romantic harassment that were damn near unrelenting. And those damnable pheromones of his. But finally, you had what you so desperately wanted.

A glorious downpour. You couldn't ask for a better chance at escape. Dark clouds late at night. Loud booming crashes of thunder. Pounding rain that would soak you in seconds. You just prayed that it would be enough to wash away your pheromones without your suppressants.

As stealthily as you could, you made your way down the tower and slunk out into the concealment of the storm. The only thing you brought with you were the clothes on your back and your sword for protection from whatever may dwell in the night. Unknown to you, Ivos had let it “fall” from the high place where he had mounted it. Didn’t want you to get hurt by something during your escape attempt.

Once you had traversed the nearby hills and then the forest, you'd be near the village he had terrorized to bait you and could get your horse there.

But one thing at a time, you still had to clear the sloping terrain and trees before you could worry about that. You went as fast as you could go without slipping in the mud or splashing through puddles, but it was going to be a long journey.

Ivos had been asleep when you crept out, or so you thought, but you couldn't be sure how long he would remain that way.

As you continued on through the rain filled night, you began to feel gradually more confident and hopeful about your freedom. You were going to make it. You had been worried if you had been able to maintain the correct course given the darkness and disorienting thunder, but after hours of hiking there it was, the edge of the forest. And when lightning flashed, you could see the town in the distance.

You were so close! You increased your pace, spurred on by the promise of successful liberation. Then, beneath the constant patter of rain, you could have sworn you heard the swoosh of wings. Probably the wind rushing through the tre-

The next thing you knew, you were on your stomach, pushed into the mud. Your sword kicked away uselessly. Your hope was shattered. You struggled, but you might as well have been a mewling kitten.

"If you wanted to play cat and mouse, darling, all you had to do was ask."

You clambered to get away, clawing at the wet ground, as he pulled you back towards him and slashed away all your clothes before sighing laboriously.

"You had been behaving so well too... I guess I'm going to have to give you a little attitude adjustment..."

Both of his large cocks protruded at full length from his genital slit. The rain had quickly faded to a light sprinkle, and the smell of his musk had quickly grown overwhelming. The smell of his desire rolled off of him and quickly had you once more slicked up against your will.

"There's a good boy~"

Your hole twitched around his fingers as he teased you by slipping them inside. You struggled to contain a whimper as you grinded your ass against his fingers.

"Beg for it."

You tried to resist, but his scent and touch had completely taken over your brain. You didn't even have a heat to blame it on this time, and he wasn't in rough. Just his aroused musk could reduce you to a throbbing ball of need.

"Pl-please just... do it already..."

You were glad the darkness of night and the grime that clung to you covered the shame on your face.

"Good enough."

He smoothly slipped both slimy cocks right on into you.

"Damn, that's gooood."

Once more, his twin pricks pounded into you at an increasing pace, filling you far better than any one-cocked human alpha could ever hope to.

Ivos smirked at your wanton moans. They were like candy for his ears. Proof that if you ever got too far out of line he could just fuck you back into obedience. With your armor and blade, you may have been a skilled combatant, but what did it matter when he could make you so helpless?

He kept right on railing you into the mud. His cocks filled you to the brim with cum as he renewed his claiming bite on your neck. You shuddered and came as he knotted you up, the girth of both knots firmly adhering the two of you together.

But he was far from done with your little "lesson." He didn't stop until both of you had come several times, and you lay beneath him trembling and barely conscious.

When his knots went down and his cocks slipped out cum splooged out all over your ass, thighs, and legs. You were covered in mud. Calling you a mess was a serious understatement. Though you were in no state of mind to care.

"Aaaah, that was great~"

The dragon picked you up bridal style and flew the two of you back home. He ran you a bath and cleaned you of all the mud, sweat, and cum.

The next thing you knew, you were in bed with his arms wrapped firmly around you. As the events from last night came back to you, you silently cursed yourself for having been taken so easily.

It became a new pattern in your defiance of him. One carefully curated by Ivos. You'd run off and, just as you were about to escape the forest, he'd swoop right in and fuck you damn near senseless. Then he'd take you back, and you'd wake up clean and in his arms.

You tried in various weather conditions, times of day, you tried fighting, you tried plugging your nose to shield against his scent, but no matter what you did it played out exactly the same.

The final time you had ever tried to escape went much like all the others, up until you neared the tree line. You paused, eyeing the divide between the forest and grassland that would lead you down into Umberfell.

Though you could not see him, Ivos was watching you intently, ready to pounce upon you at the last possible moment. A growing sense of unease gripped you. You even started shaking. No no. You couldn't go forward... Ivos would have you on the ground and fuck you into the dirt... It was all pointless.

You turned and ran back to the dragon's tower.

Ivos smiled brightly from his hidden position in the trees. Your training was complete, you knew what would happen if you tried to do something silly like running off. Now he could, at long last, execute his idea.

It did take much longer than Ivos would have liked, but the alpha was patient and ultimately he had gotten the results he wanted. Taking you out to hunt, letting you prepare and cook your own meat half the time, taking you out for some good old fashion monster slaying, not doting on you too much outside of your heats while at the same time tending to your biological needs by supplying you with all the dick and musk you could want, had gradually made you happily in love with him.

It was much better than your old life, you came to realize that. Being allowed to do things that alphas typically did and no longer having to repress your scent and omega instincts was liberating.

What’s more, you no longer had such weighty responsibilities. The burden of the kingdom’s safety, a kingdom that would have shunned you had they known your secret, was an immense weight to shoulder. And if you had made it back what would have happened anyway? Be a hermit forced to live alone as an alpha for the rest of your life? Thrown into a life of dishonor for refusing the king’s request that you marry his son? No matter what, you would have been miserable.

Ivos had actually freed you, and you loved him deeply.

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[melioraskz]

Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[gravegoer]

i need royal blood part 2 pleasssseee UAGUHDUAHD

Royal Blood — 🜲

i personally love this AU and i hope you guys do too.. for some ODD reason i havent gotten many asks about it but here u guys go summary: sevika helps u get ready for your ball, and a little jealousy

masterlist , part 1

It had been around a week since the night Sevika basically cradled you to sleep. Unfortunately, you didn't see her around much, feeling a bit lonelier without her presence to keep you company.

It's possible she felt guilty for having her hands all over the princess, thinking it's not her place. But in reality, she was just trying her best to resist you. She kept herself busy with mundane and useless tasks, but still hovering close enough to keep an eye on you.

And your plans for her didn't make it much easier for her to hold back.

During the week that your parents were absent on a trip, they had reluctantly allowed you to host a ball. Seeing as this was the perfect way to prove to your parents that you were capable of being responsible you had to insure everything went as planned.

You had your butler customize invitations and send them to a select few noble families. Even though you would have much rather invited your average friends, ruckus had to be avoided, and your friends would most likely cause more trouble than they intend.

Now it was the morning of the big day, despite your mind being set on Sevika the whole morning you had managed to pull yourself out of bed, still in your nightgown, and go downstairs.

As always breakfast was waiting for you on the table, you internally thanked the chef as you dug into your meal, savoring the flavors. The large window in front of you showcased the front of your castle, Sevika stood outside, simply watching passerbyers as if suspecting each and every one.

You laughed to yourself at how seriously she took her job, wondering what was on her mind. You set your plate aside and strode to the double doors to take a breath of fresh air (talk to Sevika).

You emerged, and the cold stone of the stairs nipped at your bare feet. She shot you a questioning look before you spoke, “So.. the ball is today”

“I know, i'll be on guard duty.”

You scoffed at her seriousness, “Really? This is my big day, and you aren't even going to show up. You've been cold this week.”

She sighed and her shoulders seemed to slump a bit, “Apologies, is there anything you want?”

“Yes!” You groaned, “Just— can you at least help me get ready tonight?”

She cocked an eyebrow at your question, “Isn’t that what your personal maid is for?”

“Well– I need help picking something to wear, and my maid is supposed to be bias. She will like anything i do, and you’d tell me the truth right?”

Sevika nodded, giving in a bit.

“Great! I admire your honesty, truely. Join me in my quarters tonight at 6:00.”

Before she could protest you were stepping back inside all giddy. It seemed you would finally get some time to yourself with Sevika. I mean she couldn't deny an order, Right?

..

Right.

Sevika showed up to your door at exactly 6:00 PM, punctual as always. You greeted her with a smile, now changed into a different stay-at-home outfit. You had been lounging around your room for most of the day while waiting for Sevika to arrive.

The balcony door in your room was open, and there were books strewn about your bed. She shook her head at your carelessness and walked over to the balcony, pulling the door shut.

“You know anyone could come in through there right?” She stated sternly.

“To my balcony on the second floor?” You laughed, "Whatever you say, I guess you're the boss around here."

She let out a small laugh that could be mistaken for a scoff and turned to your quite large closet, motioning for you to open it. You pulled the doors open to reveal your plethora of dresses and other garments. Sevika sighed at the fullness as you started to push around the dresses, looking for a color you liked.

After some time, you held up two dresses, and Sevika cringed at them, “That one isn’t fit for a ball, and that one is just—” You groaned, interrupting her.

“You said you were looking for honest, not biased.”

Shaking your head you dove back into the clothes, hands emerging with a beautifully embroidered dress, and another that was similar in style with a low V neckline. Sevika looked contemplative for a moment before motioning to the changing divider, “Try them on for me.”

You crossed your arms, “Well, I cant put them on myself, I need help with the corset.”

You said this like it was common sense, but Sevika looked at you incredulously, not expecting you to ask for something like that from her. She grabbed the corset that was on the ground and the second dress from your hand, “Okay, lets get this over with.”

..

"Fuck, Sevika its too tight," you grunted, hands gripping onto the back of a wooden chair.

Sevika had a knee between your legs, roughly pulling at the strings of a white corset. You were just about to be pulled back by her strength if it wasn't for her leg holding you in place.

"Why the fuck would you put yourself through this," she mumbled through gritted teeth.

You yelped in response, and she finally opted to finish tugging and tied it diligently in the back. Breathing a sigh of relief, you slumped forward on the chair, pushing further into Sevikas leg.

Her hands found your waist before she teasingly asked, "Tight enough?"

You nodded, somewhat annoyed with her sarcastic tone, and grabbed the dress that was on the seat of the chair. Sevika backed up and looked away to try and give you even an ounce of privacy as you tugged it over your head.

The dress hugged your curves in the torso and fell around your legs perfectly, with not too much poof and just enough embroidery. It touched the floor and covered your feet, trailing elegantly with you.

Sevika almost gawked at the sight, most definitely eyeing the V neck of the dress. She was glad she picked it.

"You look ready for a ball," she smirked.

"Aww, that's all you have to say?" You giggled, twirling around.

The small twinkle in your eye made her swoon, and she laid a hand on your waist, "You look beautiful, princess."

You smiled at her action, feeling the gentleness from that night return. It's like you broke down her walls in a second, with nothing but a mere look. You all but pried her hand from your waist, flitting over to your vanity.

Grabbing a clip and a comb, you motioned for Sevika to follow you.

"You know I can't do hair, don't push your luck with me. The corset was as far as I'll go," she crossed her arms as if she were putting a foot down.

"No, silly, let me do yours. If you won't dress up for my ball, this is the least you can do," You giggled, pushing her down into your plush vanity stool.

It creaked under her weight, and she sighed but made no further protests. You could see her eyeing you in the mirror, having little faith in your ability. But you just smiled and got to work.

Taking her small bun out, you brushed the small knots and tangles out of her dark hair. It was soft and shiny between your fingers. You admired the deep smell of her shampoo mixed in with her natural scent.

Then, you pulled it up into the same half updo, but instead of tying it with a rubber, you inserted a silver clip in its place. The clip matched her metal arm perfectly, with just the slightest touch of regalness, to show it was yours.

You held a mirror to the back of her head, showing her your work so that she could view it from the mirror in front of her. "It's pretty right?"

Sevika squinted at it in the mirror, bringing a flesh hand up to touch it gently. "Yeah, too pretty for me."

You scoffed and pushed her head gently, "Nonsense, it's just right. As a matter of fact, keep it."

And this would be your first gift to her. The first among many.

She snorted, "I can't deny a gift from the princess"

Looking at the small clock on your vanity, it read: 7:12.

Fuck.

It started in less than 10 minutes. You hurriedly pulled Sevika out of your stool and checked your makeup and hair in the mirror. She smirked at your worriedness and silently held out an arm for you to take.

You turned around to her, eyeing her arm before gently wrapping your hands around it, looking at her to gauge a reaction. But she walked you to your doors, opening them for you with one hand.

You smiled, realizing her intentions, she was going to walk you out in front of all those people. I mean, it was appropriate, right? It's normal for your personal guard to walk you out, only a safety precaution.

..

Well atleast thats what you told yourself as Sevika walked you down the grand staircase right into the party. People gawked at the sight of their princess, admiring the sight of your beautiful dress, others were staring at something— or rather someone else.

Sevika contrasted your appearance greatly. She stood menacingly at your side, glaring at anyone that shot confused glances. Her rough scarred skin opposed the softness of your exposed flesh. Your delicately jeweled fingers were wrapped around her thick arm as she helped you maneuver down the carpeted stairs.

You let her arm go so that you could start greeting your guests. Your servents had put together a grand ball, tables of food and wine were placed intricately, decorated with jars of flowers and other miscellaneous things.

Women complemented your dress while you shook hands with their husbands, offering some wine or water. You were on your best behavior, making sure your guests would report back to your parents talking about how respectful and polite you were.

A tall woman with dark skin approached you, her white dress with gold accessories glimmered in your eyes. She was positively beautiful.

You introduced yourself, "Hello, im glad you could make it tonight. Your dress is striking."

She smiled kindly at your remark, "It's so nice to finally meet you, princess, let me introduce myself," She took your hand and brought it to her supple lips, "I am Mel Medarda."

Your cheeks flushed, "Well, it's a pleasure."

When you finished the pleasantries, you turned to see Sevika glaring at you and Mel from her position in front of the door, taking over for one of the guards. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you made your way to the other side of the room. After swerving through groups of people, avoiding small talk and sending small waves, you finally got to her.

She watched you the whole way over, but decided to look away the second you approached her. Tapping on her arm you cleared your throat, "Ahem, your princess would like a word with you."

She raised her eyebrow, turning her gaze back to you, "Its not appropriate for the princess to be speaking to a worker during an event."

You laughed off her coldness, "Why are you looking at me so intensely then," You started circling her like a predator to its prey, "You wanted my attention?"

She smirked at your playfulness but shook her head, "Just seeing you interact with others is.. odd."

"Jealous?" You teased, knowing she most likely only thought this because she always saw you cooped up at home.

But to your suprise, her stern demeanor fumbled a bit, brows furrowing and eyes widening.

"No. Get back to your duties, we've been speaking for too long, people are staring."

If she wouldn't admit it, you'd make her.

i do plan on making a part 3 ! but im going to be working on some shorter fics + hcs so i have time to release the beauty and the beast fic :)

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @kylorey25 @archangeldyke-all

comment or ask to be added <33

[igotanidea]

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time. 

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping  “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled  her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)

[orionhelluvaranting]

And remember, kids, you should prioritize wisely!

Alright. I had some kind of tolerance toward these two before. Hell, I had been liked Ozzie even! Unfortunately, after "Mastermind" has released I can't stand them (or the way they're written, to be more specific) anymore! 💢

Bee and Ozzie both are supposed to be that nice and well-meaning individuals who actually care about the commoners unlike the other (bad) capitalists. In fact, they're just two bratty kids who'd rather bully some loser than do philanthropy. But Viv with the standom are so desperate to prove us otherwise. And that's so annoying!

Evidently Bee is a party gal. She's chill 'n cool. But most importantly, despite of being a royal she doesn't give a damn about stupid rules. She considers hellhounds as her equals and throws a parties for them. She cares about her people very much! And of course - OF COURSE! - she'd like to help Loona and co. but... Sigh! Her paws are tied! Besides, there are more important things to do. Like putting Mammon in his place. When else could you find perfect time for this if not at the court, right? Plus, Bee supports slave trade. Just saying.

And Ozzie... Uuuggh, please don't even get me started! The topic deserves a separate post because it's large and I don't mean to go deep into this right now. Instead, I'm going to rant about how Bee and Ozz stand up for Blitzø vs how they attack Mammon. So we could figure their true top priority out.

<<< Tw: acephobia and occasional sarcasm under the cut >>>

How they defend Blitzø:

Say "this lil imp guy isn't bad, let him speak up" (they immediately forget about this the moment Mammon interrupts them)

Rise a hand to vote for hearing out the testimonies (and there's nothing special since M&M and Loona did the same)

Bee gives four middle fingers to the crowd of pompous nobles... Wow. That was so edgy cringy!

Geez, what a great performance! So brave,so rebellious, so selfless! These guys are the bloody legends for real! The true defenders for all the oppressed souls. I think they dropped this 👑

Cough, cough! Excuse me, seems like I had a sarcastic attack. Cough, cough!

Okay, where was I? Oh, right! As you can observe the whole defense from Bee and Ozzie seems pretty weak. It's a bare minimum. You disagree? Then let's see...

How they attack Mammon:

Ozzie yells and threatens him with a literal fireball ​immediately

"Nobody wants to fuck you!" Yikes, that was EXTREMELY acephobic* from your side, Bee...

Bee throws a dick-shaped popsicle at Mammon (fail)

"Why won't you keep fucking yourself?" Woah, another corny insult! Bee, could you please stop acting like a cringy acephobic bitch?

Bee throws a dick-shaped popsicle at Mammon again (success)

There are a lot more passion and persistence, ain't it? And what has Mammon done to cause that kind of reaction? Well, he interrupted Ozzie's speech like this:

"Shut up, you two! We all know you enjoy slumming it with the low class plebs. Unlike the rest of us..."

And excuse me, but, uh... Where's the lie? Bee and Ozz both are banging with the lowest of the lowest. That's true. Their reaction seems kinda "You ask me for facing the truth, but you do it without respect" in that instance. Like??? Are they embarrassed by being called out? Or do they've got offended because Mammon marked their lovers as "the low class plebs"? 🤨

Well, sweeties, I have a bad news for you! There's the class system in your society. That system implies division into classes - low and high. Hence your baes belong to the low one. And they won't stop to belong to it even if you pulled them out of that environment. You can't "fix" them like that. Because the moment you've got bored with them they'll be left with nothing. As far as the system is still alive. The system in whose existence you - Bee and Ozz - are involved as deeply as Mammon. And his words about the "plebs" isn't just his individual opinion. It's the whole upper crust's point of view. So maybe you should try beating up the system? What's the use of your hassle with Mammon? You don't even reproach him for bigotry - that would be valid - but for being unfuckable. This whole situation seems not like fight for justice but like expression of your personal aversion. If so, then why the hell are you getting distracted from the court where the fate of one commoner is decided?

Oh! By the way Bee and Ozz doing it right in front of Satan. You know, that horrible and tough dictator who would shut anyone up the second they dare disobey him. Defend Blitz? Woooah, nooo, no way! Satan is a big meanie, he won't allow this! Bicker with Mammon like there's no tomorrow? Ha, easy-peasy! Satan won't mind. And surprisingly he actually doesn't! Instead, he just... suggests to take the vote + facepalms a bit later. Is this some kind of punishment for inappropriate behavior or is Satan simply fine with the whole nonsense he's surrounded by? I mean, Satan has brought Sins together for this event and now these idiots are sitting behind him and not paying attention (Bel's literally sleeping!). Can't this be seen as disrespectful? No?! Apparently Satan could get mad only if Ozzie speaks the truth out, right? Great 😒

Anyway, let's get back to Bee and Ozz. They were doing that childish nonsense... and what have they achieved? Well, they've managed to make Mammon suck a d. Wow, the true heroes we deserve! Now all the imps and hellhounds rotting in poverty and slavery could breathe easily. Bravo!

And look how frigging cheerful these mfs are! May I remind you they're doing this right after the Goetias have voted for Blitzø's execution and now...

HE'S ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE!!!

What were they even thinking about at that exact moment?!

"We've failed to help this imp and now he's gonna die??? Awww, nooo, poor thing... Anyway! Let's push a dick into the greedy pig's throat! Yeah, we're so cool and edgy. Besties goals!"

And then we're supposed to hate Mammon because he doesn't care about the trial and messes around. But when Bee and Ozz do the exact same thing we should root for them? Really!?!!?

My honest reaction for all this crap:

Conclusion: The narrative (and Viv) wants us to regard Bee and Ozz as the good capitalists, although they put in almost no effort. They do the bare minimum and the standom is justifying them by lack of power and "Satan is the law". However, the lack of power and "Satan is the law" don't stop them from bickering with Mammon in the middle of the trial.

Thus Bee and Ozz prefer to get distracted by stupid childish nonsense without any significant value (and they do this enthusiastically) instead of helping Blitzø and his team. They don't try to noticeably change the status quo on a daily basis as well, even support it (Bee's slave trade). Still, they're admired by the whole fandom as if they're victims of circumstance who are simply deprived of the opportunity to do anything. And this hypocritical rhetoric is pissing me off so much.

*No, I won't take the arguments "But Mammon is closeted! Bee didn't know he's ace! She would never say that if she knew!" Yeah, she didn't know, alright... But guess who did know about Mammon being the ONLY grown-up asexual character in the whole show? Vivziepop! Oh, also SHE wrote this episode. So she was the one who has approved the idea of a "positive" and beloved character mocking an asexual for not getting laid. Therefore the fact Bee PROBABLY didn't know doesn't really make this better for me.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

@anotheroceanid

Between Calypso’s island and his home, on a rocky shole surrounded by mile-high waves under a black sky, Odysseus became a monster. And like all monsters, he eventually watched all his loved ones die without him. 

At first, he didn’t notice. In his relief to be home and his joy to get to know his wife and son again, Odysseus didn’t realize how strong he was until he reached out to hold his wife’s hand and accidentally snapped her wrist. After that, he couldn’t stop noticing how different he was. Everything felt fragile, like spun glass under his fingertips. His form flickered like the wind, one moment strong and steady with the face of a man, the next moment shadowed and looming and clawed and every inch reeking of danger. He could see farther than his son, hear further, and one day Odysseus looked Telemachus in his face and realized they could be mistaken as equals rather than father and son. 

His family grew old while Odysseus stayed the same.

Well, not the same. Odysseus changed in far more horrifying ways. 

Eventually, his family died. First came Penelope, weak and frail and beautiful as always, passing away gently in her sleep, in his arms. Then his Telemachus, decades later in a sickness that swept across the island. Then his son’s son, then that son’s daughter, and her son, and on and on until his last descendant drowned in a flood that buried the whole island for a day. 

When he finally left Ithaca, the first time he’d left since he came home, the world had changed. And Poseidon’s children were everywhere.

Every single one of his son’s children were dead. Yet Poseidon just… kept popping out more and more bastards, like there wasn’t a target on each and every one of their backs. So Odysseus became the arrow.

Odysseus usually avoided eating demigods. There had been one son of Ares on Ithica who harassed his great granddaughter that Odysseus dealt with, but for the most part, he kept his human morals. But he always made an exception for the children of Poseidon.

They weren’t his favorite demigods to eat, by far–too fishy, and Ocean demigod meat always had a weird texture, like eel but tougher. But the joy Odysseus got from Poseidon’s screams of agony, screams Odysseus could hear every time one died, screams Odysseus could hear from anywhere on the globe, gave greater satisfaction than pleasure ever could. 

Many demigods had been sent to kill him. At first it was only Poseidon’s children, seeking him out in revenge for their lost siblings; a noble cause, so Odysseus killed them quickly and properly buried them with payment in their mouths. Then it became quests, demigods sent for the “glory” of killing the Monstrous King of Ithaca. Those, Odysseus killed slowly, ripping out their stomachs with siren’s talons and leaving them to die in pools of their own blood. He didn’t even spare his old friend’s children, nor his relatives. 

Then, the Prophecy. 

Odysseus had lost track of time since the reveal of the Great Prophecy. At first, he’d kept busy by killing Poseidon’s children still; a few had survived the second moral world war and were already older than 16, so Odysseus could hunt them to his heart’s content. But as the well of available revenge dried up, so too did the demigods chasing after him become… younger. Children baby-faced and desperate to survive Odysseus in battle and Odysseus… he couldn’t kill them. Not children, so small and shaking and unable to hold their knife correctly as a child barely old enough to fight stared up at him with watery gray eyes. 

Men, he could kill. Women, he could kill. But children?

Not again. Please don’t make him do it again.

So he disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d lay low out of the Gods’ gaze, so Odysseus let the decades wash over him until, finally, he heard rumors of Poseidon making landfall in New York. 

He’d known his old foe would slip up eventually; it wasn’t in Poseidon’s nature to keep himself from ruining young women’s lives. 

Slipping through the streets and alleys of modern New York, it took Odysseus weeks to catch the faintest trace of Poseidon’s scent. Demigods had a weak scent as long as they relied on their parents. It was meant to protect them. But the Kronide’s children always had strong scents, even as babes. 

Odysseus couldn’t figure out how old Poseidon’s newest bastard was, but no matter how young they were, the child was strong. He could smell it in the back of his throat. 

Triangulating the scent, Odysseus approached the rundown apartment building and scowled. Gone were the days where a lover of Poseidon was draped in fineries and set up in a golden palace. He took a moment to pity the poor mortal woman. She had to suffer the indignity of having that thing as a lover, without any of the perks her predecessors enjoyed; not only that, but soon she’d have to confront the reality of being a parent that has outlived their child. Odysseus pitied her, truly. 

He didn’t want to do it. But he would. It would be better for the babe if it never grew up into a pawn of its father, and better for the mother that she wouldn’t need to die at the hands of a less considerate monster. 

The sky rumbled overhead as the first fat drops of rain fell on his head. He looked up. Natural occurrence or divine attention? Either way, few gods would interfere with his task, if they noticed at all.

The lock crumbled under his grip and Odysseus crept into the building like a thief. Each floor stunk with humanity, of beer and tobacco and sweat, but the salt of the sea grew stronger with each floor until he finally found himself at a corner studio apartment a few floors off the ground.

This lock, he picked with ease. The sanctity of the home did not protect them as he snuck inside. The apartment was shockingly full, stuffed with oversized furniture that cluttered the already cramped apartment. A thin pathway carved between the back of one of three sofas and the wall led Odysseus to the back of the apartment. A bed had been pushed against the apartment’s sole window–lightning flashed outside–and against that bed, a crib. 

He inspected the mother first. Young. Not as young as he and Penelope had been when they met, but younger than Telemachus had been when he returned home. She was thin too, lean but the baby fat still clung to her face. Poor girl. 

Poor, poor girl. 

His attention turned to the Sea Spawn. It wasn’t big, smaller than Telemachus when he left for Troy, and his scent was just a wispy hint of ocean. If he hadn’t been following Poseidon’s scent, he would have had no idea this child was more than mortal. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib, studying the creature inside. With siren’s talons, he traced the pudgy babyfat of its cheeks. It huffed softly, struggling against the tight hold of its swaddle in their sleep, and Odysseus unconsciously smoothed out the wrinkle on their forehead with the soft flat of his finger. 

They did not look very much like Poseidon. Maybe with their skin color, but little else. Though perhaps Odysseus wasn’t the best judge; he’d sworn on his life that Telemachus looked just like his Penelope, but she’d claimed their son to be his copy in every way. Odysseus didn’t see it then, and didn’t see his enemy now in this babe’s face. 

Odysseus stood over the crib, his massive frame casting a shadow over the small, sleeping form. His claws hovered mere inches from the baby’s chest, but his hand trembled. This was Poseidon’s child. He could smell it clear as day, better than any other monster before him. Odysseus was practically made to murder Poseidon’s children, his very being honed to track them down and kill them, so why was he hesitating–? 

Lightning flashed, the light reflecting off shiny words on the crib’s backboard. Painted above the baby’s head in streaky gold paint was the name Penelope.

His breath hitched. He blinked, his monstrous form stilling as though time itself had paused. Reaching out a hand, he touched his wife’s name. “Penelope?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough from disuse. He said it again, this time louder, as though speaking the name would summon a ghost from his past. “Penelope.”

The child stirred in sleep, her tiny face scrunching as if disturbed by the sound.

He could barely think over the ocean of blood rushing in his ears. Poseidon’s child was named after his wife. Had he…? Was this a deliberate offense or mockery? Had Poseidon named the child after her to taunt him, to twist the knife of his losses deeper? Or… his crimson gaze turned to the mother. Was this her doing?

Did she think naming her child after his wife would stay his hand?

Worse of all, was it working? 

Odysseus knelt, his monstrous form folding into itself, making him seem smaller, almost human. He stared at the child who bore his wife’s name, his mind warring with itself. The rage that had sustained him for decades demanded he finish the task. But… Penelope. 

[pin-k-ink]

THE PRICE OF DUTY ⋆✦⋆ kuchiki byakuya

synopsis ➸ they agreed on a marriage without love. too bad neither of them could keep their hearts out of it. now, pride and desire are the only things standing in the way.

tags ➸ marriage of convenience, power imbalance, verbal aggression, angst, hurt/comfort, masturbation, handjob, nipple play, dirty talk, heavy breeding kink, cunnilingus, unprotécted séx, creampie, praise kink

wc ➸ 17.6k (apologies in advance)

The bedroom was cloaked in stillness, the only sound the faint whisper of your steady breathing. Byakuya couldn't tear his eyes away from you, lying there fast asleep beside him. Even in slumber, you radiated an almost regal poise - back straightened by years of disciplined nobility, features composed into a serene mask of quiet confidence.

Just looking at you was enough to stir that familiar ache in Byakuya's chest. The one he tried so hard to suppress these days, burying it beneath the responsibilities and traditions he clung to like anchors in a stormy sea. But the truth was becoming harder and harder to ignore with each passing night spent at your side.

He was in love with you. Hopelessly, painfully, desperately in love.

The realization would have been terrifying enough on its own. But the true fracture in Byakuya's stolid facade came from the fact that after nearly a century of sharing this marriage bed and household with you...he remained utterly uncertain whether you returned even a shred of those feelings.

Your union had been one of pure pragmatism from the very start, after all - a business arrangement between the Kuchiki and your clan, nothing more. Two proud noble houses joined by political motivations rather than any sense of romantic affection or sentimentality. You had both agreed to those terms readily, never wavering in upholding the boundaries of polite cordiality between married partners.

No consummation or intimacy beyond the bare minimum required for public appearance's sake. Only the singular, chaste kiss exchanged during the ceremonial binding of your vows all those decades ago. An unspoken acknowledgment that this convenient partnership held no deeper meaning.

At least, that was what Byakuya had believed when you had first agreed to the arrangement. He would be lying if he claimed the idea hadn't stung a bit back then, still haunted by the ghost of his beloved Hisana even years after her passing. But you had been his dearest friend since childhood, his confidante and the one person who understood the heavy mantle of duty both of you carried.

If this rational partnership was the way to honor your family obligations while still retaining that precious bond...well, Byakuya had accepted it as a worthwhile compromise.

Until now, that was.

Now, as he stared at the delicate rise and fall of your chest with each quiet inhalation...as he drank in the elegant line of your throat and the slightly parted serenity of your lips...Byakuya found his carefully constructed walls of restraint crumbling like sodden papier-mâché in the deluge.

He ached to reach out and caress the soft skin of your cheek with the barest whisper of his fingertips. To bestow the kind of tender, adoring touch two people intimately bound were supposed to share without condition or self-imposed barriers. Most of all, he burned with the need to finally, finally lean across that maddening divide and capture your lips with his own in a searing release of all the wanting he’d silently endured for decades.

The thought caused a familiar flare of heat to spread through Byakuya's core, settling like molten embers in his loins as his eyes raked shamelessly across your sleeping form. How many times had he lain awake just like this, jaw clenched and fists knotted in the sheets as his tortured mind supplied increasingly vivid fantasies of what your body might feel like pressed against his? Of the breathy gasps and unraveling expressions he could tease from your features with each doting caress and sinuous shift of intimate, tangled limbs?

Countless. The answer was countless, relentless iterations - each more depraved and indulgent than the last.

Sometimes, in his most lascivious reveries, Byakuya allowed himself to picture taking you fully and completely as his wedded wife in truth. Of burying his aching length within your welcoming heat over and over until your hoarse cries painted the very air itself with ecstasy. Of feeling your nails scoring fire along the straining cords of his back as he devoted every ounce of himself to mapping your body's every secret erogenous plateau with fervent, open-mouthed worship.

He fantasized about losing himself so deeply in the throes of your shared passions that even coherent thought became an impossibility. About giving himself over to that feral, primal part of his soul that sang for nothing more than to claim you, ravish you, seed you with his issue in the most profane yet somehow sacred of acts.

Byakuya's breath caught in his throat as he felt the telltale stirrings of arousal needling at his groin, precipitated by those wanton daydreams that always seemed to slither in unannounced. He clenched his jaw hard enough for the tendons to strain in his neck, fighting off the growing urge to reach down and alleviate the steadily blooming ache with his own hand.

Because he knew that would only be a temporary balm, one that failed to come anywhere close to satiating the true source of this fevered, all-consuming hunger. The one solution that remained stubbornly, infuriatingly out of his reach due to years and years of accepted boundaries and ingrained propriety between you both.

In the end, Byakuya settled for clenching the bedsheets in a white-knuckled grip until his quickened breaths evened out and the lancing jolts of desire settled into a steady, smoldering thrum. All the while, his eyes remained resolutely trained on your sleeping figure, hungrily cataloging every detail as if it were the first and final time he would be permitted such an unguarded view.

Like every night preceding this one, Byakuya would persevere in silent, aching torment rather than risk shattering the delicately restrained dynamic you had both sworn yourselves to upholding. No matter how corrosive the fires of ardor raging within him might become.

He was the head of the Kuchiki Clan, after all, steeped in honor and tradition down to his very marrow. To act on these deviant urges, to forsake the promise you had made and the boundaries you both tacitly agreed to all those years ago...it would be an unforgivable, disgraceful surrender to weakness.

No matter how much his soul screamed for the exquisite release of reciprocated intimacy and desire, he would remain steadfast. Even if it meant suffering the agonizing pangs of perpetual, unrequited yearning until his dying breath.

At least, those were the maudlin affirmations Byakuya kept repeating in a desperate internal mantra as his eyes finally drifted closed, immense weariness settling over him like a shroud. Tomorrow, he would bury these tumultuous cravings once more, as he had every single day preceding this ill-fated descent into torturous infatuation.

But tonight...tonight, he would allow himself to indulge in the exquisite agony of loving you from afar for just a little while longer. To burn with smoldering embers of infinite wanting that may very well consume him entirely if left to their own insatiable devices much longer.

Byakuya's eyes fluttered open to the pale light of dawn filtering through the bedroom window. He blinked a few times, momentarily disoriented, before the soft sounds of movement from the adjoining bathroom brought everything sharply into focus.

You were awake already, no doubt freshening up and preparing for the day ahead like the steadfastly disciplined woman you were. Just the thought of you sent a flicker of heat stirring low in Byakuya's belly.

Almost of its own volition, his gaze drifted down to the tent his morning wood had pitched beneath the sheets pooled around his waist. He bit back a groan, simultaneously aroused and dismayed by his body's instinctive reaction.

For nearly a century, he'd been waking up like this more often than not - cock straining eagerly against the fabric restraints, aching and full just from the promise of another day spent in your maddening proximity. At this point, Byakuya had lost count of how many times he'd been forced to silently take himself in hand and reduce the swollen, throbbing length to a pitiful, dribbling spent mess while imagining it was your tight clenching heat milking him instead of his calloused palm.

Lost track of the mornings where he'd emerged from heated fantasies of pinning you beneath him and driving into that welcoming slick over and over, relishing your desperate whimpers and pleas for more echoing off the bedroom walls. Or the ones where he bent you over the closest surface and took you from behind like a lust-crazed beast, savoring the sight of his cock disappearing into that perfect, dripping cunt again and again.

Byakuya shuddered hard, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white. Even now, those filthy thoughts and scenarios were playing out in vivid detail in his mind's eye, stoking his desire into an insistent throbbing demand.

The soft click of the bathroom door sliding open jolted him from his indecent reverie. You stepped out, already dressed and regarding him with that carefully neutral expression you always wore.

"Good morning," you greeted him simply, as if he wasn't lying there with a painfully obvious erection tenting the sheets. As if the two of you were little more than casual acquaintances rather than husband and wife.

"Good morning," Byakuya replied stiffly, voice rougher than usual with pent-up arousal. He watched, throat tightening, as your gaze pointedly dropped to his lap before you arched one brow delicately.

"Need a hand taking care of that?" You nodded towards his straining arousal. "I am your wife, after all, even if only in name. Assisting with such...needs...falls within the parameters of our arrangement."

The clinical way you referred to what could be an incredibly intimate physical connection made something twist viciously in Byakuya's gut. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together.

"That won't be necessary," he bit out, shoving the sheets aside to rise from the bed - utterly uncaring about putting his prominent erection on display. Let you get an eyeful of what you'd spent decades neglecting despite calling yourself his wife. "I'm more than capable of taking care of this on my own as usual."

Your lips pressed into a thin line at his rebuff, eyes following the rigid length jutting obscenely from the nest of dark curls as he brushed past you towards the bathroom. There was a flicker of something in your gaze - curiosity, perhaps, or fleeting interest quickly smothered.

Just before he slid the door shut behind himself, Byakuya paused and glanced back at you over his shoulder. "Though I appreciate the courtesy of looking after my basic needs, you needn't feel obligated on that front," he stated gruffly. "I have no expectations of you as a wife beyond maintaining the appearances of our political union."

The words were a lie, and you both knew it based on how your eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Byakuya didn't give you a chance to respond. He shut himself in the bathroom, turning the lock with a decisive click as he leaned back against the door and shoved his hakama the rest of the way down his hips.

His cock sprang free, achingly hard and leaking at the tip already from his frustrated arousal. Byakuya wasted no time in wrapping a firm hand around the throbbing shaft, biting back a groan as he started to stroke himself with harsh, efficient tugs.

Closing his eyes, he instantly conjured vivid fantasies to chase his release. Of bending you over the bathroom vanity and driving into that tight, dripping heat from behind with punishing thrusts. Of your cries of pleasure echoing off the tile walls as you begged him to fuck you harder, deeper, to fill you with his seed over and over.

Byakuya's pace sped up as the scenarios played out in excruciating detail in his mind. He could almost feel your nails scoring down his back, hear your gasping moans right against his ear as he claimed you with carnal, undignified abandon.

All these decades, he'd been starving for you. Craving the feeling of his cock stretching you open on that first delicious thrust, of your feminine heat convulsing so perfectly around his rigid length as you came apart beneath his relentless pursuit of release.

With a harsh grunt, Byakuya's hips stuttered forward as he spilled his release over his pumping fist and dripping onto the polished wood below. Orgasm ripped through him in searing waves, so intense yet still pitifully unsatisfying without the real thing to chase.

When the last tremors subsided, Byakuya opened his eyes and stared numbly at the sticky mess rapidly cooling on his skin and the floor. As always, the brief moment of physical relief brought with it a crushing loneliness as he was reminded that no matter how vivid his imagination, it would never compare to the transcendent bliss of experiencing those intimate acts with his actual wife.

With you, his best friend, his equal and confidante in every sense of the word. The only person who knew him more intimately than he knew himself.

The one person eternally off limits due to the terms of the loveless marriage you had both so willingly entered into a century ago.

Byakuya cleaned himself up quickly, shoving the aching tangle of desires back into their solitary cell for the time being. When he finally emerged, you were waiting in the hallway. Likely having heard his muffled sounds of self-pleasure and aware of exactly what he'd been doing behind that closed door.

There was no judgment or recrimination in your expression, though. Just the same measured indifference he'd come to expect regarding the personal boundaries between you two.

"I'm heading to the dining hall for breakfast," you stated calmly, as if nothing untoward had occurred. "Would you care to join me?"

Byakuya stared at you for a long moment, searching for any hint of softness or deeper emotion in your carefully neutral features. As always, he found nothing save his own warped yearnings staring back at him.

"Of course," he replied tonelessly. "Let's not keep Rukia waiting."

Side by side, you fell into step towards the dining hall - closer than mere acquaintances yet separated by impenetrable walls built by years of restraint and propriety.

Byakuya couldn't help stealing sidelong glances at you as you walked, fantasies and urges already stirring anew, ravenous and insatiable as always.

Perhaps one day, when his desire overwhelmed him entirely and his noble resolve crumbled to dust, he would finally succumb to the relentless longings you so effortlessly provoked. But until that day came, he would persevere - waging a silent, never-ending war against his own unrequited needs behind the ever-present mask of indifference.

Even if he burned from the inside out holding true to the boundaries you'd sworn yourselves to so very long ago.

The dining hall was its usual stately quiet when you and Byakuya arrived, the only sounds the soft clink of porcelain and hushed voices of the staff serving the morning meal. You led the way to the head of the long table, back ramrod straight and expression composed into its typical serene mask.

Byakuya followed half a step behind, eyes tracing the elegant line of your neck before flickering away guiltily. He couldn't stop replaying the image of you from earlier, standing there so coolly offering to pleasure him out of some bizarre sense of wifely duty. The thought still made his jaw clench with a confusing swirl of arousal and irritation.

You took your customary seat at the head of the table, back facing the ornate family shrines and ancestral portraits lining the walls. Byakuya settled across from you, stealing another sidelong glance as you delicately arranged your napkin across your lap.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the soft scrape of chopsticks against porcelain as you ate in your usual refined, unhurried manner. Byakuya found himself unable to look away, absently pushing the food around his plate as he studied the slope of your nose, the fan of dark lashes brushing your cheeks with every deliberate blink.

"Is the meal not to your liking this morning, dear?" you murmured without looking up, using the affectionate term for 'husband' out of propriety despite the distinct lack of warmth behind it.

Byakuya started slightly at being addressed so directly. "No...the meal is fine," he replied gruffly. "My mind was simply...elsewhere."

Your lips curved in the barest hint of a knowing smile before you returned your attention to your half-empty bowl of rice. "I see. Well, do try to join me in the present for at least a few moments. I wish to discuss some matters pertaining to the upcoming council meeting with the elders."

And just like that, the veneer of the poised noblewoman and clan leader was firmly back in place. You launched into a succinct overview of the agenda items and your proposed positions, speaking in that same clipped, matter-of-fact tone that always made Byakuya's chest ache for reasons he could never put words to.

It was so eerily reminiscent of how his grandfather used to strategize and plan, never allowing anything as frivolous as emotional attachments or indulgent fancies to cloud his judgment regarding the clan's best interests. An echo of the same pragmatic adherence to duty and custom above all else that the Kuchiki advisors had no doubt admired in you so ardently when suggesting this marriage all those decades ago.

You were the ideal partner from their skewed perspective - unflinchingly devoted to preserving the clan's power and noble heritage with the same ruthless single-mindedness as the most stringent of the elders. No distractions, no silly romantic dalliances to clutter your focus or judgment when it came to the matters that truly mattered.

Byakuya swallowed thickly at the realization, fighting a wave of bitterness. Was that all he would ever be to you? Another piece on the chessboard of responsibilities and lineage maintenance rather than an equal partner to share your life with? The thought settled like a leaden knot in the pit of his stomach.

He was roused from his brooding reverie by the sound of the dining room door sliding open. Rukia bustled in, the youthful glow of her features at odds with the weary lines of strain carved between her brows.

"Pardon my tardiness, nii-sama, [Y/N]-dono," she said by way of greeting, bowing slightly as she hurried to take her usual seat beside Byakuya. "I was finishing up some paperwork for Captain Ukitake."

"It's quite alright, Rukia," you replied, the barest hint of maternal warmth tingeing your tone in a way Byakuya had only ever witnessed when addressing his adopted sister. "Please, help yourself. We were just discussing the upcoming clan affairs."

Byakuya watched in guarded silence as the two most important women in his world interacted with far more open affection than he had ever experienced from you. Despite your composed decorum, there was an unmistakable softness suffusing your features as you guided Rukia through the meeting notes with the same patient attentiveness he always admired about you.

It only served to reinforce the ugly, thorny resentment taking root in his chest over the detached, clinical treatment you reserved solely for him by comparison. Even now, after so many years walking in the minutely inhabited sphere of your marriage, you remained this untouchable, unknowable enigma behind an impenetrable wall of propriety. A cold, regal mystery that seemed destined to forever elude his ability to breach it no matter how fervently he yearned to.

"Speaking of important clan affairs," Rukia ventured after swallowing a bite of egg. "When do you two intend to begin the process of securing the next Kuchiki heir?"

Her innocent query hung in the air like a lead balloon as the temperature in the room seemed to plummet ten degrees instantaneously. Byakuya felt his spine stiffen, heart pounding as he cut his eyes towards you guardedly.

Your features betrayed not a single flicker of discomfort, perfectly smooth and implacable as you gathered your words to deliver the expected politic non-answer with surgical precision.

"There are no immediate plans to address providing a successor within our marriage, Rukia," you stated, each syllable clipped with familiar indifference. "Should the clan elders deem it relevant in the future, Byakuya and I will of course uphold our duties. But for now, it remains a non-issue."

The icy formality with which you brushed aside such a deeply personal matter grated on Byakuya's nerves. He could practically feel the gnashing, clawing hunger inside him rearing up in protest.

'It's always just "duties" and "obligations" with her. As if the thought of lying with me, making a child together, doesn't stir even a flicker of longing beyond cold calculations...'

He carefully schooled his features into an imperious mask as he turned his attention to Rukia, not quite able to mask the edge of rebuke in his tone. "You heard my wife. We will address the matter of an heir when the clan leadership sees fit to make it a priority for us."

'My gorgeous, maddening wife who remains as untouchable as a desert mirage no matter how feverishly I burn for her touch...'

Rukia shrank back slightly at the undercurrent of tension she could no doubt sense thickening the air between her brother and sister-in-law. She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or simply ask another ill-advised question.

But you smoothly cut her off, ever the picture of aristocratic poise despite the hint of challenge flickering behind your gaze as it locked with Byakuya's.

"There's no need to make too much on the subject any further this morning, Rukia," you said evenly, perfectly level save for the barest undercurrent of steel woven through each syllable. "We have larger matters of importance regarding the clan's future to focus our discussion on."

'Once again, she deflects—just as she always does when the conversation nears the unspoken voids in our marriage. The empty spaces I long to fill with the genuine intimacy of a true partnership in every sense.'

The unspoken challenge simmered between you, charging the atmosphere with an electric tang that seemed to crackle along Byakuya's heated skin. He opened his mouth, some part of him aching to cut through the dense fog of pretense and avoidance and lay everything bare in that moment—

'I want her so badly it feels like there's a roaring furnace consuming me from the inside out at all times. My own wife, and yet she remains the singular source of torment and unfulfilled desire that may very well raze me to ashes before I draw my next breath—'

"Well!" Rukia's overly-bright tone sliced through the fraught silence like a klaxon blast. She was already half-risen from her seat, gaze pinging uncertainly between the two of you. "I can see this is a...rather delicate conversation I've stumbled into. I'll just go ahead and give you two some space to discuss things...privately."

She paused as if awaiting either an agreement or dismissal, but your attention remained utterly arrowed upon Byakuya. He held your stare levelly, hoping his eyes at least betrayed a fraction of the rawness currently scorching through his veins.

'Look at me, damn you—see the wretched, lust-crazed state you’ve left me in after decades of relentless yearning. The unraveling of every noble restraint I’ve forced upon myself in the name of restraint and duty.'

There was no retreat or softening in your inscrutable mask as the weighted seconds ticked by in suffocating stillness. Finally, Rukia made a small noise of surrender and simply excused herself, the shoji door sliding shut behind her in a dissonant clap of finality.

You and Byakuya were finally alone with the inexorable gauntlet lying between you thrumming with all the pent-up intensity of embers slowly fanning to life. A conflagration they both knew could either be extinguished with cold resolution once more...or finally permitted to immolate every fragile, artificial barrier separating you in one searing, cataclysmic release.

The weighted silence stretched between you, palpable and loaded like a tripwire primed for detonation at the slightest provocation. Byakuya's grip tightened fractionally on the edge of the table, jaw flexing as he struggled to maintain his veneer of implacable stoicism.

Inwardly, he felt like a treacherous inferno was raging barely restrained – one he'd been ruthlessly fighting to smother for decades upon decades. The searing licks of unanswered desire and unrequited ardor scalding through his veins each time you so much as met his stare, reminding him of every scorching fantasy he'd indulged regarding his wife.

His beautiful, untouchable wife who remained irritatingly oblivious to the all-consuming obsession slowly unraveling him from the inside out.

You arched one elegant brow, the picture of regal poise and control despite the fraught undercurrents swirling around you. "Is there a problem, dear?" you asked coolly, each syllable clipped with that familiar indifference.

Byakuya felt his throat constrict at the clinical detachment in your tone. A large part of him – the darkly primal, starved facet he'd been denying for far too long – ached to shed every last shred of pretense in that moment. To unburden himself of the ravenous truth gnawing away at the very foundations of his sanity like a relentless psychic parasite.

That he loved you, truly and desperately in spite of the pragmatic circumstances binding your marriage. That every fiber of his being howled to sear the boundaries you'd sworn between you into ash so he could finally slake his depraved thirst upon your flesh. To kiss you, take you as his wife in actuality, to make you cry out his name in rapture as he buried himself to the hilt over and over in that welcoming, scalding heat reserved only for him.

In the end, what emerged past Byakuya's gritted teeth was a mere fraction of that roiling, consuming truth.

"None, wife." He fought not to let his voice betray the barest tremor, but couldn't quite keep the roughened edges from scraping against each word. “Simply… reflecting on this morning’s discussion.”

You regarded him through narrowed eyes for a long beat, clearly sensing the evasive dishonesty behind his clipped reply. When you spoke again, a hint of that same challenge he'd glimpsed earlier bled through the deceptively mild lilt of your words.

"I see," you murmured, lips pursing in a subtle moue that Byakuya tried desperately not to fixate upon. "Well, should you need to...reflect anything further, you know where to find me, dear."

The blatant undercurrent of suggestion in that final endearment was like a lightning strike directly to Byakuya's groin. He shifted unconsciously on the cushion, fighting a full-body shudder as a shockwave of white-hot arousal detonated through his core. The mere thought of you extending such a brazen overture, of allowing him to indulge those perverse compulsions he'd kept on a punishingly tight leash for over a century.

It took every ounce of Byakuya's legendary self-restraint not to surge across the short distance separating you and seize your smaller frame against his body right then and there. He could practically envision it – the delicious give of those curves molding against the painfully rigid planes of his torso...your sharp inhalations of surprise quickly melting into pliant acceptance as his hands cupped the soft weight of your jaw, tilting your mouth up to finally meet his in a searing, devouring kiss.

The first of countless such shattering embraces he fully intended to worship every inch of your body with before the night was through, untold lifetimes' worth of bottled cravings finally attaining sweet, rapturous release in the most intimate joining of—

"As it happens..."

Byakuya grated out the demurral through a clenched jaw, the sharp consonants punctuated by audible strain. He ruthlessly banished the vivid fantasies, shoving them back into the shadowed recesses of his psyche before they could completely upend his tarnished control like a towering tsunami.

When he lifted his gaze back to yours, the full intensity of his longing had been masked once more behind those impenetrable walls of frigid civility. But the subtle tightening at the corners of his eyes betrayed the staggering effort it took to keep those virulent compulsions leashed.

"I just realized I have a few matters requiring my attention in the clan archives this afternoon," he continued tonelessly. "But I will see you again later this evening, [Y/N]."

The words held a pregnant pause, unspoken but no less palpable for the weight carried between them. They both knew the undercurrents simmering below the surface could only be ignored or avoided for so long before the dam finally ruptured in spectacular fashion.

Tonight may very well be when those relentless, rising tides finally crested and swept away every carefully constructed barrier fortifying the hollows between your souls.

You seemed to grasp the implications as well from the minute tightening around your eyes and the measured rise of your chest. But you simply inclined your head in a regal, understated acknowledgment.

"Very well. Don't let me keep you from those...pressing archive matters, my love." The intimate endearment seemed to drip from your tongue with heavier insinuation this time, rife with unspoken challenges and the potential for upheavals to come. "I'll be...keeping myself equally occupied until then."

With that final subtle barb lancing straight through his composure, you turned and swept from the dining hall in a billow of silk and unshakable poise. Byakuya watched your departure through a creeping haze of spiraling arousal and quietly simmering outrage.

Tonight, the shattering culmination of this exquisite torture between you would finally reach its tipping point – one way or another.

For both your sakes, he prayed fervently that you would choose the path of brutal honesty and passion when you inevitably collided once more. For he wasn't certain his beleaguered restraints could withstand another evening of needless, self-inflicted torment at your measured hands.

Not without snapping completely and simply...taking what he'd starved for all along, propriety be damned.

Night had long since fallen over the Kuchiki estate, blanketing the ornate gardens and walkways in velvety darkness. Byakuya made his way through the winding corridors towards the bedroom he shared with you, footsteps muffled against the woven tatami.

As he approached the carved wooden door, he couldn't help but slow his gait infinitesimally. Each measured step seemed to carry a strange, leaden weight - like he was being pulled along by an inexorable gravitational force rather than propelling himself by conscious will.

The soft sounds of movement filtering through the door only intensified that sensation, raising the fine hairs along the back of Byakuya's neck in a rippling wave of heightened awareness. He knew without needing to be told that you were inside, likely preparing for bed or some other nightly routine.

Just the thought of you undressed or partially disrobed in those private chambers you shared was enough to spark a dull, insistent flare of heat coiling low in Byakuya's belly. He grit his teeth against the reflexive rush, silently cursing the towering lack of restraint chipping away at his noble reserves with each passing year.

This was his wife - his childhood friend, his respected equal through every twist and tribulation life had thrown their way over the decades. Under no circumstances should he allow his thoughts to linger on such depravities and urges unfitting for the partner fate had inexplicably bound him to.

And yet, as Byakuya's hand finally wrapped around the polished wooden latch, he couldn't quite smother the vivid images scorching through his consciousness. Of you standing there disheveled and deliciously rumpled from slumber...loose sleeping yukata slipping invitingly off one shoulder to bare tantalizing hints of the feminine curves lying just beneath...

He shook his head sharply, irritation flaring as he ruthlessly banished the inappropriate fantasies. This pointless internal struggle against his baser impulses was quickly becoming exhausting in the most demoralizing sense of the word. Steeling himself, Byakuya slid the door open and stepped across the threshold with his usual implacable confidence.

You stood beside the ornate vanity, hands resting against the lacquered surface as your head turned fractionally at his entrance. Your lips parted as if to speak but whatever greeting might have tumbled forth stilled on your tongue as you took in Byakuya's rigid, almost brittle poise standing there.

For several suspended heartbeats, the two of you simply appraised one another in thick, weighty silence. Byakuya's jaw clenched hard enough for his molars to grind as his eyes traced the artfully tousled tumble of your soft tresses...the plush swell of those lips still parted in a delicious moue of surprise...the exquisite cut of bare collarbones teasing at the shadowed hints of cleavage peeking through the loose drape of your robe.

You were the very picture of artless, slumberous beauty in that moment. And Byakuya felt the ravenous ache of deprivation howling through him at the mere thought of reaching out to caress so much of that inoxicatingly soft, warm skin as had been steadfastly denied him for decades upon decades of their hollow union.

That single, maddening compulsion threatened to shatter the last tattered threads holding his civilized veneer together in one reckless surge of motion. He nearly staggered beneath the crushing tides of wanting, of pure visceral need clawing up from where he'd ruthlessly shoved it down for far too long.

"Byakuya?" Your voice cut through the thick, heated haze swirling in his mind - low and slightly rough from disuse. "Is...everything alright?"

He blinked sluggishly, realizing that in his momentary lapse of control, he hadn't so much as shifted from where he stood frozen on the threshold. Simply remained there, gripped motionless in the throes of that overwhelming flood of longing like a man stumbling across a poisonous serpent mid-coil.

When Byakuya finally found his voice, it emerged with slightly more strain laced around the edges than he would have preferred.

"Yes," he bit out tersely, still rooted there as if held in place by the forbidding gravity well of your presence alone. "I simply...was not expecting you to still be awake at this hour."

It wasn't quite an apology or excuse for his unseemly lapse, but it was enough to prompt you into action. You turned more fully towards him, clasping the sumptuous folds of your sleeping robe tighter like shielding armor against his searching eyes.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you anytime soon tonight," you countered evenly, that same subtle edge of challenge gilding each word like a barely-there blade's caress. "But since you're here now..."

You trailed off, the lingering unspoken invitation hanging pregnant between you like a looming storm front. Byakuya felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides, nails biting half-moons into his palms as his body reacted with visceral sensitivity to even the barest implications from your lips.

"I did not mean to keep you waiting," he murmured after another fraught pause. "Merely...following your earlier suggestion regarding matters requiring further processing between us, that's all."

The corners of your lips quirked upwards for the span of a solitary breath, infinitely knowing and dripping with unsubtle implication. Your tongue darted out to graze across that full lower swell for a scant second, the entirely unconscious motion searing itself across Byakuya's retinas like a brand.

"I see," you hummed lightly, gaze flicking deliberately up and down the rigid lines of Byakuya's form in a leisurely, measuring perusal. “Well, don’t let me keep you from unpacking those heavy thoughts any longer, dear. If I remember correctly, I did say I’d be available if you need any further processing.”

The taut, loaded silence stretched between you like a tightrope pulled to its breaking point. Byakuya felt the insistent thrum of his heartbeat thundering in his ears as he appraised you – still achingly tempting despite the guarded set of your shoulders.

He allowed his gaze to deliberately roam the elegant lines of your robe-draped figure one more time. Drinking in the visual splendor of soft, silken fabric pooling in artful disarray to reveal teasing flashes of skin. The delicate hollow at the base of your throat where your pulse fluttered with each subtle inhalation. The careless tangle of tresses he longed to rake his fingers through and thoroughly dishevel.

When his silver-eyed stare at last found yours again, the hunger simmering in those smoldering depths must have been plain for you to discern. Because you visibly stilled, lips parting around a nearly imperceptible hitch of breath as color bloomed high on your cheekbones.

Byakuya didn't miss the way your eyes cut away, unable to fully meet the unguarded intensity blazing in his own. A flicker of something like uncertainty crossed your features before the impassive mask slipped seamlessly back into place. But that single infinitesimal crack in your unflappable poise was all it took for the first tiny ember to ignite deep in his chest.

"You're right," he stated, the low rasp of his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic roughness that caused your lashes to flutter involuntarily. "There are...significant matters still requiring discussion between us. Issues that demand brutal honesty if there's to be any hope of processing them properly."

Moving with an unhurried, measured gait, Byakuya crossed the polished floor until mere feet separated you. At this proximity, he could detect the clean floral notes of your favorite soaps mingling with that subtle feminine musk unique to you alone. Headier and more intoxicating than any finely aged sake he'd ever indulged in.

You watched his slow approach with guarded attentiveness, throat bobbing convulsively as you fought not to retreat further. When he halted just shy of your personal space, you finally found your voice again.

"And what sorts of brutally honest discussions did you have in mind?" You arched one shapely brow, feigning nonchalance despite the sharp edges now gilding your words. "Nothing too untoward or...unbecoming for a noble lady such as myself, I should hope."

Byakuya didn't take the bait, refusing to be drawn into your familiar dance of evasion and veiled deflections. He simply canted his head slightly, cataloguing the minute shifts in your expression as he let the weighted silence drag out between you once more.

This was the closest they'd stood since that night, decades ago, when they had tentatively exchanged the customary ceremonial kiss to bind their vows in front of the clan elders. He could still remember the barest ghost of friction from your lips brushing his in that clinical, detached facsimile of greater intimacies to come.

The recollection sparked a sudden visceral pang in Byakuya's chest, like lancing open an old suture left to fester for far too long. He frowned, unable to suppress the melancholy ache bleeding into his tone.

"Do you remember the first time we embraced as children?" The words slipped out unbidden, scarcely above a murmur yet somehow carrying the crushing weight of ages across the limited distance separating your bodies. “Not just a casual gesture for appearance’s sake, but a genuine, heartfelt expression of familial affection, freely given?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the seeming non-sequitur. But when you spoke again, it was with a calculated indifference cloaking whatever genuine emotion may have flickered beneath.

"If I'm meant to recall some specific childhood incident, you'll have to be more clear." You tilted your chin up a fraction, holding Byakuya's searching stare levelly. "My memories are not necessarily as adept at trifling nostalgic reminiscences."

The bald dismissal felt like a slap, uncoiling the first lashes of frustrated irritation across Byakuya's composure. His expression hardened further as he stepped fully into your personal space, the heat radiating from your proximities suddenly suffocating rather than tempting.

"Don't play coy, [Y/N]," he bit out, each consonant ground out through gritted teeth. "You remember as well as I the intimacies we used to share – meaningless trivialities in your estimation, perhaps, but cherished moments to my recollection."

He paused, gaze raking hungrily over the delicate fan of your lashes, the subtle part of those lush lips as they parted around a sudden inhalation of breath. Seemingly despite yourself, you had leaned infinitesimally closer as he spoke, drawn in by either his proximity or the naked emotion lacing his words.

"Back then, you were not simply my dearest friend," Byakuya continued, voice lowering to an intimate rumble thick with layered history and complex longing. "You were my other half, the twin flame to my own restless spirit. We shared every precious childhood intimacy two souls could experience together – long embraces, whispered secrets, all those small yet infinitely meaningful expressions of vulnerability and trust between kindred beings."

He lifted a hand as if to reach out and cradle the elegant line of your jaw. To forge that physical connection he suddenly ached for with an intensity that stole what little air remained between you. But at the last second, rigid self-restraint locked his muscles, leaving his fingertips hovering just shy of actually making contact.

"And now..." His voice caught minutely on the hushed syllable, lashes dipping as he marshaled his next words through a tangle of tangled regrets and denied yearnings. "After nearly a century of keeping our marriage bound solely by hollow ceremony and obligation...I can scarcely recall the last time we even indulged a simple, meaningless human touch between us outside of obligation."

Byakuya's eyes slitted open again, finding yours with heated focus like answering a siren's call. The anguish and naked vulnerability burning in those mercurial depths very nearly stole your breath completely.

"Tell me, wife..." His fingertips finally skimmed the slope of your jaw in a scarcely-there caress, coaxing an audible hitch from your lips. "When did we become such utter, desolate strangers to one another?"

Your expression shifted almost imperceptibly at Byakuya's hushed accusation, lips pressing into a thin line as you visibly bristled. When you spoke again, the bald undercurrent of challenge lashing through each syllable nearly stung with its sudden force.

"Don't you dare try laying this at my feet," you stated in a low, clipped tone that brooked no argument. "Need I remind you who approached me with the suggestion of a political marriage all those years ago?"

Byakuya felt his own jaw tighten at the barb, even as a niggling sense of rightful chastisement niggled beneath the knee-jerk defensiveness flaring in his chest. You weren't wrong - he had been the one to initially float the idea of binding your ancient bloodlines through marriage, albeit couched in pragmatic inevitability rather than the least hint of amorous intent.

Your eyes narrowed, no doubt catching the fractional tells betraying his momentary concession. "That's right, I didn't think so," you continued coolly. "If I recall, the proposal involved an explicitly loveless arrangement focused solely on satisfying our family obligations through a legitimate legal partnership."

You paused, sweeping an imperious look up and down Byakuya's increasingly taut form. The full curve of your lips twisted in a wry moue, somehow both condescending and undeniably enticing all at once.

"An arrangement to which I readily agreed in good faith, never once expressing any...unreasonable expectations of deeper intimacies being involved." The final words carried an undercurrent of acidic rebuke that felt like the silk cords binding your marital pact tightening to noose-point around Byakuya's windpipe. "Unlike some, it seems."

The implication lanced straight through the last vestiges of Byakuya's carefully crafted affectations of stoicism like a red-hot branding iron. He recoiled slightly at the unveiled slight, shoulders squaring in blatant affront.

"Do not presume to cast my perspective as 'unreasonable expectations', wife," he growled, using the archaic title like a challenge rather than a term of endearment. "I have done nothing if not honor our agreement to the absolute letter these past decades, no matter how..."

He trailed off, fighting a sudden upswing of emotion clogging his throat like an iron fist. When he spoke again, the words emerged ragged and whetted against the sandpaper grind of barely restrained frustration.

"No matter how infinitely empty that hollow, affectionless existence has left me feeling inside," Byakuya rasped. “You claim to have fulfilled our ‘arrangement’ to the letter. Yet, I must take issue with such blatant dishonesty regarding the implicit matters you have so grievously neglected in your duties as my spouse!”

It was your turn to visibly bristle at his implied slight. You straightened infinitesimally, chin tilting up in blatant affront as a flash of genuine anger sparked behind the impassive facade.

"Duties?" you parroted with blistering sarcasm. "Please, elaborate further about which of my daily responsibilities running this entire household and clan I've allowed to fall so woefully short."

Byakuya crossed the final distance between you in a few heated strides, stopping just shy of your personal space and pinning you in place with the sheer barely-restrained force of his towering presence. Close enough to feel the coiled heat smoldering between your bodies, yet still maintaining that hair's breadth of respect keeping you from true physical contact.

"Your role as noble matron of this clan may be perfect," he rumbled lowly, unable to fully keep an edge of bitter ire from leeching into the words. "But your performance as my wife leaves everything to be desired, if we're speaking with such brutal honesty."

Tension coiled and crackled between you at the unveiled slight - the first volley fired across the bow of what rapidly felt like an inevitable descent into the uglier side of marital confrontation. You bristled even further, eyes flashing in a way that should not have set off such visceral sparks of perverse interest ricocheting through Byakuya's core.

"How dare you question my devotion to upholding this marriage!" The words finally detonated from your lips in a low growl, lush and vibrating with barely leashed outrage. "I have remained a consummate and steadfast partner to you in every way we agreed upon from the very start—"

"Except where it counts most, or so it would seem!"

The retort burst forth from Byakuya before he could fully leash it, reverberation through the hushed air between you with enough resonant impact to finally silence your heated tirade. His chest heaved with increasingly ragged pants as the blistering splinters of accusation began spilling unchecked past his lips - the first cracks in centuries' worth of emotional artifice and restraint finally fracturing past the breaking point.

“You behave as though hiding this loveless charade behind empty ceremony and detachment absolves you of any responsibility for the intimacy that one should rightly expect from a wife!” He snarled, raking you with a look of such heated hunger and repressed ardor, it very nearly singed your exposed skin. “As if a few meaningless gestures here and there could somehow absolve you of the responsibility to offer genuine emotional sustenance and vulnerability to the man whose name you bear!”

Silence swelled in the wake of his harsh accusations, ripe and viscous enough to scald. Byakuya realized distantly that you had both crossed into uncharted territory - stumbling into the precipice of an argument fueled by long-overdue confrontation in a way he could scarcely recall from your lifetimes shared together.

Part of him felt awash in the foreign exhilaration of finally breaching those banked emotional bulwarks you had both so rigidly maintained over the centuries. Another, smaller voice buried deep within quietly lamented the loss of equilibrium you had strived to preserve no matter the personal cost to your individual souls...

But the expression searing across your features in that suspended moment utterly scattered those introspective whispers to the seven winds. You stared back at Byakuya with an amalgam of shock, indignation, and something else infinitely more complex simmering behind your depthless irises. The sight of which catalyzed a firestorm roaring back to searing life in the deepest chambers of his psyche.

This simmering new crucible awaiting you both...this trial by fire and unleashed anguish and unslaked rapture suddenly coalescing between your mirrored souls...

You were going to burn together with Byakuya at its merciless epicenter, whether you welcomed the cleansing immolation or not. The deciding crucible was whether you both emerged from this transformative conflagration as heartbroken embers or twin flames reforged into something unbreakable and new.

Byakuya's eyes fluttered open, blinking groggily against the pale morning light filtering through the bedroom. Awareness came back in increments - the soft, rumpled bedding tangled around his legs, the subtle floral notes of your shampoo still clinging to the sheets.

And you, lying there mere inches away with your back turned towards him.

Memories of last night's confrontation slammed into Byakuya like a physical blow as he studied the elegant curve of your spine rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He could still hear the words echoing like shards of sharpened obsidian between them.

His bitter accusations that you were failing as a true wife by withholding any semblance of deeper intimacy or vulnerability in their marriage. Your enraged retorts branding him as entitled and unreasonable for expecting you to indulge those unspoken yearnings that he'd sworn from the beginning were never part of your practical agreement.

The knot of residual tension coiled fresh in Byakuya's gut as those echoes ricocheted through his consciousness again. Part of him still simmered with righteous indignation at how swiftly you'd dismissed his anguished confessions as nothing more than petulant whining.

After all, what gave you the right to judge the validity of his starvation for a genuine intimate connection in your marriage? One you continually denied him time and time again through your detached aloofness and steadfast refusal to acknowledge anything beyond cold, impersonal obligation between you?

Still, another part of Byakuya felt a pang of remorse as his gaze traced the delicate hills and valleys of your sleeping form. He knew the anger clouding his perceptions last night had been equal parts years' worth of repressed longing boiling over and sheer, virulent desperation to finally breach the icy walls you'd so skillfully constructed around yourself.

Perhaps he had been too rash, too heated in flinging those recriminations at you. Not that the central truth behind them was any less valid or raw after finally being given voice. But now, in the stark sobriety of morning after, some of the barbs and more scathing denouncements rang with an ugliness that Byakuya couldn't help feeling a flicker of regret over.

You began to stir, shoulders rolling back in a slow, languid stretch that momentarily bared the elegant sweep of your neck and collarbones to his rapt stare. Byakuya tried not to fixate too brazenly on the ephemeral glimpses of soft feminine skin emerging and vanishing beneath the shifting fabric.

He really did intend to avert his eyes with some sense of decorum once you'd fully roused. But then your torso twisted, yukata parting wider to afford him an unobstructed vignette of the lush curves barely concealed beneath – the swells of your breasts cradled in silken folds, the shadowed promise of flushed nipple peeking between sheer layers of fabric.

Byakuya's next inhalation stuttered harshly in his throat, every primal instinct searing straight to full readiness. He felt the first telltale stirrings between his thighs as his groin tightened with dull, pulsating interest. The thin bedding rapidly grew stifling, clinging snugly against the burgeoning swell claiming territory there with alarming swiftness.

As if sensing the raw undercurrent of attention suddenly searing you from behind, you turned over fully to face Byakuya with those same heavy-lidded eyes. For a breathless few heartbeats, you simply regarded one another across the scant divide separating your bodies. Byakuya's gaze was instantly, helplessly, snared by the newly exposed swell of cleavage cupped in delicate silk, your breasts rising and falling in tandem with each slow inhalation.

Your head canted infinitesimally, chin dipping in a subtle motion that allowed the yukata to drape lower with each passing second. When your gaze at last lifted and locked onto Byakuya's, there was no mistaking the sultry intensity reflected there – or the fact you had undoubtedly noticed precisely where his attentions were so raptly fixated.

He could have sworn your lips twitched towards the barest ghost of a smirk before your expression smoothed into studied neutrality once more. It was at that precise moment the rumpled bedding chose to further betray Byakuya's state. An unmistakable ridge had pitched itself into stark relief, proudly tenting the cotton in the general vicinity of his increasingly interested groin as his stiffening arousal continued taking form.

The knowing look you slanted his way made it abundantly clear you'd noticed that particular development as well. Byakuya instinctively shifted as if to conceal the obscene display, but your eyes had already traced a molten path down to the disheveled sheets before flickering back up to meet his increasingly flustered stare.

"Need some assistance this morning, husband?" you purred, raw challenge dripping from each perfectly modulated syllable.

Instantly, Byakuya felt his hackles rising at the unblushing acknowledgment of his body's state as well as the brazen implication lacing your words. Of course, on some level this blatant goading shouldn't have necessarily come as a shock – not after the no-holds-barred confrontation last night that felt like a point of no return in stripping away pretenses between you.

Still, your utter ease at addressing such deeply intimate matters so unsubtly sent a complicated slurry of emotions roiling through him. Indignation, carnal intrigue, residual resentment from your earlier dismissals...they all crashed together in a turbulent riptide that very nearly drowned out the capacity for coherent speech entirely.

In the end, what emerged past Byakuya's gritted teeth carried more growl than question.

"And just what sort of 'assistance' did you have in mind, wife?" he bit out tightly.

You didn't so much as flinch at the belligerent edge gilding his words. Simply regarded Byakuya through lowered lashes that framed you in an entrancing play of light and shadow across your delicate features. An infinitesimal pause stretched out before you wet your lips with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue, seemingly savoring the effect the unhurried motion had on Byakuya's locked stare.

"Perhaps..." you began, voice a low, throaty purr that immediately stoked fresh vitality blazing up his spine. "A more...hands-on approach would suffice to meet your needs this morning?"

The thinly veiled overture hung in the air like a lead weight, coaxing Byakuya's breath to stutter anew as you smoothly untucked one hand from beneath the disheveled bedding. His features remained a stolid mask, but you seemed to read the roiling tides of emotion and want churning behind his eyes with unsettling accuracy.

Without preamble, you reached down and firmly grasped the sheets tenting over Byakuya's prominent erection. Your fingers curled around the swollen length, squeezing with just enough pressure to drag a harsh grunt from between his clenched teeth.

"[Y/N]..." he rasped in a low warning, silver eyes blazing. "What do you think you’re doing?"

Rather than answer directly, you simply met his searing stare and began sliding your fist up and down his trapped cock in slow, purposeful strokes. Each languid caress over the rumpled fabric had Byakuya's abdomen clenching, thick shafts of arousal lancing through him with undeniable intensity.

"Isn't this what you accused me of failing at?" you murmured, voice tinged with dark challenge as you twisted your wrist on the next firm upstroke. "Being an attentive, dutiful wife?"

Byakuya's nostrils flared as he fought for composure, every tendon straining against the urge to rut shamelessly into your snug channel of a fist. When he remained stubbornly silent, you leaned in until the suggestion of cleavage peeked from your loosened robe - close enough for him to smell the first faint wafts of your clean, feminine musk.

"Don't try to play coy with me now, dear," you breathed, lips brushing tantalizingly along the sharp ridge of his jaw. "We both know this is exactly what you've been starving for all these years..."

To punctuate the taunting words, you slowed your strokes to an agonizing grind - just the slightest bit of delicious friction to keep Byakuya teetering right on the maddening edge of release and denial. A ragged rumble vibrated up from the depths of his chest as his hips jerked uselessly, chasing that infinitesimal amount of relief.

"I'm waiting for an answer, husband," you husked against the thrumming pulse at his throat. "Is this level of wifely care and attention up to your...standards at last?"

The mockery bled through with clear insinuation, stoking the smoldering embers of Byakuya's restraint into a roaring bonfire. Before he could fully process the action, he had snarled and caught you by the nape - bodily yanking you forward until you collided against his heaving chest.

You gasped at the sudden impact, lips parting in shock as Byakuya crushed your smaller form flush against the unyielding planes of his torso. He glared down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as he struggled to marshal his words.

"Don't think for one second..." He bit out the gravelly syllables like serrated blades. "That I don't see right through this pathetic little tantrum of yours, woman."

Byakuya's hand spanned the curve of your throat, fingertips digging in with unspoken warning as you swallowed audibly against the grip. Your gazes remained locked in pointed challenge, bodies thrumming with every unvoiced slight and bitter grievance still rippling between you in the aftermath of your confrontation.

"If you truly believed indulging me with empty carnal comforts alone was enough to absolve you of being such a useless, frigid wife-" He broke off in a strangled growl as you deliberately ground yourself down against his aching erection. "-then you're even more depraved and clueless than I previously gave you credit for."

There, he'd said it - flung the full brunt of pent-up frustration and accusation straight into your face with nothing left to mince. Let you retaliate or storm away in a huff, he didn't particularly care at this stage. Anything to disrupt this maddening spiral you seemed determined to plunge them both into once and for—

The thought withered in his throat as you abruptly surged forward, claiming Byakuya's parted lips in a punishing kiss that obliterated every shred of higher reasoning from his consciousness. His muffled noise of surprise quickly morphed into a guttural groan as your lithe tongue slid past his slack defenses, exploring the scalding velvet of his mouth with unrestrained ardor.

Then it was his turn to gasp as your hand snaked down underneath the sheets, fisting around the base of his cock and squeezing hard enough to send lightning bolts of rapture searing along every nerve ending. Byakuya bucked mindlessly against you as your tongue and roving palm set an unforgiving rhythm of slick heat and friction designed to thoroughly undo him, piece by agonizing piece.

Through the haze of spiraling ecstasy and bewilderment, he was dimly aware of your other hand tangling in the tumbled lengths of his hair - nails scraping deliciously against his scalp as you held him immobile against the ferocity of your mouth's onslaught. Byakuya simply surrendered himself to the maelstrom, hands roaming across every lush curve he could reach in desperation as you both finally, irrevocably shed every last pretense and barrier fortifying your union.

After what felt like an eternity had lapsed and still was nowhere near fucking enough, you finally tore your lips from Byakuya's with a harsh gasp. Hazy eyes sharpened to glittering diamonds of sheer, unfettered want as you stared into his ravaged expression like a woman beholding her next great conquest splayed out before her.

"Shut up and just take what you've been craving all this time," you husked against his swollen mouth, accent thickened with exertion and challenge. "And maybe I'll consider making an honest man out of you yet..."

The words had barely faded when you wrenched the bedding out of the way, freeing his flushed erection from its confines. The head wept a thin rivulet of pre-come that smeared against your thigh as Byakuya's hips rocked upwards, searching for some semblance of friction to relieve the excruciating need coursing through him.

He groaned deep in his throat when your palm encircled his throbbing shaft, stroking the heated length from tip to base with torturous deliberation. You watched the effect of your ministrations play across his features like a master sculptor studying the progress of her greatest masterpiece - an artistry crafted by the sensual friction of your palm and fingertips and the subtle squeeze of your thumb rolling against his swollen cockhead.

Byakuya could no longer tell how long the exquisite torture lasted. Each languid upstroke had his spine bowing in supplication, the downstroke dragging a guttural cry from somewhere deep within the caverns of his chest. Your touch was an irresistible torment - just the right balance of pressure and friction, a firm twist of your wrist as you reached the base, and the subtle scrape of your blunt nails on the way back up to the sensitive glans.

It was only after his vision began swimming that Byakuya realized his eyes had slipped shut against the deluge of sensation. The moment he forced them open again, you were there, close enough to feel the heat radiating from your naked breasts. Close enough for him to easily lunge forward and catch one plump nipple between his teeth.

Your answering moan reverberated through Byakuya's whole frame, sparking a visceral triumph that he'd finally found something to throw you off balance. He lathed the rosy peak with his tongue, suckling and nibbling until the sensitive bud hardened into a stiff pebble beneath his attention. You whimpered brokenly when he switched his attentions to the other neglected peak, your grip weakening just as the first true shivers of climax began to rack his frame.

The loss of contact dragged a guttural whine from Byakuya, muffled by his lips still fastened around your swollen nipple as his hips bucked up futilely as he searched for your hand or lips or tongue to bring him over the edge. You seemed intent on prolonging the torment, though - fingers sliding down to cradle his aching balls, nails scraping gently against the taut sac.

Byakuya's vision flashed white, entire body jerking as the first surge of release crashed through him. He came with a harsh groan, hot spurts painting his stomach and chest before your hand moved to milk the final drops from his pulsing length, inadvertently gathering the last few, pathetic remnants of his seed onto your hand.

The two of you lay there in the aftermath, chests heaving as the last tremors of release ebbed away. The heated tension that had been simmering between you both for decades evaporated into the heavy, musk-laden air.

You slowly extracted your hand from where it had been firmly gripping Byakuya's spent cock, letting the sticky evidence of his undoing streak across your palm. He watched with hooded eyes as you glanced at the pearly streaks almost distastefully before using the rumpled sheets to wipe it away.

An awkward silence descended as the post-orgasmic haze lifted and you both seemed to fully register what had just transpired between you. After nearly a century of stubbornly denying any deeper intimacies, you had just engaged in unambiguously carnal acts with the sole intent of bringing Byakuya to shattering climax.

And from the way his silver gaze kept roving over the pebbled peak of your breast - slightly reddened and slick from where his mouth had suckled with ravenous intensity - he had indulged just as greedily in whatever flesh you offered up.

Now, in the quiet stillness that followed, you seemed unable to meet Byakuya's eyes as you carefully rearranged your sleep robe over your disheveled form. He could see the faint blush tingeing your cheeks, the tension knotting your shoulders as if bracing for scathing recriminations.

But Byakuya found himself utterly bereft of the capacity for further anger or hostility in that moment. All he felt was a profound sense of...of what exactly? Satiety? Confusion? A complex snarl of emotions too tangled to fully parse in the wake of the cataclysmic shift that had just reshaped their relationship forever.

Eventually, you cleared your throat and slid off the bed, bare feet whispering against the tatami mats as you moved towards the bathroom door.

"I'm going to bathe," you stated simply, voice tightly controlled as you refused to meet his weighted gaze. "We...we can discuss...this...later."

You gestured vaguely with one hand, as if that single ambiguous wave could somehow encapsulate the entirety of what had just occurred between you both. Byakuya watched you slip through the doorway without another word, limbs feeling unaccountably heavy as the silence resettled around him.

Now alone in the aftermath's quiet stillness, he slumped back against the disheveled bedding with a ragged exhalation. His eyes drifted shut as he attempted to process the whirlwind that had just ransacked every carefully constructed barrier and unspoken agreement in their marriage.

The brutally honest confrontation triggered by years of simmering resentments and unvoiced desires...the way you had so deliberately, undeniably provoked him with those lascivious acts in retaliatory challenge...the searing, unraveling rapture of finally indulging in the intimate connection he had starved for from you throughout their union after holding back for so impossibly long...

It had all happened with such cascading swiftness, crashing over them both in a tsunami of unchecked passion that continuing to deny or ignore the fundamental seismic shift between them simply wasn't an option anymore. Not after the boundaries keeping you both so rigidly bound behind those frigid walls had been obliterated so irreparably.

The mocking, heated accusation you'd hurled at Byakuya in between each deftly skilled caress still echoed like smoke-tinged rasp in his mind.

"Shut up and just take what you've been craving all this time...maybe I'll consider making an honest man out of you yet..."

Even in the raw, blistering throes of that confrontation - and the subsequent shattering of every remaining constraint between you - he had never managed to put words to the raging, all-consuming yearning scalding through him. Not in any way that could accurately encapsulate the countless unfulfilled cravings and fevered imaginings he'd harbored deep in his most guarded recesses regarding you.

But now, with the undeniable taste of your skin still clinging to his tongue like a shameless brand...now that the walls restraining your union had crumbled to ash and the foundations left to be rebuilt upon smoldering rubble...

Byakuya could no longer avoid naming the ugly, visceral truth underlying every gnarled facet of his existence as your husband in cold, stark clarity.

He loved you. Utterly, irrevocably, with every fiber of his wretched being in a way that utterly defied the conventions of blood relation or the hollow pretenses you'd both sworn to uphold so rigidly over the years. The realization felt like a physical blow - undoing intricate ribbons of delusion that had kept him stumbling through their union in wretched half-measures and self-denial for far too long.

Byakuya opened his eyes again, throat growing viscously tight as a thousand half-formed recollections began playing out in disjointed succession across his memory. Subtle moments and infinitesimal details that now took on heightened significance in retrospect - illuminating how the towering edifice of his hubris and pride had kept him walled off from acknowledging the deeper truth flourishing beneath even as it festered like an untreated cancer.

Your rare, fleeting smiles that had always unknotted something deep and unreachable within his core...the elegant poise and unshakable pride you carried at all times that never failed to provoke stirrings of perverse, maddening desire in him...the banked spark of keen intelligence glinting behind those depthless russet irises anytime you saw straight through to the core truths he tried so desperately to conceal from the world.

It was all part and parcel to the tumultuous, passionate infatuation - no, the feverish embodiment of love itself - that had snaked its tendrils through the framework of his soul so inextricably that he could no more uproot it than rip out his own throbbing heart.

As for whether those same treacherous undercurrents flowed both ways between your entwined existences? Byakuya no longer felt certain enough in his previous delusions to discount that terrifying possibility out of hand either...not after you had so forcefully, irrefutably demonstrated your capacity to match his darkest hungers in kind mere moments ago.

A decade ago, even a year ago, Byakuya would have scoffed at such foolishly naive romantic notions about the true essence undergirding your joined fates in utter disdain. But now, as his seed dried in rapidly cooling streaks across your discarded sheets and the final ashen fragments of composure crumbled away around his raw, naked nerves...

Now, Byakuya faced the terrifyingly inescapable truth that he had always loved you, even when neither of your fractured souls could bear the weight of admitting it for what it truly was. And with the irrevocable upheaval of cataclysmic intimacy now binding you in ways you had both fought tooth and nail to avoid over the decades...there was simply no running from that ugly, all-consuming reality any longer.

Byakuya remained lying in the disheveled bedding long after the sounds of running water ceased, staring up at the ornate wooden beams spanning the ceiling above in contemplative stillness. Part of him anticipated your eventual re-emergence after finishing your bathing rituals, steeling himself for whatever terse conversation or emotional confrontation might be looming on the other side of that closed door.

Yet the shadows gradually shifted across the room's layout, morning light trickling away into the dimmer hues of late afternoon...and still you didn't return to face him. A knot of unease began unfurling low in Byakuya's belly as the weighted silence stretched on interminably, broken only by the occasional muted sounds of the manor's daily operations filtering in from beyond their private sanctuary.

When night had finally fallen in earnest over the Kuchiki grounds once more, he could no longer ignore the stark truth sinking its hooks into his resolute defenses - you were quite deliberately avoiding crossing paths with him after your earlier...indiscretion together. An ugly, all-too-familiar sense of roiling anguish stirred in Byakuya's chest as his mind immediately leapt to assume the worst possible implications.

You regretted the escalated passion that had flared so violently between you, the way your bodies had betrayed that dark, gnarled undercurrent of unfulfilled hunger in such an obscene manner. More than that, you no doubt reviled Byakuya himself for being the one to provoke you into casting propriety and restraint aside so recklessly. The disgust and recriminations you must be wallowing in at having permitted such a lapse in control, in having sunk to his depraved level even briefly.

He couldn’t help but regret installing that connecting door to the adjoining room—the one you might have used as an escape route.

Byakuya could practically envision the self-loathing and righteous indignation painting your lovely features into a rictus sneer, condemning your own moment of weakness as well as the vile man who had catalyzed it so shamelessly. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the barrage of visions and harsh realities he had only just begun bracing himself to confront.

Still, some defiant kernel of determination flared hot and brilliant in Byakuya's core as his hand fisted in the mussed bedding. No, he wouldn't simply resign himself to wilting in the wake of your retreat and rejection - hadn't he sworn to himself that he would persist in laying his truth bare no matter the consequences? This tipping point had been years...decades...lifetimes in the making between your fractured souls. To simply allow it to wither and dissipate without being given the chance to finally bloom into its full, radiant potential.

Well, he would be forsaking his fundamental identity as a man who stared down damnation without flinching from the abyss glaring back. So Byakuya rose with unhurried grace, already tugging his rumpled yukata into order and fastening his obi with sharp, precise movements. If you refused to seek him out and confront this pivotal event head-on, then he would come to you and force the issue into the blistering light of day whether you welcomed his presence or not.

It didn't take much effort to pinpoint your location thanks to the ingrained spiritual awareness thrumming between your soul strands like a richly textured vibration Byakuya could follow with eyes closed. You had retreated into one of the private studies nearer the rear private gardens, no doubt seeking solitary refuge from the intrusive reminders of your...lapse throughout the rest of the manor's confines.

Though he made no particular effort to mask his presence, Byakuya still swept through the veiled doorway like a specter born from twilight's ominous womb. You sat with your back angled towards him in a regal sprawl across one of the plush zabutons tucked into a quiet alcove. The motionless line of your shoulders betrayed no hint of having registered his arrival despite the absolute stillness enveloping the chamber around you.

Still, Byakuya knew you had felt the faintest whisper of his reiatsu sliding across your metaphysical senses like an insistent lover's caress the moment he crossed the threshold into your sanctuary. He allowed the weighted pause to fully permeate the space between you as he crossed the inlaid wood in unhurried strides, barely daring to draw an unnecessary breath.

Finally, he halted a few scant paces behind you, near enough to detect the subtle notes of your preferred jasmine oil wafting up from the elegant tumble of your hair. Byakuya felt his next inhale rasp with visceral longing to simply surge forward and draw that rich fragrance deep into his core through means more intimately satisfying than filtered air.

"You've been avoiding me," he said at last, refusing to couch the blunt statement in any veneer of pretense. They had both crossed too far over the precipice earlier to retreat back into vapid niceties and propriety at this juncture.

Your shoulders stiffened minutely at the flat declaration, though you otherwise remained facing away from him in rigid silence. Byakuya allowed the lingering beats to draw out into a fraught pause before continuing in that same measured, unhurried timbre.

“Was what transpired between us this morning truly so vile that it warrants treating me like an outcast within the walls of my own home, [Y/N]?”

There it was - the undisguised hint of challenge woven through his softly uttered words like dull razors' edges catching flesh. Your sharp inhalation was the only audible tell, but Byakuya easily detected the full-body shudder ghosting across your shoulders in the wake of his barbed implication.

"Don't be ridiculous, Byakuya," you parried at last, equally stripped of the archaic verbal niceties you typically shrouded yourselves in. "You know precisely why I require...space after the events of this morning."

Your voice hitched with the faintest waver on that last word, immediately firing a pulse of dark satisfaction lancing through Byakuya's vitals. So his earlier suspicions regarding the origins of your abrupt withdrawal and subsequent retreat appeared to have been well-founded.

"And just how long do you intend to continue deluding yourself with such hollow deflections, I wonder?" he rumbled, relishing the sharp edge lacing each acidic syllable.

You whipped around to face him fully, Back stiffening as that familiar spark of challenge flickered to life in your eyes. "Deflections?" you echoed with a derisive snort. "Rich words coming from you of all people, Byakuya."

He arched one brow cooly, undeterred by your opening volley. "Am I wrong? Or have you simply become so accustomed to your own lies that you've forgotten what emotional honesty even looks like anymore?"

The barb hit its mark, visibly ruffling your composure if only for an instant before the icy mask slammed back into place. You lifted your chin in that subtly arrogant tilt Byakuya knew so infuriatingly well.

"Why don't you just come out and say what's really eating at you already?" You took a few pointed steps across the study until you could glare up at him directly. "This self-righteous hostility of yours is getting quite old, dear husband."

Byakuya felt his jaw tighten fractionally at the thinly veiled insinuation lacing your words. That you thought him simply lashing out blindly out of bitterness or spite rather than addressing the real, scathingly painful truth festering between you.

"What's really 'eating at me', [Y/N]?" he ground out, leaning in until your noses were nearly brushing. “I’ll tell you—it’s the endless, damnable pretense we’ve both been dancing around for decades. This pathetic farce of empty rituals and unfulfilling obligations we bound ourselves to, all according to everyone else’s terms but our own.”

You bristled like an affronted cat, color heightening across those sharp cheekbones he'd spent many a furtive hour admiring from afar. "You make it sound as if we entered this arrangement under coercion!" you hissed, voice lowering to a throaty rasp. "Need I remind you who initially proposed our practical partnership to begin with?"

"Hardly," Byakuya fired back without missing a beat. “I distinctly remember proposing a pragmatic political union that met the bare minimum requirements, while still sparing us from the messier entanglements that would be unbecoming of our stations.”

His lips twisted into a cutting smirk, daring to dig a little deeper under your defenses. "What I don't recall is swearing any vows about outright neglecting even the most perfunctory of marital obligations, wife."

As expected, the implication regarding your wifely "failings" hit enough of a raw nerve to earn him an outraged snarl of breath as your fingers clenched at your sides. "How dare you attempt to frame this entire situation as me being negligent! You arrogant, entitled—"

"Entitled?!" Byakuya cut you off with a harsh bark of laughter that was anything but humorous. "You're calling me entitled for wanting more than scraps of acknowledgment and empty gestures from the woman whose name I've carried on my soul alongside every particle of my existence? Do you have any idea how that sounds leaving your lips?"

Your eyes flashed pure venom at the unsubtle dig. "So sorry to disappoint you if I haven't properly stroked your ego and fragile male pride during our several lifetimes together," you shot back with biting sarcasm. "But I wouldn't exactly consider succumbing to meaningless romantic frivolities to be one of my sworn 'wifely duties' either!"

The sound of Byakuya's teeth grinding together audibly filled the sudden stillness as you both froze in the wake of your words. He searched your indignant expression hungrily, feeling that same maddening kernel of yearning beginning to pulse with heated vitality once more.

"Meaningless frivolities..." he echoed with a slow shake of his head, relishing the way your throat worked on a tight swallow as he leaned incrementally closer. “You truly want to sit there and try to convince me that’s all you see intimacy between us as? Just empty, meaningless fluff unworthy of your precious emotional investment?”

Byakuya watched in smoldering silence as the first hairline fractures began splintering across your icy veneer of composure. You licked your lips in what seemed like an unconscious tell of discomfort before regaining yourself with visible effort.

"I'm not going to justify such a ridiculous line of inquiry with any further response," you stated, each word enunciated with utmost precision. "Especially not from someone so incapable of viewing such deeply personal matters through any lens beyond their own selfishness."

Before the words even finished leaving your lips, Byakuya had closed what little distance remained separating your bodies, his chest hovering a hairsbreadth from yours. You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity, those quicksilver eyes of yours widening a fraction before narrowing in obvious challenge at his unspoken provocation.

"Selfish?" he rumbled, the words vibrating between you like a livewire set to combust. "Maybe if you repeat the same bitter delusions often enough, you'll eventually convince even that dark, shriveled thing you call a heart that I'm the one poisoning everything between us with my indulgent selfishness."

You seemed to swell with indignant fury at the blasphemous insinuations scoring so close to bone. Byakuya could practically taste the sparks of vicious heat flaring off you in waves.

"I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful manner!" you hissed in a low rasp of warning. "Especially not by you, Byakuya. Not after everything I've endured, everything I've sacrificed to uphold the sacred integrity of this family!"

His chuckle emerged low and ominous, teetering on the knife-edge of mockery in a way he knew would enrage you even further. "Do go on, by all means. Tell me more tall tales about all the terrible suffering you've endured at married to a man burning with obsessive passion for you."

Byakuya trailed off with a pointed look that left no illusions about his meaning. He watched your throat work convulsively around what was either denial or revulsion at the blatant overture.

“As if your painfully unrequited infatuations somehow undermine every bit of my integrity and sense of duty to this household,” you countered with naked disdain. "Just because you've become so blinded by the pitiful compulsions poisoning your perspective..."

Your next inhalation wavered audibly as Byakuya slid that final few millimeters forward until your bodies meshed seamlessly together from shoulder to knee - achingly intimate in a way you both recognized with dawning horror. Still, there was no use retreating or separating now - not after so much raw, scalding truth had been unleashed between you.

"You can keep deluding yourself with those tired old self-deceptions, wife," he growled, mouth practically grazing your own. "Or you can finally release that bitter, ugly pride for just this once and admit that you feel the same sick, gnawing hunger to finally unmake every single lie between us. The choice is yours..."

The gauntlet he laid at your feet seemed to ring with all the momentous impact of shattering glass against frozen steel. You stood there, breath mingling with Byakuya's in that razor-thin span of space as the last tortured seconds separating your joint fates stretched out precipitously.

He could practically taste the vortex of indecision and teetering control swirling between your dueling spirits in that viscous, electrically charged pause. As if the entire cosmos itself held its infinite breath awaiting your answer, silently screaming for you to grab the final threads of this elaborate fictional web binding you both in misery...and simply burn it all to exquisitely smoldering purification once and for all.

The silence stretched out between you, laden with decades of repressed tension and unvoiced yearnings. Byakuya watched you intently, silver eyes blazing with challenge as he awaited your response.

Finally, you inhaled a shuddering breath, squaring your shoulders as if bracing yourself.

"You want the truth?" you asked, voice low and raspy with pent-up emotion. "Fine. The truth is, I've been holding myself back from you for years, Byakuya. Holding back every urge, every desire, because I was too much of a coward to face what was happening between us."

Byakuya felt his breath catch at your frank admission, but remained silent, letting you continue uninterrupted.

"Do you know what it's been like?" you pressed on, taking a step closer until you were nearly chest-to-chest. "Waking up beside you every morning, body aching to be touched...to be held by you? Having to leave the bed and pretend like I didn't notice your...problem...when all I really wanted was for you to take me right then and there?"

Your eyes shone with a mixture of bitterness and naked longing. "I've thought about it. Dreamed about you kissing me, really kissing me. About us taking baths together and washing each other's bodies. Falling asleep tangled up, skin on skin, after making love all night long..."

You exhaled a shaky breath, reaching up to trace the sharp line of Byakuya's jaw. "But I could never let myself give in. Not when I knew you were still holding on to memories of Hisana. I didn't want to ruin that for you with my selfish desires."

The anguish in your words was unmistakable. Byakuya felt his throat constrict at the realization that some part of you had harbored insecurities about his feelings all this time. Before he could voice a response, you barreled onwards.

"I kept telling myself that whatever you were feeling for me, it was just physical," you said bitterly. "Lust born from decades of sexual frustration, nothing more. That if I gave in, let myself fall into bed with you, it would just ruin everything between us eventually."

You shook your head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But God, Byakuya...I'm so tired of fighting this constant war inside me. Tired of denying how badly I want you, crave your touch, your kisses, your—"

Byakuya surged forward without warning, capturing your mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss that obliterated whatever confession was about to tumble from your lips. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth before melting into the embrace with a desperate whimper.

His arms came around you, crushing your body flush against his as he kissed you with every ounce of the repressed passion that had been steadily unraveling him for decades. This was no chaste brushing of lips - this was a man staking an undeniable claim on the one person his entire universe revolved around.

When you finally parted, gasping for air, Byakuya leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that made you shiver.

"Listen to me," he rasped, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks. "Whatever lingering ghosts you think still bind me to my past with Hisana...let them go, my love. You are my present, my future, the only person I've truly allowed to take up permanent residence in my heart and soul."

His words seemed to steal whatever breath you'd regained. You stared up at him with naked vulnerability shining in your eyes as he continued.

"I love you," Byakuya stated simply. "Every part of you - your strength, your pride, your beauty, and yes...even your maddening stubbornness. I have loved you for longer than I can remember, and I will continue loving you until the stars burn out in the endless sky."

A solitary tear traced down your cheek as you tried to process his declaration. Byakuya caught it with the pad of his thumb, lips quirking into the barest hint of a smile.

"So please," he murmured, dipping his head to trail kisses along the curve of your jaw. "No more pushing me away out of some misguided sense of honor or duty, beloved. Let me worship you the way my soul has longed to for eternity. Let me love you the way you deserve..."

The rest of his words faded into a heated brush of mouths and shared breaths as you surged up to recapture his lips in a desperate, needy kiss. Byakuya groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall with a gentle thud.

His hands roamed over every inch of you hungrily, bunching the fabric of your clothing as he sought to eliminate any remaining barriers between your heated bodies. You gasped into the searing kiss when his palm found the soft swell of your breast, kneading and tweaking the hardened peak until you arched shamelessly into his touch.

"Fuck, [Y/N]..." Byakuya panted against the scorching skin of your neck as his mouth blazed a path of open-mouthed kisses downward. "You have no idea how many times I've imagined this, dreamed of having you like this."

His teeth scraped along your racing pulse before soothing the sting with an ardent sweep of his tongue. You fisted your hands in his hair, tugging sharply in a silent plea for more as you rolled your hips against the insistent ridge of his cock.

"Tell me," you rasped, voice already wrecked with need. "Tell me what dark, filthy fantasies you've been entertaining about me all these years, Byakuya."

His answering growl vibrated against the swell of your breast as his mouth found the exposed flesh there, lips and tongue lavishing devout attention until you were keening softly. One broad hand slid possessively down your body to hitch your thigh over his hip, grinding his clothed erection against your core.

"I've thought about bending you over every available surface and fucking you until you couldn't walk straight," he rasped, punctuating each crude word with a sharp roll of his hips that had you both panting harshly. "About spreading those gorgeous thighs and feasting on your cunt until you're a sobbing, incoherent mess beneath my tongue..."

You whimpered at the lewd confessions, nails scoring down Byakuya's back as the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening sex left you nearly delirious. He captured your mouth again in a punishing kiss, all heat and slick desperation as you ground together frantically.

"But most of all," he growled when you finally parted for air. Stormy silver eyes bored into yours, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper...something primal and proprietary you'd never seen in their depths before. "I've burned for the chance to make you truly mine in every sense. To bury myself so deep inside this perfect little cunt and pump you full of my seed over and over until you're round with my child."

The guttural cadence of his words punched the air from your lungs in a harsh gasp. Byakuya took full advantage, mouth and hands growing rougher, more demanding as he scented the first hints of your arousal sharpening in the charged air between you.

"That's what you want too, isn't it?" he husked against the swollen curve of your lips, tongue flicking out to taste the desperate whimpers spilling past them. "You want me to breed you properly, the way a husband should stake his claim on his wife...don't you, my beloved?"

The only response you could formulate was a strangled keen of sheer ecstasy as Byakuya seized your other thigh, bodily lifting you until your legs were wrapped around his narrow hips. He rolled his pelvis against your molten core again, savoring the way your head tipped back shamelessly at the promise of that delicious friction.

"Yes..." you finally rasped, arms looping around his neck as your lust-glazed eyes met his burning stare pleadingly. "God, yes, Byakuya! Take me, breed me, do whatever you want. I'm fucking yours, always have been..."

His lips crashed back onto yours in a searing, utterly possessive kiss that seared you all the way down to your bones. Byakuya's hands cupped your ass firmly, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh there while he walked the two of you further into the room, intent on laying claim to his wife at long last.

You barely registered the moment the backs of your thighs hit the edge of the desk until you were sprawled back onto the polished wood, legs splayed wantonly and chest heaving with rapid breaths. Byakuya stood there for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you spread out like a decadent feast before his ravenous gaze.

"My beautiful, infuriating wife," he growled, palming his aching cock through the strained fabric of his pants. "What have you done to me..."

You moaned, squirming impatiently as you watched him strip the rest of his clothes off in quick, efficient motions. Every inch of his pale, lithely muscular body was pure perfection - from the elegant sweep of his neck and chiseled planes of his chest, down to the proud jut of his erection, thick and leaking against his lower belly.

Your core clenched involuntarily at the thought of having all that glorious manhood buried inside you to the hilt. You couldn't recall ever feeling this needy and desperate for another person in your entire existence, let alone centuries worth of memories.

"Byakuya..." you panted, reaching out a hand to beckon him closer. "Come here. Please, I need—"

The rest of your sentence dissolved into a high pitched squeal as your husband all but lunged forward, hauling you back up against him by the waist. His mouth claimed yours in a bruising, hungry kiss while his fingers worked furiously at the fastenings of your clothing, clearly beyond the point of patience and finesse.

You tugged off the loose silk robe and top, leaving you clad in nothing but your undergarments. Byakuya's palms ran over the newly exposed skin reverently, lips trailing hot, wet kisses across the tops of your breasts before tugging the straps down to expose them fully.

He thumbed one pert, aching nipple, rolling and pinching the hardened bud until you were writhing helplessly against his chest. You cried out at the first wet, scorching suckle, spine bowing with pleasure as he worshipped your sensitive breasts with a thoroughness that bordered on obscene.

"Mmmm, I wanted to do so much more to you this morning," he husked, laving his tongue across the pebbled nub before giving it a firm, sharp suck that had you keening. "Wanted to see how long it would take me to make you cum, just from worshipping these gorgeous tits..."

Your breath hitched audibly at the erotic admission. The mental image of waking up to this version of Byakuya, all sleepy-eyed and ravenous, laving his wicked mouth and clever fingers all over your breasts was so intoxicating, you couldn't stop the broken whimper from slipping past your lips.

Byakuya smirked against your skin, seeming to sense the effect his words were having on you. "I know," he crooned, fingers pinching and pulling at the other nipple. "I've spent a good portion of our marriage imagining how many times I could get you to cum on my tongue alone before begging me for my cock."

You whimpered at the vulgar picture those words painted, hips arching off the desk in a silent plea for relief. Byakuya's palms glided down the slope of your abdomen, thumbs stroking the tender skin of your inner thighs.

"You can’t blame me," he continued, mouth descending lower, leaving a hot, wet trail of open-mouthed kisses and teasing nips across the sensitive flesh. "You never even gave me a chance to see what this tight little hole looks like stretched around my cock. To taste your honey as you gush for me over and over..."

The last of his words dissolved into a filthy groan as his teeth latched around the lacy band of your panties, tugging them down and off in one swift motion. You could barely contain the breathless cry of shock as Byakuya's lips and tongue immediately found the slick juncture between your thighs.

He lapped at you hungrily, broad hands holding your hips pinned against the desk as he ate your cunt like a man starved. You cried out, fisting a hand in his hair while the other grasped desperately at the edge of the desk for purchase.

Byakuya groaned low in his throat as the musky, earthy taste of you flooded his mouth. He could have spent hours between your thighs, just drinking in the honeyed sweetness of your desire and reveling in the desperate little whimpers you made each time he dragged his tongue across your throbbing clit.

He settled into a relentless rhythm, alternating between firm, flat-tongued licks and sucking your swollen bud until you were a writhing, babbling mess atop the desk. When he finally slipped two long, slender fingers into your dripping core, you nearly sobbed at the delicious fullness.

"I don’t think I can wait any longer," Byakuya growled, curling the digits inside you just so until you were practically drooling with pleasure. "Not when you're this hot, and wet, and eager for me. Not after you kept me waiting so long..."

His thumb circled the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit, watching the way your eyes fluttered and your thighs trembled with the telltale signs of a rapidly approaching climax. "Do you think you're ready for me, sweet wife?"

You managed a weak nod, still reeling from the mind-melting pleasure his fingers and mouth were wreaking on your body. Byakuya leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he withdrew his digits and guided his straining cock towards your entrance.

A ragged moan slipped past his lips as the swollen, leaking head brushed the soaked, molten heat of your core. It took every ounce of his iron will to keep from slamming home with a single brutal thrust. Instead, he teased your entrance with shallow, gentle strokes, watching the way his length glistened each time it emerged coated with your essence.

"Byakuya, please!" you begged, nails scoring down his back. "Fuck me already, I'm dying—"

He silenced the rest of your desperate pleading with a savage, searing kiss, hips jerking forward just enough for the swollen tip to slip past the fluttering rim of your cunt. Byakuya savored the way you moaned brokenly into his mouth at the sensation, the way your body instinctively arched up to seek out more.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours and meeting your heated, half-lidded gaze with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through to your soul. "I want you to look at me," he murmured, the words little more than a growl as he began to slowly, inexorably sink into the tight, slick heaven of your body. "Look at me as I take you for the first time, make you mine in the most primal, sacred way possible. Don't look away..."

The command was issued as much to himself as to you. He couldn't recall ever seeing anything more exquisite than the sight of you taking him inch by agonizing inch - flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, eyes blazing with need and desire and an emotion far more profound than he could possibly name.

"I love you," you choked out, tears streaking down your cheeks at the sheer rightness of being connected to him this way. "Oh God, Byakuya...I love you so much!"

His heart stuttered at the declaration, and it took every last vestige of his fraying control not to slam home with a single, savage thrust. Byakuya paused halfway, giving your body a chance to adjust to his considerable size as he brushed a lock of hair away from your tear-stained face.

"I love you too, my darling," he husked, kissing you with aching gentleness. "More than I could ever find the words to say."

With that, he surged forward, sheathing himself completely within the scorching, slick confines of your cunt until you were both gasping for air. You clutched at him, arms and legs locking around his torso as if desperate to hold him in place, to keep him buried inside the molten depths of your core forever.

"B-Byakuya," you stuttered, the syllables dissolving into a high, needy whine as he began to withdraw slowly. The drag of his thick, hard length against your inner walls was enough to make your eyes roll back with ecstasy.

When only the flared crown remained buried within you, Byakuya snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt once again. He set a punishing pace, fucking you hard and fast against the polished wood, until the only sounds filling the air were the slap of sweat-slick skin and your combined moans and cries of pleasure.

"God, you feel amazing," he rasped against your mouth, hands cupping the supple curve of your ass, tilting your hips at just the right angle for him to hammer against that perfect, spongy spot deep within. "Like you were made just for me."

You whimpered, unable to form coherent words as you met each thrust eagerly, rolling your pelvis and matching him stroke for stroke. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, coiling tighter and tighter as the friction and pressure of his thick, unyielding cock began to unravel you.

Byakuya felt the familiar, molten tension coiling in his lower belly as well, his orgasm racing towards the breaking point despite his best efforts. He didn't want this to end, didn't want to leave the paradise of your tight, welcoming cunt even for a moment, but he knew there was no way he could hold out much longer.

He reached down, finding the swollen bundle of nerves above where your bodies were joined and circling it with his thumb. "Cum for me, my beloved," he growled, angling his thrusts until he was hitting that spot inside you over and over. "Show me how beautiful you look when you fall apart for me."

Your body obeyed his command immediately, back arching and head tossing wildly as your core clenched around his throbbing length. A scream ripped free from your lungs as the dam broke, and the pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Byakuya cursed hoarsely at the exquisite feeling of your slick, molten cunt fluttering and pulsing around him, nearly bringing him over the edge himself. He rode out the waves of your release, groaning when the hot, sticky flood of your honey began dripping down his balls.

It took all the willpower he could muster to resist the urge to spill his seed right then and there. With a ragged breath, Byakuya slowed his movements, gently rolling his hips as your shudders subsided. He peppered the soft skin of your neck and collarbone with light, worshipful kisses, murmuring his adoration as you slowly came back to reality.

"My beloved wife," he crooned, the possessive timbre of his voice making you shiver. "I've dreamed about the sight of you cumming around my cock, but the reality was a thousand times better than anything my mind could ever conjure up."

Your face flushed at the erotic confession, eyes fluttering shut when he pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of your mouth. You could still feel the thick length of his erection pulsing inside you, the subtle twitches and jerks telling you just how badly he needed release.

"Please, I need more," you whimpered, clenching around him. "I want you to fill me up, make me yours..."

The words were like a shot of pure lust straight to Byakuya's brain. His control snapped, and suddenly you were on your back, legs splayed wantonly over the edge of the desk. Your husband braced his palms against the wood, fingers tangling with yours as he loomed over you.

"Look at me," he demanded, hissing as the new angle allowed him to go even deeper. "Keep looking at me, no matter what."

You barely had a chance to process the command before Byakuya began to move again. This time, there was nothing slow or gentle about the way he drove into you. It was fast, and deep, and rough - his thick cock pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt with the singular purpose of breeding you, making you his and his alone.

Each powerful stroke hit that spot inside you perfectly, the head of his cock dragging across the sensitive bundle of nerves with a force that had you nearly sobbing with ecstasy. You struggled to keep your eyes open, watching the way his muscles rippled and flexed with each thrust, the way his eyes burned with a possessive, primal light as he claimed you in the most basic, visceral way imaginable.

Byakuya was utterly lost, drunk on the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down around him and the knowledge that he was the first and only man to have you like this. That you had waited all these years, just as he had, for this moment. He could feel his orgasm threatening to shatter him at any moment, the molten heat pooling in his abdomen, but there was no way he was going to let go before bringing you over the edge again.

He slipped a hand between your writhing bodies, pinching and rubbing the swollen, hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Your cry was near-hysterical, nails scoring down his back and legs trembling as he pushed you ever closer to the edge.

"Byakuya! I—I'm going to—"

Your breathless warning was cut off by his mouth, devouring the keening wail of your release as the tension in your belly snapped and the waves of pleasure crashed over you again. The feeling of your slick cunt fluttering and convulsing around him was enough to shatter what was left of Byakuya's fraying control.

He buried himself as deep as possible, the head of his cock grinding against the deepest, most intimate parts of your body as his climax tore through him. He groaned brokenly against your mouth, hips jerking reflexively with each spurt of cum, painting your womb with his seed.

The two of you remained locked together, sharing shuddering, gasping breaths as the aftershocks rippled through you. Byakuya nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating, uniquely you scent while he tried to convince his body to move.

"Don't," you whispered, arms tightening around his waist as if sensing his intent. "Just stay like this, please."

He chuckled, pressing a tender kiss against your throat. "Believe me, I would love nothing more, my sweet. But I‘d rather we continue this in the comfort of our bed, preferably before any of the servants return and catch us in such a compromising position."

Your face flamed at the reminder that your husband had, in fact, fucked you within an inch of your life atop his desk, with the door wide open. "Good point," you mumbled sheepishly.

Byakuya finally pulled out, both of you groaning at the sudden sense of emptiness. He scooped you into his arms, pressing another kiss against your temple. "Besides, we're not even close to finished yet, my love. I have centuries worth of fantasies to make a reality, and a whole lifetime to breed you properly. We're just getting started..."

[bigfan-fanfic]

My Blooming Rose (Enchantress' Child!Reader x Ben Florian)

@iliumheightnights Hi friend! May I please request a little story? I'd love to read a story about Ben Florian dating a son of the enchantress reader. Reader still is learning magic and Ben helps him when he can and encourages him? All the fluff please?

In some respects, no one would necessarily blame your boyfriend's father for wanting to imprison your mother on the Isle of the Lost.

She did, after all, enchant a young, albeit spoiled, prince and condemn him (an eleven-year-old, mind you) to ten years of suffering and self-loathing in a body not his own.

But no. King Adam and his Queen would never have met if not for the Enchantress.

Besides, they learned well from the example of Queen Leah and King Stefan - don't piss off the magical entity in close proximity.

And so the Enchantress lived within Auradon, and you, her child, were born.

You're not sure you quite approve of the whole Isle of the Lost thing - your mother's punishments tended to get to people before they became irredeemable, so the idea of endless incarceration seems harsh, even by her standards.

But all the same, you are invited to Auradon Prep, mainly to study with the Fairy Godmother to hone your talents in magic. And since you aren't expected to enter a royal line, you don't even have to do some of the more inane Auradon courses.

But who would have thought that without any magic at all, you'd have ensorcelled the heart of Prince Ben.

Ben is just a spot of sunshine in your world, he's so affectionate and lovely.

And supportive!

He's figured out the loophole in the rule that he can't spend all his free time with you by organizing "study dates" in addition to normal dates.

But since magical homework and study is pretty involved, that just means he hangs around in your dorm with you more often than not.

Not that either of you mind.

Except this can sometimes lead to minor mishaps.

You're practicing a spell in the mirror, meant to help disguise someone by changing their appearance.

Focusing on your hair, trying to lengthen it just a little. Just a small test.

But then Ben leaps up to kiss you on the cheek and you wave the training wand just a little haphazardly-

And Ben gets a face-full of your magic.

"Oh my gosh, Ben! Are you okay?"

"Yup!" Ben groans from the floor. "Nothing broken. I think."

He hops back up to his feet, and you gasp.

Your boyfriend's smooth jaw has sprouted patchy growths of hair that are still thickening until they make a rather nice beard and mustache. "Ben... I..."

Ben sees himself in the mirror and grins. "Oh, this is nice!"

"It was an accident."

"If even your accidents are this great, you're gonna be a better wizard than Merlin!" Ben pats your shoulder before stroking his new beard. "It's not even scratchy!"

You blush. "You look really good with a beard."

"Do I look kingly?" Ben asks eagerly, striking a pose.

"You do, but let's try and find a counterspell quickly. Accidental magic tends to corrupt pretty fast. You might end up with the hair changing colors like a chameleon or something."

"That actually sounds kinda-"

"And then I wouldn't be able to see where to kiss you."

Ben instantly gets serious. "Let's hit the books."

"But uh... when you do reverse the spell... Maybe try it on purpose? I wanna see what kissing with a beard is like."

You grin. "Oh really? Why?"

"Cause when you're my Royal Consort, I'll probably grow out a beard and kiss you all the time, so... I wanna see what I'm working toward."

You laugh and then squeeze his hand. "In that case, let's get this thing reversed as soon as we can."

"Love you. My blooming rose."

"Love you. My noble king."

[400luxxxxxxx]

toxic doomed old man yaoi

shakespeare if he was woke

Iago: God forsake that doltish, doltish man! That he believeth each word to drop from mine own lips as though ‘twere holy writ, blindeth himself in his conceit... God save us all if that moor hadst remain’d powerful as he once was. Was! ‘Tis ever so sweet to speak of him in the past. My hatred for the man doth outlast his brief, fool’s life. Ay, good riddance I say, good riddance. It gives me somewhat to dwell upon, rather than mine own blood seepeth o’er my clothes – and yet, whilst I am so bruised and beaten, the thought dost creep o’er my mind, that I am glad Othello saw me not in such estate... good riddance, I say! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, loyal or nay! I stand triumphant, as I ever was, whilst they both do rot in the ground, many a pace betwixt them. Never have I known a fate more satisfying. If he were to cast me aside, then let him have naught by his side. Yet the question I can but ask myself still, is why doth mine heart ache so? The moor is dead by none but his own doing. Blind was he to mine own worth, casting me off like so. Say not mine hand was unforced. So why doth I ache so?

Were he alive, would he rue it? The fool, to end his own life... could he not be a man? Othello, thou art a fool if thou hear’st me now! By what reason or wit didst thou wed that woman? Did she know thee better than I? Did she know thee more deeply? Doth her devotion put mine years of loyalty to shame? I-

Ay, see me now! Pacing and railing against the walls of this accurs’d cell like a craz’d wretch. Nay, Othello, thou art not here. Good riddance to thee. Thou art dead, I am alive; thus I am the victor.

Yet it doth feel less noble than I had dreamt. There is no crowd to applaud me within these walls. In mine heart there smoulders a fire, yet beneath it lies an emptiness naught can fill. My hunger should have been sated the moment that blade pierc’d his belly, yet instead tis growing more keen as each day doth pass. And without him. Yet pass they do.

Nay, good riddance, The days pass as e’er they did, yet the man who wronged me doth not see their passage – that alone is reason for celebration. Were I free this moment, mayhap I’d travel to the nearest tavern and there proclaim my triumph to all ‘til my voice grew hoarse.

Yet, even as I say it, I dread that the instant I entered, the name “Othello” would lie presuppos’d on my tongue. Oh, heavens, whom do I seek to deceive? There is none but myself here. His name, which stirr’d naught but anger in my heart, used to do the opposite. Speak on, I shall not, for if there aught left to grip save mine hand upon mine wind, it is my dignity. These walls, they crack and whisper – I should know, for I have stood long upon the other side of them. For Othello’s sake, no less.

The fate he met, ‘twas by his own hand wrought. Cassio, his choice? That lecherous, fawning knave? Were I in Othello’s stead, I’d have cast off this mortal coil the moment such a decision was made. And yet, as he hearken’d to mine own supposed crimes, ere he did end his life in such selfish haste, I find myself longing that his reddened face and rueful eye had been set alight for another cause. Mayhaps a more selfish one. That red, perchance warm’d by mine lips upon his.

God, save me! Let some gaoler enter this cell and thrash me senseless for thinking thus, and let mine head be dash’d upon the cold stone floor for that I would not repent.

--

translated version for stupid harlots

Iago:

God forsake that stupid, stupid man! Believing every word to come out my mouth like it is the scripture itself, blinding himself with his own ego... god save us all if he was to remain as powerful as he was. Was – it’s ever so satisfying to speak of him in past tense now. My hate  for the man lives longer than he ever did. Good riddance, I say, good riddance. It gives me something to occupy myself with, rather than the way my own blood drips onto my clothes – while I’m beaten, the thought can’t help but enter my mind that I’m glad Othello never saw me like this... good riddance! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, faithful or not! I remain triumphant as always while they both rot in the ground, metres apart forever. I’ve never heard of a more satisfying fate. If he was to choose to not have me by his side, then he will have no one. The question, however, that I can’t help but ask myself, is why do I still ache? That idiot is dead because of no one’s fault but his own. He failed to recognise my worthiness, pushed me to the side like some sort of wingman, you cannot say my hand was not forced. So why do I ache like so?

If he was alive still, would he regret it? The fool, ending his own life like that... be a man! Othello, you moron, if you by any chance of the heavens can hear me now, you are a fool! Why in any sense of sanity you still held onto would you marry that woman? Did she know you better than I? Did she understand you more deeply than I? Did she stay by your side for god knows how long that put my years of loyalty to shame? I-

Look at me now. Pacing and yelling to the walls of this damned grey cell like some sort of deluded psychotic. No, Othello, you are not here. Good riddance. You are dead and I am alive, and  therefore I am the victor.

It feels less admirable than I had imagined it to feel.

There is no applause in this cell for me. There is a fire burning in my heart but just below it, my stomach is empty as it’ll ever be. My appetite should’ve been quenched the second that knife entered his belly but for some reason it’s getting worse as the days pass. Without him, they pass.

No, good riddance. The days pass as they always did and this time a man who has wronged me is not here to see it – that, in my books, is a cause for celebration. Why, if I was freed right now maybe I’d even go for a trip to the nearest tavern, and brag about my winnings to everyone I can see until my throat is raw.

However, and I truly may hate myself for this, I fear the second I storm in there and open my mouth to speak, the name “Othello” would already be presumed to be on my tongue. Oh, who am I to fool. There is no one here but me. Where his name, when spoken to me, now provokes ire and anger, it did so used to do the opposite. Speak on, I will not, for if there is one thing that I wish to hold on to other than my hand to my bleeding wound it is my dignity. These cracking cell walls, they speak. I should know; I’ve been on the other side of them for the majority of my time here. For Othello’s sake, nonetheless.

The fate he had he brought it on himself. Cassio was his choice? That good for nothing womanizer? If I were Othello I’d have killed myself the second that god-awful decision was made.

And yet, as he was told of my crimes, before he did end his own life so selfishly, I can’t help but wish the red in his face and the regret in his eyes could’ve been for a different reason. The flush of his face, maybe accompanied with my lips on his.

God, spare me! Let someone back into my cell to beat my wounds raw for thinking such a thing, and let my skull be cracked open on the cold, concrete floor for not wanting to take it back.

[sohighsohaii]

APCA: First this one's on top, and then the other: ITZY(ft. a mystery Guest)

Series Masterlist

(Part 1 of the Itzy Arc: Ryujin, Yeji and Yuna's breaking is begun. Lia and Chaeryoung's breaking begins in the next part. Still not that much smut, I promise it comes soon)

TW! The aforementioned sexual exploitation, pretty much non-con, slight torture, drugging. (DO NOT READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Send her as soon as you can. She'll be instrumental." You say into the phone, hearing Aegis agree on the other side of the phone.

Hanging up, you looked around the room, ensuring the room was clear, before sighing. This was a part of your life you had hoped not to reignite. Before you joined the force, you had a...troubled past, with problematic habits and compulsions. All that was shed once you donned the uniform, but now, as you shed the uniform, you are also forced to go back to your problematic habits. You knew this was meant for the sake of ending the suffering. That's what you told yourself, you had to insist, because to end this suffering, countless idols had to suffer, and ultimately break. What's worse, it was going to be by your hand. You prayed that this would work, or else the demons you let back out of you would have been freed for naught, and there was no escape.

Hearing a knock on the door, you quickly recomposed yourself. "Come in." You say, a bespectacled man entered the room, his seemingly elegant and posh tone in stark contrast to his bulky build more akin to a wrestler than a noble as his voice would suggest.

"The preparations you've requested are in place."

"Very well, wait for me outside room 4, and enter when I call for you" You command, the man nodding, turning to walk out.

Turning to the table, you look through 4 cameras, your very own dollhouse.

In Camera 1, Shin Yuna sat on a huge bed, you would argue more extravagant then the room in her own dorm. She was clearly confused, looking around the room trying to find any traps, but no, it seemed like a normal bedroom, much more comfortable than the warehouse floor that she had found herself chained down to not too long ago. The only weird thing she had on was a chastity belt, but in her terrified state, she didn't question it. She would rather have it on than be defiled by some asshole. In your few recordings of Aegis' half assed attempted training of her, you knew you needed to play the long game with her.

In Camera 2, Lee Chaeryoung found herself caught in a spider's web, her hands and feet bound to a web of rope behind her, with her eyes impaired by a blindfold, completely naked except for a collar and leash, also a vibrator lightly stimulating her. She needed a more direct approach than Yuna, a perfect whirlwind of shock, terror and protectiveness.

In Cameras 3 and 4, there were two different rooms, though both rooms could see each other. In the first, Choi Lia, held in place by leather bounds, body locked in a kneeling position, hands locked behind her back, causing her tits to jut out. Her mouth was stuffed with a red ball gag, with a large shock collar around her neck, but her eyesight was not impaired, though she almost wished she was. She didn't know what to make of the sight before her.

Hwang Yeji and Shin Ryujin, on a seesaw, but one straight out of a shitty fetish film. Weirdly enough, you did by that from a porn set, well, then modified to suit what you needed it for. On both ends, laid a white silicone dildo, lined up to the honeypots of the two idols in distress, looking at each other in confusion and fear. These two were the ones you anticipated taking the longest, with the most fight. So you had to go the route of protectiveness but also, distrust. It was probably going to help break Lia too. The two idols were bound tightly, strapped securely to the seesaw.

from Putting on a face of a sadistic "master", you walked into the room, the two idols eyes immediately darting to you. You felt a wave of pity rush over you, a shameful rush of excitement too, but you had to push it down. Means to an end, you insisted "What the fuck do you want, bastard." Ryujin immediately spat out, causing you to shake your head animatedly. Pulling a remote out of your pocket, you flourished it in front of the two idols. Pressing a button, you could hear the muffled scream of Lia from behind you as the two idols screamed in fear. After an initial shock, Lia's body relaxed, though her body heaved from the pain, struggling to catch her breath. "What the fuck did you do to her you asshole!" Yeji shouted, as you sighed. Good lord. Another scream emerged from behind you, and you could see tear well up in Yeji's eyes, and fear flicker across Ryujin's face. "Now now girls, no need for name calling. We're here to play a game, and what is a game without some rules. Show some decorum, will you ladies?" You ask almost tauntingly. Realizing what you meant, the two of them held their tongue. They didn't want risk antagonizing you any further. "So, b-. you, what game are we playing?" Yeji asked, her voice almost a sneer. A little close, but you didn't want to hurt Lia too much, so you chose to ignore it. "We're playing a little game called, well, SeeSaw. I'm sure you've noticed the dildos underneath you. In a moment, once the game starts, it'll begin to vibrate, and rest assured my ladies, it'll only grow stronger as it goes." You explain. "That's not a game." Ryujin spat back. "How rude, interrupting me. I wasn't done. So, the game, Miss Shin, Miss Hwang, is a battle of trust, sacrifice, and endurance. Over the next 2 hours, you'll be competing over who orgasms the least. The winner is rewarded, and the loser will be swapped into the hot seat. As you can see, currently, Miss Choi is in the hot seat. Not only does your orgasms determine who wins, it also determines how well Miss Choi will enjoy the game. Whenever one of you orgasms, a shock will be delivered to Miss Choi. It's non fatal, that much I assure you, but I promise you it hurts more than a little." Behind you, you hear a muffled whimper, seeing Lia begin to cry. "So for Miss Choi's sake, I hope you two ladies are well trained. Now for the games element. You'll find in your hands, a remote. The top button sends your side of the seesaw up, and the bottom button sends your side of the seesaw down. Me personally, considering how close you girls are, I'm sure you girls will only be using the bottom button to save the other. However, if at any moment should you choose to grow competitive, the top button is always available for you to relieve yourself of the dildo. Don't fight each other though, sitting on it is probably better than constantly getting impaled by it." You run a hand down Yeji and Ryujin's thighs, lightly patting their pussies as they both lightly growled. "And if it serves as any motivation, this is the reward." You pulled a tablet out, showing them a live feed of Yuna's room. Yuna had made herself comfortable, body clad in a purple silk negligee, lying on the bed watching TV. "Winning has it's benefits." You remind the girls, as you moved to the two girls, shoving a ball gag into their mouths, covering their eyes with a blindfold. "The game begins in a minute. Godspeed ladies." You say Before you left the room, you decided to have some fun, walking up to Ryujin, leaning down as you ran a tongue across her puffy slit, and you could tell she was trying her best not to moan. That defiant look on her face. You had seen it many times before. And you've seen them all break before. Moving to Yeji, you did the same, though Yeji reacted much differently, your tongue illiciting a moan from the leader. You smirk, feeling your emotions overrun you as you lean in, nibbling on her nipples as you felt her contort. That was enough though. The game must begin, and the show must go on

You left the room, seeing the man from earlier. Fishing a controller out from your pocket, you hand it to him. "Let them control it first, maybe around 10 minutes, then, take control, just go crazy with it, make it akin to a seesaw. Up and down and up and down. Understood?" You say as you noticed a gleeful smile crack across his face. "How devious, sir. I understand. About Miss Choi?" He asked. Looking down to the control, you hesitated. "Go easy on her, I don't want her too tired to be broken." You give a quick excuse, which the man bought. You'd join them again in around an hour, but for now, you had to begin with Yuna and Chaeryoung. First, Yuna.

Going to Room 1, you picked up the tray of food left by the man earlier, then knocking on the door.

From behind the door, you heard Yuna hesitantly reply, "Come in."

Opening the door, you saw Yuna curl up under the blanket, not wanting to expose herself to this stranger. "Why am I here, where are my girls?" Yuna asked, slightly defiantly. This trick required some acting, well, it was close enough to the actual truth. "Please, let me explain, Miss Shin. I'm a business partner of the man who...did this to you. He knew I'm a big fan of you girls, and he offered for me to come and, well, sample you girls." Hearing that, Yuna instinctively pulled the blanket higher, inching away from you. "No, Miss Shin, I'm not here to do that, I assure you. I'm not involved in any of this, and suffice to say I was more than shocked to hear what was being done to you girls. I'm working on freeing you girls, but...it's complicated, the man is stubborn. For now, this is all I can give you girls. Comfortable housing, and no one touches you girls until this deal is finally done and I can set you girls free." You say, and you saw Yuna's doe eyes widen, and you could tell what she was thinking. Though a thousand questions swirled in her head, you knew the imperative question was, can I trust this man? "Are you telling the truth?" Yuna asked, and there, she was on the hook. "I promise you Miss Shin. I'l-" You began to say, but she quickly cut you off. "Yuna. You can call me Yuna." She said, with a hesitant but small smile. You felt your heart suddenly flutter, what was this? You couldn't afford to get softhearted in this mission. "Okay, Yuna, I promise you. I'll do what I can, as soon as I can. For now, all I can do is bring you your meals once in a while, maybe accompany you a little to help you pass the time. Well, other than the K Dramas. That was a weirdly hard sell to the man on top." You say, acting sheepish as Yuna let out a soft giggle, seemingly finding a small reprieve from this horror. Turning around, you took the tray you had brought in, opening it to reveal a pizza. Yuna hungrily grabbed at the Pizza, it must have been so long since she had last eaten proper food. "This is delicious" Yuna barely mumbled out, her words muffled by the pizza. You were glad you could bring happiness to her, but you were also secretly happy at your scheme going well. Unbeknownst to Yuna, the Pizza contained trace amounts of aphrodisiac. A small dose for the first day, but it'll slowly increase, driving her insane. As you sat with her, you allowed your fanboy side to come out, allowing Yuna to take her mind off her current situation. After around 30 minutes, Yuna had finished the pizza, and you received a message. She was on her way, you had to wrap it up. "I'm sorry Yuna, I have to go now. I told them to make sure they serve you and your groupmates good food, so eat up alright?" You shoot her a reassuring smile, and she hesitantly smiles back, before leaning toward you, leaving a kiss on your cheek. "I'll see you soon." She whispered.

Going back to your office, you saw a giant metal frame on wheels, the woman bound to it similar to how Chaeryoung was. Smiling in satisfaction, you took a moment, giving into desire as you leaned down, toying with the woman, a sudden burst of impulsiveness leading you to kneel down, shoving two fingers up her moist snatch as you roughly fingered her pussy, causing her body to thrash against the frame. Your fingers toyed with her till she finally came, squirting all over the floor. Coming back to your senses, you try to shake it off, slight shame overrunning you. You didn't want to take any pleasure from this.

Going into room 2, you saw Chaeryoung lightly panting, a light coat of sweat over her skin as she tried to stifle her arousal from the vibrator.

Setting up the woman you had brought in, you placed her right opposite to Chaeryoung, then moving to Chaeryoung, ripping her blindfold off.

As Chaeryoung's vision steadied, she could vaguely make out a figure who she assumed to be Ryujin, or Yuna maybe, but as her vision cleared, she almost screamed in terror.

Across from Chaeryoung, hung in a similar fashion, and in the same exact fashion, was her sister, Lee Chaeyeon.

[lirotation]

This set is done =D

Putting it together with a fanfic.

Dancing Across Faerûn

Spawn Astarion X Female Tav, fluff. Post game, on the journey to search for a cure.

The aged tome lay open before Amaara. She leaned in, squinting to make out the faded text as the nights blurred together. A promising lead at last began to take shape...

Suddenly, familiar arms encircled her from behind as Astarion's chin came to rest on the top of her head. "Still poring over those dusty books, my dear?" he purred, "It's well past time you retired for the evening."

Amaara waved him off distractedly. "In a moment. I'm so close to..."

Astarion turned her chair around, “Oh, no, eyes on me.”

With a sly wink, he began to unbutton his shirt with exaggerated slowness. Amaara's eyes widened as she realized his intent. Piece by piece, his clothing puddled to the floor until he stood gloriously nude before her.

Then, as only he could, Astarion launched into an impromptu lap dance - swaying his hips and running his hands over his body in a practiced routine that would surely make even the most experienced courtesan blush.

By the time he finished by straddling Amaara's lap and crushing his lips to hers in a searing kiss, any thought of research had completely evacuated her mind. She could only gaze at him with a mixture of desire and exasperated fondness as he broke the kiss with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Bed. Now," Astarion commanded with a husky growl.

"Only if you teach me how to dance like that."

“It’s too advanced for you just yet, my pupil, let's continue your lesson for the horizontal dance first.”

Amaara couldn't help but laugh, even as she allowed him to tug her to her feet.

She knew she had a tendency of being single-minded, rushing headlong into everything as if it were a critical mission. An intense focus that had served her well in battle, but often caused her to neglect the simpler pleasures in life.

She was grateful to have Astarion by her side. He was full of life.  His very presence was a reminder to occasionally pause and truly savor the journey they were on together - not just endure it.

There were the inevitable hardships of life on the road - long days of hard travel, scratching out camps in the wilderness, and more than a few close brushes with dangerous beasts and unsavory folk. But those challenges seemed insignificant compared to the wealth of fond memories.

Amaara's mind drifted back to the spectacle of their first stop in Waterdeep, where Astarion had effortlessly charmed them into one of the city's most exclusive noble's balls. She could still see the look of devilish glee on his face as he bowed deeply and offered his hand. "My lady, would you honor me with this dance?"

Who was she to refuse such gallantry? With an elegant curtsy, she had taken his hand and allowed him to whisk her into a waltz amid the candlelight and champagne. 

For once, she just enjoyed the moment and the swirl of the dance.

Sometimes their travels found them staying in decidedly lower-end dwellings. Amaara vividly recalled one particular evening at a rather disreputable brothel.

She had been casting cleanse spells on everything in the room when the raucous sounds of music and laughter filtered up from the lobby below.

Before she knew it, Astarion was at her side, eyes gleaming with mischief. He grasped her by the wrist, flashing that irresistible smirk. "Shall we dance, my dear?"

Amaara tried to pull back with an awkward laugh. "Oh, I couldn't possibly. I don't know the steps..."

But he simply tsked, refusing to release his gentle grip as he tugged her toward the door. "Then you'll follow my lead."

She didn't have a chance to protest further before he swept her into the rowdy fray below. courtesans and patrons spun energetically to the driving beat. Before Amaara could catch her breath, Astarion pulled her in close, one arm snaking possessively around her waist.

Then, they were moving - his hips rolling sinuously against hers as he guided her into the smoldering rhythms of a tango. She could only gaze up at him, wide-eyed and flustered, as he led her through the heated, intimate steps.

His eyes burned into hers with a look that made her heart flutter. One calloused hand traced tingling lines up the curve of her spine as he dipped her into a deep backbend, bodies melding together. By the time he drew her backup, chest heaving, Amaara's face was flushed bright crimson.

The memory of that dance, of being so utterly undone in his arms, still brought a fierce blush to her cheeks.

Amaara's mind drifted to another fond memory - this one taking place in a small town they had passed through. The townsfolk were in the midst of some local celebration, gathered in the square as lively folk music spilled out into the streets.

She had always harbored a secret longing to join in the kind of unbridled communal dancing she witnessed, but had never had anyone to dance with. This time, however, she turned eagerly to Astarion with an huge grin.

"Oh, will you dance with me, please?" she asked, giving his arm a playful tug. "I've wanted to take part in one of these since I was a little girl."

Astarion raised one elegant eyebrow, “How unsophisticated.” Before her smile faded, he continued, “but how could I refuse such an earnest plea?”

He seized her hand and led them out into the swirling dancers and began leading her through a series of joyfully choreographed turns and circles.

Soon they were whirling amid the crowd, all cares forgotten in that moment. Amaara couldn't resist throwing back her head with a pearl of unfettered laughter, brown locks bouncing freely.

When she turned her bright smile back toward Astarion, she was surprised to find him chuckling as well. His deep crimson eyes sparkled with mirth, face awash in an unguarded expression of pure delight she didn't often see him wear.

Amaara's wandering mind was abruptly pulled back to the present as Astarion rolled them over, pinning her to the bed with his weight. His lips found hers in a deep, searching kiss that made her toes curl.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, she gazed up at him. This passionate lover, this mentor who had taught her to seize life's pleasures with unbridled zeal - had once been subjected to centuries of unspeakable torture and abuse. The fact that he did not merely survive that unimaginable hardship, but emerged with his radiant lust for living defiantly intact, left Amaara in awe. 

She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Despite the dark horrors he had endured, despite the vampiric curse inflicted upon him, Astarion still embraced each new day as a precious gift. His rich laughter rang out freely and without restraint - the most triumphant of melodies after the dissonance of his past. To him, the scenery unfolding with every winding mile was worthwhile in itself. Each experience, no matter how small, was relished and savored to its fullest.

He is living proof that no burden, no matter how oppressive, could extinguish the indomitable essence of the soul.

Yes, they are on a mission, but there will be no frantic marching or single-minded zeroing toward the end goal. Instead, they will dance every step of the journey, spinning wildly through every rise and fall of the Realms.

[tooturtly]

Still on my locked tomb and feudalism bullshit, so here’s a discussion of John, and how I think he systematically uses the decentralized nature of the Nine Houses to avoid the realities of being God.

Essentially, what it says on the tin, but first, context. (Can you tell I’m somehow more unhinged now?). Feudalism is a political structure with a fair amount of decentralization of power. It usually came about in the past after a larger government/political system collapsed, such as Rome. Essentially, a King/Emperor cannot feasibly run large amounts of territory, with the citizens of those territories being from diverse backgrounds and customs, without a lot of loyal subordinates helping out. Enter the nobility.

The nobility do the work of running the lands so that the King/Emperor doesn’t have to maintain a large bureaucracy to, let’s say, collect taxes from each individual person, hold a census, or run a court of law. This does not mean the ruler gets to fuck off, they do have responsibilities to the realm, their court, their knights, and the nobles who support them. Some people have to like you to remain in power, otherwise you get assassinated.

So what does all this have to do with John? Well, first, I think it’s safe to say from what we’ve seen that the Nine Houses are very similar to a feudalist system. You have a collection of independent, semiautonomous populations that can generally keep themselves together. They have slightly different takes on religion, loyalty to the empire, and necromancy, but they are all unified under it.

Second, I think we can also say that John has a very specific perception of himself that does not always align with the reality. He wears worn, casual clothes that are not the type of thing anyone else wears, but includes a crown of infant bones. He has a casual, relaxed attitude, but also can pull out a speech about avenging death and fighting for the empire seemingly off the top of his head. He doesn’t want Harrow to treat him like God, yet also constantly quotes works from a world nobody but he can remember. His narration of his actions in Nona paint him as seeing what he did as something anyone would do, as not that bad, as the act of a desperate, passionate man. Yet he also rebuilt the world to make himself God and Emperor above everyone else, the head of a ten thousand year long grudge campaign.

The contradiction is inherent in his title, man who became god, and god who is man. Harrow especially points out moments where he seems mortal, human, calling attention to how he otherwise appears completely separate and divine.

John is a complicated character. People smarter than me have written more with better evidence laid out. What I’m trying to get at though is that, to me, John reads as a man who cannot view himself as having vast amounts of power over others on the regular. To a certain extent he has to view himself as ‘just a little guy’ so he doesn’t have to reconcile with the actions that have caused massive amounts of harm. He wants the Lyctors to be his friends and associates, rather than their boss.

The structure of the Nine Houses helps with that. He doesn’t have to regularly speak to the average citizen, or deal with the daily problems of the people and their Houses, or hell, even the people he’s conquered. Mercymorn says something in Harrow about how the Emperor’s seat is the Mithraeum, the place light years away from the people he is supposed to allegedly rule. The place only realistically accessible by traveling through the River, a feat only possibly by Lyctors (for the most part). And we learn that he’s only been away from that for 80 years, and he assumedly spent most of his previous ten thousand years there.

Because he is at the top of the power structure, he can lose himself in the bigger picture and forget about the reality, which is the fact that he is running a colonial Empire that requires the biological death of planets and people to survive.

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.