#starting to look a bit more regal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fvsm4x · 2 months ago

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

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

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

+ word count. 9.1k (Oppsie daisy)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he really that inexperienced?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, he simply watched,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sh1-n0bu · 1 month ago

Text

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

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the-flaneur · 12 days ago

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dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag.

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,”

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously.

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?”

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

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thebramblewood · 2 months ago

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Noble Vampires: Elle DeVampiro, Inna Cents, Vlad Bloodvein

(These are all clearly corny vampiric pseudonyms, aren't they?)

As you can see, I strayed pretty far from their original designs, especially with Elle and Vlad! As they fit into the context of my story, I see them as among the oldest and most elite vampires in Forgotten Hollow. They're all nobles from different eras and so were used to being waited on hand and foot, which didn't change when they became vampires. They've always been surrounded by a coterie of human thralls and lesser vampires who fulfill their every need so they never have to lift a finger.

But there are certain consequences to this eternal life of luxury. As vampires grow older, their powers can grow more potent - but the opposite is also true. If they allow their mental and physical capabilities to languish, they stagnate and eventually atrophy, leading to visible deterioration. These three are extremely delusional and out of touch with reality. They live in their own little fantasies, fully believing they look every bit as flawless and regal as they ever did even as the cracks are very much starting to show. Although their age and status intimidate younger vampires and they have their little "hazing rituals" for newborns, they're ultimately quite harmless.

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 vampires #sims 4 vampires #the zhaoverse #inna cents #elle devampiro #vlad bloodvein #btw inna still (mostly) has her beauty because she's the youngest

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 10 months ago

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 11 ] || [ Chapter 13 ]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i'm in love with gaz x2 date scene fully inspired by this artwork by @mindie-arts

Chapter 12: A Date?

Sitting across from Gaz in the warm japanese restaurant under a warm-toned lamp, you find yourself a bit flustered by how cute he looks.

Sure, you knew he was cute, of course… His pictures on Tinder more than showed it. He’s the epitome of a pretty boy, all polite and sweet, smiling bright, with those warm brown eyes that look more like pools of melted chocolate that you could find yourself sinking into like quicksand.

He ordered extra meat for himself and is currently scooping it into his bowl of Tonkotsu Ramen as you regale him with your tales of your night with Simon.

“Now, hold on-” He stopped you just as you were biting into your jammy soft-boiled egg.

“Hm?” You questioned as you cocked a brow.

“So… Let me get this straight-” He said as he slowly stirred the slices of pork in the hot broth of his ramen. “You and Ghost didn’t-” He trailed off.

“No!!! I already told you!” You replied as you shoved the rest of your halved egg into your mouth and chewed.

“Hm…” Kyle replied with a bit of an awkward smile as he started softly slurping his noodles.

“Why, ‘Hm’? What does that mean?” You asked him with a cocked brow. Kyle simply shook his head and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I just think it’s… curious.” He admitted and shrugged. “Like… Simon is very secretive.” He explained.

“I’ve gotten that impression off him.” You replied, but Kyle nodded.

“Yeah but for a stranger, it’s easy to spot that, to understand it. But… We’ve all served with him for years now and we know nothing of him.” He explained with a shrug and an awkward smile again.

As you heard him talk, you slurped your noodles as well, holding the bowl up to your mouth as you did so.

“Soap even gasped when he found out that Ghost had a Tinder account, and the way he was chatting when he went on a date with you, well…” He trailed off and took a bite of one of his eggs as well.

“I wouldn’t call it a date.” You replied as you set down your bowl and took a sip of your drink. Across from you, Gaz did the same, sipping from his Stella Artois glass.

“You met on a dating app, had drinks, went back to yours, spent the night together… That’s a date.” He retorted and you nod your head, conceding to his point.

“Fine… I guess…” You sighed. “But I still don’t see what the big deal is.” You added. “He seems… nice. A bit weird… But nice.” You explained. “He seems like he just… needs a break.” You added and half-shrugged.

Kyle’s head dipped a bit to the side and he regarded you with gentler, softer eyes, quietly contemplating what you said.

“You’re really nice.” He ended up saying after a moment then he pressed his lips together for a moment as he watched you eat.

“Fanks.” You mumbled halfway through chewing a piece of your pork slices.

“Simon was there, you know… When you went to meet Captain Price. Just to make sure you were, you know… Normal.” Gaz quipped, which caused your eyes to widen.

“He was?” You asked sharply, your voice rising an octave for a moment.

“Ye… He… He doesn’t trust easy.” He replied.

“I’ve noticed.” You added, still a bit put off by the news.

“Well, anyway…” He trailed off. “He uh… he came back to base after you and him left the pub and he told us you were nice, normal…” He explained. “And he said that the captain was a bit reticent to be there and you were both feeling awkward… And you so sincerely told him he could leave if he wanted to and that he didn’t need to force himself to be there.” Gaz explained.

Your eyes widened a bit and your face warmed up lightly as he revealed that he knew of how you had reassured John.

“So… I guess… I guess I see it now.” Kyle admitted. “You’re very… gentle.” He ended up after searching for the right word. “A right laugh, funny as fuck, very bratty… But… nice and kind.” He added. “It’s no wonder they both felt good with you, especially Ghost.”

“Well… thanks.” You said softly, smiling sheepishly, and he did the same as he resumed eating.

“Do you feel… good with me too?” You asked him with a cocked brow and pursed lips.

Nodding at you, Kyle smiled. “Yeah, I’d say I do.” He said as he slurped his noodles again.

You resumed eating as well and, sometimes, you’d glance at one another and smile sheepishly before looking away and focusing on your meals.

“So…” You said as you reached over and dipped a gyoza in the soy sauce. “Did you really fall out of a helicopter?” You asked, which caused his eyes to light up with amusement.

“I did.” He answered with a nod and a grin on his lips.

“How did that happen?” You cocked a brow.

Thirty minutes later, you and Gaz are walking side to side as you head back to work. He’s spent most of the time regaling you with stories about work (with the proper censorship of events, dates, places and people).

You barely got a word in and yet, somehow, you don’t mind. You’re surprisingly entertained by him, by the way his eyes light up when he speaks, the way his smile grows every time a story gets a bit more action-packed…

If you didn’t know by now that he’s a soldier (and an elite one, if his stories are to be believed), you’d have called him out by now by making it all up… But he also showed you a few of his scars to prove he wasn’t lying.

As you reach the front door of your workplace, he’s just finishing up his latest story, just in time. You still have a couple of minutes to burn so you linger with him, hands clasped in front of you, as he has his own on the front pocket of his blue hoodie.

“Thanks for this.” You told him with a smile, watching as his face morphed in confusion.

“Thanks for what?” He asked you with a cocked brow and a smile on his lips.

“Well… everything? Buying me lunch, telling me so many stories, walking me to work…” You listed and chuckled. “I haven’t gotten this type of… attention in a while.” You explained.

Kyle gives you a look of disbelief. “You’ve been going out with Ghost, what do you mean you don’t-” He started but you interrupted him with a sharp ‘That’s different!’.

“Simon is very nice and I enjoyed myself greatly with him but something tells me he wouldn’t exactly want to go out for ramen on my lunch break in broad daylight, without a mask.” You quipped playfully.

“Ah- yeah, I see your point.” Kyle joked a bit.

“And, besides… I got out of a… trainwreck of a relationship recently…” You explained as you shifted your weight around on the balls and heels of your feet.

“Is that why you were on Tinder?” He asked as he dipped his head to the side in understanding.

“Mhm.” You nodded and smiled softly. “Anyway…” You trailed off. “It’s nice to have someone make time to meet up with me during lunch break and… you know… Have a date!” You replied.

“Oh it’s a date, is it?” He asked you with a smirk on his lips and a wiggling of his eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off…” You quipped and nudged him on the shoulder with your hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute…”

Kyle’s lips parted into a boyish grin as he looked at you. “You think I’m cute?” He asked, amused.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him again and he simply laughed playfully in response.

Checking the time on your phone, you sighed. “I should go upstairs.” You told him and he nodded.

“Have a good rest of your day. And text me, yeah? I’d like to repeat this.” Kyle told you and you nodded too, smiling sheepishly.

“I plan on it.” You added and leaned up, kissing his cheek, just like you did with Simon a couple of weeks before.

Kyle smiled and chuckled softly when you pulled away. He leaned close and kissed your cheek in return, causing your cheeks to burn a bit.

You waved at him and rushed back inside your workplace. Standing outside in the pavement, Kyle watched you go through the windows, with a smile and returned the wave with a raising of his hand and a single little wave before tucking his hands back in his pockets and walking off again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!): @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader

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101maverick · 6 months ago

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Damian Wayne Ah Ghul with a reader who is super shy? Like she meets his family and she's practically hiding behind Damian? No pressure, but I'm just a naturally shy person myself.

A/n: I've been thinking of a meeting like this for a while now! tho in my daydreams the reader is a lot more bubbly and stuff, but this one is super fun too! I think I might write them both out :) When it comes to Damian I tend to envision him around his canon age (12ish I think?) because it gives me agency to explore puppy love and I find it so cute! Plus I'm a sucker for school shenanigans hehe🤭 Here Damian is around 15-16 :) Hope you enjoy!! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

Word count: 1642

Meeting the Family

Your hands are clammy.

Not even overtly so, just enough to make you uncomfortable, to get that unbearable out-of-place sensation one always gets when something's slightly wrong and it feels like life has decided to point a spotlight to it.

You nervously adjust your dress' skirt, fiddling with the hem to make sure it sat at just the right height. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time picking it out, having Damian come by your house earlier than necessary to make sure your choice was appropriate for this occasion, along with your hair and what little makeup you had decided to put on.

He had assured you countless times that you 'could never be anything less than far above standard' , and while that did put you at ease you still have to do your best to relax as you build up the courage to enter the house, Damian waiting by your side.

You and Damian had started 'dating' around three months ago now, and this was your first time meeting his family.

Whenever you think back to how he proposed to you a chuckle curls your lips upward, remembering how out of your depth you felt as he announced his intent of 'courting' you while he held a baby kitten out to you.

The memory loosens you up a bit, and you nod to Damian, who rings the doorbell. He's been holding your hand the whole time, something you find extremely sweet. He gives your hand a squeeze.

Sooner than you'd like, the door opens and you are greeted by the Wayne family's butler, who your boyfriend had informed you is basically like a grandfather figure for them.

He’s an older man, standing tall in a prim and creaseless suit despite his age. His eyes crinkle as the corners of his mouth uptick just the slightest bit, remaining composed as he greets you two.

“Ah, Master Damian, you have finally returned with our guest I see.” He says, looking at your boyfriend. He then turns to you. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, miss…” he trails off.

You can feel your cheeks burn up, and your tongue tangles up as you haste to give him your name. You try to downplay the stutter as much as you can, and rush through the rest of greetings and pleasantries. “It is very nice to meet you as well, mr. Pennyworth.”

Mr. Pennyworth just nods curtly and opens the door wider, making space for you and Damian to enter. "I am glad, miss. Please, follow me to the sitting room." After a nod from Damian, he turns around and starts walking down the hallway to the left of the grand staircase the Manor's foyer opens up to.

The ceiling is extremely tall in this part of the house, two stories high at the very least. The ancient mahogany of the staircase is intricately carved, and the deep, rich blue-green carpet covering the steps gives the entire ensemble a much more regal look, with the way it matches the curtains that are pulled apart to let in all the midday light from the six-feet tall arch windows. It feels way too regal for someone like you.

Damian, on the other hand, looks completely in his element. Not only is this his house, he just fits in with this sort of environment, this regal, sophisticated, high-class one. The blue-green of the curtains and carpets makes the emerald of his eyes pop, and the dark mahogany compliments his tanned skin, reflecting the golden glow of the sun.

Looking at him, you feel a bit surer of yourself, and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance. You're just meeting his family. You can do this.

Mr. Pennyworth leads you to the sitting room. Damian's entire family is lounging there, the majority sitting up while a few rest on the plush couches and chairs. The moment you step foot in the doorway, all conversation stops and all eyes turn toward you.

You can't do this.

————————————

Each of the Wayne family members are here, it seems, and the more you stand there the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

All of these people have been gathered here today for a family lunch because you have come over, and dang if that doesn't make you feel like the inconvenience of the year.

Only a fool doesn't know about how important each of them is, and you certainly aren't one.

Richard "Dick" Grayson, world-class acrobat and notorious heartthrob since his teens, and he surely has better places to be today than here. Keeping up with all of his connections is basically a full-time job, with how Gotham socialites are.

Jason Todd, recently come back from his years-long trip around the world, could be playing golf with the Prince of England right now instead of meeting his youngest brother's high-school girlfriend.

Timothy Drake, at nineteen is C.E.O. of Drake Industries and Bruce Wayne's representative for Wayne Enterprises, right now he could be closing billion-dollar business deals.

Duke Thomas, had graduated from high school at sixteen and at eighteen is in the most prestigious chemistry program in the Continent, he could be studying for the cure of cancer right now.

Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne's only daughter and an extremely elusive person for the media, you're sure she'd much rather a virtual stranger wasn't snooping around in her family's home.

There are also two other people, a red-haired woman that looks to be around Dick Grayson's age and a blonde girl around nineteen.

And, of course, there's Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Billionaire, philanthrope, C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, arguably the most important person in Gotham and certainly the richest person in New Jersey. One of his charities is always in sight every time you turn a corner on the street in Gotham Proper, his company's name is plastered on almost every single electronically device you can find, and his name is always in the mouth of the press, making headlines day in-day out.

Oh Gosh, you can already imagine it. 'Lowly peasants thinks she can date his son, Brucie Wayne obliterates her and her dynasty'.

Before you know it, your breathing has become laboured and you're standing pressed to Damian's side, trying to fuse with his shadow.

You have no idea how you're gonna hold a conversation with all of these people.

Damian, bless him, saves you. "If you all could quit ogling my beloved like imbeciles, we could go on with introductions." His chin is held up high, and he takes turns staring into each of his family members' eyes, as if daring them to object. With the way he's standing, his body almost covers you, giving you a blanket of security that allows you to relax.

The rest of the room's occupants regain their composure, and Mr. Wayne breaks out into a blinding smile, coming up to you.

"Pardon me! We just hadn't heard you coming down the hallway is all. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Mr. Wayne holds out his hand, and you shake it. His grip is gentle. "Come in, please, make yourself comfortable."

Damian guides you to a couch next to which is a window. The rays of sun catch in his dark hair, reflecting almost-blue. He looks at you, and as he does so you relax. Damian may rarely show it but he has an extremely expressive face, and you have learned to read it.

Right now you read sureness in his jaw, calmness in the set of his brow and something warm and reassuring in the slightest widening of his eyes, the one that happens specifically when e tilts his head downwards to fix his gaze better in yours.

"I must admit I've been waiting for this moment for a good while, I was very curious. Damian has talked a lot about you."

Your eyebrows raise. You start fidgeting with Damian's hand in your lap. "Oh, he-he has?" It comes out as a mumble. You'd beat yourself up over it in normal circumstances but as it stands, you're just glad you are talking at all.

This thought is overshadowed by an eruption of laughter from further inside the room.

"Oh yes he has, the brat has been talking our ears off all day for months! By how he talks, he thinks you've hung the moon and the stars in the night sky." A cackle follows the sentence. You're pretty sure your cheeks are on fire.

Next to you, you notice the tips of Damian's ears turn darker. "Quit your complaining, Todd. It is not my fault if everything you do is subpar compared to her every action."

"Da-Damian!" You whisper-yell next to him, "You can't just say that!"

"Oh, don't worry," Pipes up someone from a chair. You recognise him as Timothy Drake. "Seeing as you've put up with him for months, I think we all believe it. It takes the patience of a saint to do that." He says, a slight smirk on his face.

The rising of cackles in the air and the indignant squawk from Damian pull a little giggle from you, and you squeeze Damian's hand while Dick Grayson placates him.

Mr. Pennyworth, who had disappeared down the hallway after you had reached the sitting room, reappears at the entrance. 1679

“Masters, Misses, the lunch is ready. If you may follow me to the dining room…”

“Thank you Alfred.” Says Mr. Wayne, and after a curt nod from the butler everyone files out of the sitting room.

As you take your place next to Damian at the dining table, listening to Damian and Timothy bicker, you feel more at ease than you ever hoped of feeling while waiting on the front steps.

Your hand is warm in Damian’s still.

————————————

A/n: I wish I had been able to put more Damian/Reader interaction in this but in order for it to work in my vision of their eventual relationship I need them to be alone so unfortunately it couldn't happen for this pic :( I do have more Damian x Reader requests in my inbox tho so there's a high chance I'll be able to expand on it! Plus I'm considering making a list of head canons for Damian and Reader's relationship >:)

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin #dc robin #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #jason todd #tim drake #timothy drake #dick grayson #cassandra clare #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #dc #dcugifs #dc universe #damian wayne fanfiction #maverick’s prompt fill

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mmani-e · 8 months ago

Text

Hello! After all this effort, behold:

DANGANRONPA DEMIX, THH EDITION!

Dr Demix 2

Finally got the talentswap designs I have for the THH characters one and done with! You can click through the read more section for some fun design insights. I'm intending on uploading a doc containing short lore bits about them eventually.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ultimate Affluent Progeny

So Kyoko's design was both kinda simple, kinda not, wanted to give her a very fine and regal kinda attitude to her but not arrogant as that's very much Byakuya's thing. Her story is that she loves her dad more than the family business and her grandpa so she abandons detective work and just uses her brain to help her dad out.

Makoto Naegi - Ultimate Novelist

Makoto is a wonderful guy, just great all around. He loves writing children's books and happy stories. This is his main coping mechanism so he doesn't have to process any negative emotions he gets, the rest he can't process… well they go into a murderous psychopath alter.

Aoi Asahina - Ultimate Lucky Student

Shoujo protagonist Aoi. Cute, headstrong, affective, competitive, these are all the traits that make her fight for her friends and clash with Kyoko (and more often than not Byakuya) in the killing game, even when all hope seems lost… she pushes through, unafraid to let tears spill from her eyes for all those lost, but pushing all the same.

Byakuya Togami - Ultimate Detective

This one, I wanna go into more lore territory, cause I kinda memed around his last desc I gave him so here goes:

"A disgraced heir of the Togami household, Byakuya lost the competition that would've secured his riches. Disdainful and bitter, he sought out to get to the bottom of why he lost, uncovering a rabbit hole in the process. By the end, he proved his sibling a cheater, but it didn't matter because by the end as he found the sweet satisfaction of uncovering secrets and crushing liars and cheaters under the weight of their hubris far more satisfying than any inheritance."

Sayaka Maizono - Ultimate Spirit Medium

So Sayaka isn't a clairvoyant at all like Yasuhiro, in fact her entire skillset is completely different, first of all she is like an actual psychic, and I based her design off of the japanese Itako, quite loosely. Very interesting group, look it up, also she'll never use these powers in the killing game because I dunno how to even approach these rituals or what they look like or how to write them while remaining respectful, so she won't do it in a killing game for the express reason of her not having the right tools available and not wanting to disrespect her traditions.

Leon Kuwata - Ultimate Swimmer

I really wanna draw him again, all these characters again tbh, and I wanna show off the patterns on his wetsuit. It's a whole coral reef under there, that anemone and clownfish bit is only one part of a whole reef stretching his midline.

Sakura Ogami - Ultimate Programmer

Sakura has installed chips into her body to help optimize her body processes and also cause why not. As for the muscles, she's an Assembly programmer, the programs she's made can run on calculators she loves it.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Ultimate Martial Artist

Chihiro's design here with the two belts is an explicit nod to his preferred martial art - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so unlike Sakura in canon who'd be easy to imagine cracking someone's skull in half with a chop, Chihiro's approach is more crawling onto someone and bringing them down to the floor with grappling like an angry halfling monk. As for the belts themselves, on his head is his final junior belt, while around his waist is his current belt, he's not a black belt yet because he's still too young for it.

Celestia Ludenberg - Ultimate Baseball Star

Celestia actually isn't a legend in this AU, Taeko is. Celestia hates that and wants to start a baseball career going international, whatever the hell that means is up to her own definition, but she wants to be remembered forever as Celestia, not Taeko. Also extra sentence, but this is the SINGLE hardest design I've ever had to deal with here, I think in the future I'll be drawing all her little accessories and I have an alt costume for her I have in mind.

Hifumi Yamada - Ultimate Pop Star

So I changed Hifumi's story as I originally outlined in the OG post with him. He was friends with Aoi all his life, pretty much his only friend at all, and ever since he was little he had an obsession with writing songs, because he was obsessed with stuff like anime openings and was content to just keep the songs to himself. It wasn't till Aoi convinced him to share some of his songs that he started his journey to success, but bc he's not traditionally attractive, his first hits were literally just… his voice being played over other more attractive singers and it wasn't until very very recently that he even performed a song of his for the first time.

Toko Fukawa - Ultimate Fanfic Writer

So while Hifumi was clearly a Doujinshi but due to weird translation, ended up as fanfic creator, Touko is straight up a FF then Wattpad then AO3 girl, who would get obsessed with this really shitty, tripe manga that she didn't even like reading. It did however have super hot dudes in it, so she wrote good stories of those characters when she got frustrated with the actual authorial content - which was always.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Ultimate Gambler

Quite LITERALLY the never stop gambling meme personified into a guy. He can lose 3 mil on slot machines but always comes out fine because it means if he keeps gambling he'll eventually run into his 1/3 and win giga millions, what he needs to pay off his debts. It isn't just with luck though either because his personality and lack of intelligence or understanding of most the rules of the games he plays means he'll never react the way he should when getting a good hand in poker or a bad draw in blackjack, so he wins those games almost always through just… stupidity.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Ultimate Biker

She's number 16 in her gang, and is easily the most loyal enforcer and taskman of the gang. She does anything she's told, to a grim and disciplined degree not typical for hooligan bike gangers, she doesn't really desire a seat as top dog of the gang though, after all she's got school to worry about, and her sister.

Mondo Owada - Ultimate Warlord

So his relationship and Kiyotaka's is gonna be interesting, because I don't want him to be exactly like Mukuro at all, who was just sort of an all-obsessed Yandere. It's more like he's always chafing under Taka, who is less than friendly with him in this AU, really the main way he even lets Taka boss him around is because he pays incredibly well and helps keep his gang members from devolving back into the unstructured, chaotic criminal life, the same that took his brother years ago.

Oh and yeah, he still looks like Guile, as he should.

Sparkling Justice - Ultimate Killer Killer

Yeah it's a reference to Killer Killer, sue me I love the manga. He has Hajirahara's ahoge, and I thought it'd be cute to also give him a mask just like the other Makoto from a Kodaka game series (Raincode.) Also, while Genocide jack stuffs all her scissors in her skirt, Makoto keeps a truth gun with "truth bullets" as his main weapon, the gun he stores inside the big book in the chibi of just Makoto, and the bullets kept on his person as the red buttons all over his body, which he pulls out when he needs to reload.

"Kiyotaka Ishimaru" - Ultimate Fashionista

Unlike Mukuro and Junko, Mondo absolutely cannot hide the fact that he acts nothing like Kiyotaka, though this is surprisingly fine to everyone else, because unlike Junko who plastered herself onto literally everything, Mondo always obfuscated himself from the public spotlight, at most showing only his suits while he hid his face behind something conveniently placed. Which played primarily to his vision of an ultimate fashionista, who was above everyone and catered to the rich and powerful.

Junko Enoshima - Ultimate Moral Compass

This was a fun one, I decided to let her have her red hair because I believe it to be the "natural" look of her hair, while attaching little clips of dyed hair to her buns as a replacement to keep her shape sorta and keep the strawberry blonde somwehere on her. Understand that while she is the "moral compass" she is still pretty deranged, and the only reason she focuses so much on keeping everyone on their best behavior is because it's endlessly entertaining to her to make her fellow moral committee members upset when she blatantly makes a mockery of the rules while still keeping kids on their best behavior to make a point.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Ultimate Fashionista and Tyrant, the Iron Hand of Despair

Taka's design I wanted to sort of focus on this sort of, holier-than-thou idea, where I wanted to make him look a lot fancier and upper-class than Junko does in his standard highschool fit compared to him. I wanted him to have an upper-crust sort of look

If you're reading this after reading this all, thanks! You're a wonderful person :) Signing off...

Mani

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 1 year ago

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DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #everlasting trio #ghost king phantom #Violet and Nemo become the darlings of the Justice League #the two hellions run around the watch tower whenever possible #Wonder Woman sneaks them candy whenever possible #Dani stops in one day to meet her niece and nephew #the three proceed to cause chaos together #most of the time if you see the twins at least one of the trio is with them #if not one of the trio then some member of the Justice League #and if none of the trio or the Justice league is around #then Fright Knight is assigned guard duty #lord help the soul of anyone that try’s to mess with the prince and princess of the ghost zone #because non of the above mentioned people will show them any mercy

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atinyslittleworld · 1 month ago

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Claimed

mingi x f!reader

Summary: A fun night at the club with her best friend Mingi takes a sharp turn when a creepy guy refuses to leave Y/N alone.

Word Count: 1,6k

Genre: dark romance, friends-to-lovers

Warnings: creepy guy is persistant, protective/possessive dynamics

The club was alive with music, the bass pounding so hard it felt like it was reverberating through Y/N’s bones. She’d been having a good time with Mingi and the rest of the Ateez crew, dancing and laughing under the strobe lights, feeling free for the first time in what felt like forever.

But then, out of nowhere, some stranger started hovering around her, inching closer with every beat of the music. At first, she thought he was just moving through the crowd, but after a few more songs, it was obvious he was following her, his eyes lingering on her with a look that made her skin crawl. Every time she tried to shift away, he would step forward, moving into her space, his gaze dark and invasive.

Irritation turned quickly to unease as he edged even closer, his smile twisted with a smug arrogance. She tried to ignore him, but the prickle of fear that started creeping up her spine was harder to brush off. Feeling her pulse quicken, she looked around for Mingi, hoping he’d notice the tension in her face.

She found him near the bar, sitting on a stool, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking almost regal in his all-black outfit. His shirt was tucked loosely into his black pants, his dark hair styled back except for a few strands that had fallen over his forehead, giving him an effortlessly dangerous look. His gaze met hers, and instantly, she saw the glint of concern there, his expression hardening as he picked up on her distress.

Without a second thought, she moved toward him, weaving through the crowd until she reached his side. Mingi’s eyes flickered to the guy trailing behind her, his jaw clenching as he took in the situation. Silently, he spread his legs slightly, inviting her to stand between them as he reached out, his hand resting on her waist to guide her closer. She stepped in, feeling the warmth of his body against her as she placed her hands on his thighs, grounding herself in his presence.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze dark as he studied her face.

“No,” she murmured, her fingers gripping his thighs just a little tighter. “There’s this guy… He keeps following me, and he’s not getting the hint.” Her eyes darted back to the stranger, who was now standing a few feet away, watching them with an arrogant, challenging smirk. She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s starting to scare me, Mingi.”

The look in Mingi’s eyes turned ice-cold, his expression hardening as he took in the situation. His fingers tightened on her waist, a possessive, protective energy radiating off him that made her heart race.

“Stay right here,” he said, his voice a dangerous rumble. He opened his legs a bit wider, pulling her even closer until her body was pressed firmly between his thighs. His hand slid to the small of her back, keeping her anchored against him, his touch both protective and reassuring.

The guy smirked, stepping closer as if Mingi weren’t even there. His gaze skimmed over Mingi dismissively before landing on her again, his expression smug and entitled. “Really? You’re wasting your time with him?” he sneered, giving Mingi a look of contempt. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you a better time.”

Y/N felt a flash of anger rise up, but it was quickly replaced by a sharper, colder fear as the guy’s gaze traveled over her like he owned her. She instinctively pressed closer to Mingi, her hands gripping his thighs a bit harder as she fought to keep her composure.

Mingi, however, remained calm—but it was the kind of calm that felt like the quiet before a storm. He looked down at her, his thumb gently brushing against her side in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive, before turning his attention back to the guy.

The stranger was still smirking, like he thought this was some kind of game he was destined to win. Mingi’s jaw clenched, his gaze sharp and unyielding. There was something dark in his eyes, a coldness that warned of danger, of something not to be trifled with.

“I think you should walk away,” Mingi said, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a quiet, unspoken threat.

The guy chuckled, rolling his eyes as if Mingi was no threat at all. “And who do you think you are?” he sneered, stepping even closer. “You’re not her boyfriend, clearly. Why don’t you get out of the way?”

Mingi’s gaze darkened, his hand pressing her even closer. She felt the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed as he sized up the guy, his eyes never wavering. The stranger seemed to sense none of the danger radiating from Mingi, his grin widening.

And then, with a suddenness that made her pulse spike, Mingi’s fingers slid to her jaw, turning her face up to his, his voice a soft, possessive growl. “I’m sorry for this.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was fierce, searing, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head as he pulled her closer. It was like nothing she’d ever felt—possessive, protective, and full of a dark intensity that stole her breath away. Her fingers tightened on his thighs, her heart pounding as she leaned into him, losing herself in the heat of his kiss, in the strength of his arms around her. Everything else—the club, the music, even the creepy guy—faded away, leaving only the press of Mingi’s lips on hers, his body anchoring her in place.

She felt him tilt his head, deepening the kiss, and a soft gasp escaped her as her hands slid up, gripping the fabric of his shirt. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, matching the raw intensity of the moment. His thumb brushed along her waist, sending a shiver down her spine, as if to tell her she was safe, that he was right here and wasn’t letting go.

When he finally pulled back, his face remained close, his dark gaze locking onto hers with a heat that made her knees weak. She was breathless, her mind spinning as she realized the guy was gone, having finally backed off. But she barely registered it, too caught up in the look Mingi was giving her, the intensity in his eyes that made it clear this wasn’t just a game for him.

“Guess he got the message,” Mingi murmured, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing against her cheek.

She swallowed, nodding, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah… I guess he did.”

They stayed like that, his legs framing her, her hands still resting on his thighs, as the weight of what had just happened settled between them.

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez #song mingi #song mingi x reader #song mingi imagine #mingi imagines #mingi #mingi x reader

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sansaorgana · 1 month ago

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— SOMEPLACE BETTER (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!human!Reader

SUMMARY — Sauron takes over a body of a recently deceased commoner without realising that stealing this man's identity comes with a price to pay – enduring his annoying wife.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It was supposed to be a short fic and it turned out to be so long that there will be three parts... 🙊 I was writing it for a week – slowly, bit by bit each day after work. Sauron is a bit ooc here (and surely will be at the end of this fic), so be warned! 🤧 Also, I really wanted the Reader's character to be very common and low born, therefore I was reading how to change the speech to sound more like that and I hope I haven't overdone it... 😅 I hope she makes you laugh at least once while reading this! 💕

WORD COUNT — 3,850

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SOMEPLACE BETTER (I)

Sauron was walking down the road slowly, still trying to adjust to his new form – finally a proper one after such a long time of being barely alive – and he still had no idea how to start the work on his plan that he had been crafting for the past centuries. Perhaps naturally occurring events would lead him to the right path, therefore he allowed them to happen and waited for an opportunity to arise.

And in order to help the interesting things to start happening, he was walking towards the smoke and the fire he could see from the distance far beyond the trees.

As he walked and walked, he spotted a group of people coming out of the woods. Common villagers like a man he should pretend now to be as well – the one he had found in the back of the carriage and whose body he stole.

The body had been dead already anyway – for a day or perhaps two. When Sauron had taken that man's form, it was like giving him a new life, a new chance. Not that he needed those excuses. He would have done that anyway, even if the man had been still alive. Judging his clothes and the wagon he had been travelling in, he was a commoner. Even the cause of his death was far from noble – alcohol.

The people Sauron encountered on the road looked exhausted and miserable. They were carrying some of their belongings and most likely leaving their ruined homes, which were probably the ones burning at the moment.

“That way lies death, friend,” an old man told him when they walked up to one another as they crossed each other's paths.

Sauron walked past him.

“Then that is my path,” he only said.

“An army of Orcs moves against Men,” the old man warned him and Sauron froze as he turned around to see him better. “We were the fortunate ones.”

“Perhaps the fortunate ones were the first to die,” Sauron answered, challenging him. And the words indeed had an effect on an old man as he approached him closer and looked deep into Sauron's eyes.

“I know you've suffered. I can see it in your eyes,” he said. “There's another life waiting for you. You just have to turn toward it.”

But Sauron was not listening to him anymore as his eyes sparkled at the sight of an item hanging by the old man's belt. It was a pendant of some sort and it did not look like something a villager or a commoner would wear. There was a symbol engraved on it that looked quite regal.

“That heraldry,” Sauron pointed out. “What is it?”

“A symbol of kings, long-dead,” the old man sighed as he took the pendant into his hands to show it off better.

“Your family?” Sauron asked, out of curiosity, although he doubted that the answer would be positive.

“No. My family served them,” the man answered.

“Then why wear it?” Sauron wondered and his wonder was genuine because he could not understand why one would want to wear a symbol of his oppressors.

“As a reminder that our fates are never certain, that fortunes can turn, for even the most powerful,” the man answered with the wisdom that was often attributed to people his age and Sauron nodded in silence as it reminded him of the downfall he had been through as well.

“A grim reminder,” Sauron pointed out with a smirk.

“Or a hopeful one,�� the old man nodded. “A sure path may crumble, but there's always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good,” he added with a soft and genuine smile, to which Sauron could only answer with a matching one. “They say there's a place across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life,” he explained as more and more people walked past them.

Sauron furrowed his brows. He was sure the old man meant Númenor – a place that he surely wanted to visit himself and a place that was also on a list of things he needed to go to for his whole plan and scheme to succeed.

Just like he had been suspecting – the events would lead him where he needed to go on their own. He just had to let them unfold.

“Halbrand!” Some woman's scream made Sauron look around because he was curious to see what was happening.

There was a young woman amongst the walking people with her face dirty from the ashes and her hair ruffled. Her dress was linen and simple, patched in a few places. And in her hands she was carrying a basket but she dropped it the moment he turned around and with terror in his eyes, Sauron realised that she was running to him.

“Halbrand, ye son of a bitch!” She greeted him with words so awful and yet there were tears of joy and relief streaming down her cheeks as she opened her arms and pulled him close while sobbing. “I feared ye were lost to us! Sent yer sister to seek ye, but while she searched, the village was laid to ruin... attacked, it was, and...” The woman took a deep breath in and took a step back as she cupped his face and shook her head. “Ye filthy gambler, ye are... Missed all of it, ye did! Off drinkin' an' gamblin' like always, leavin' me here, alone as ever! I can't abide ye, ye wretched bastard!” She hit his chest with her fist as Sauron tried his best not to show the panic he was feeling on the inside.

A woman – especially like that – was not something he had planned to inherit alongside the body of the dead man he had found inside the carriage.

The woman he had killed must have been this man's sister and his name must have been Halbrand. A drunkard and a gambler. Most certainly not the best husband to this young woman either.

“Diarmid, this here's my husband – the one I've spoken of,” she sighed and looked at the old man who was smiling at them both. “That cursed bastard.”

“Now I see why he wanted to go back into that forest so badly. It was to find you, (Y/N),” the man whose name was apparently Diarmid told her and she rolled her eyes.

“Most like he wished me dead, so he might pry our last coins from my cold fingers an' be off to his taverns again,” she looked up at her husband with a scolding manner but despite her cruel joke and her words, Sauron could sense lots of affection in her, too.

“Don't be foolish, woman,” he tried to play along as he rolled his eyes and Diarmid chuckled.

“Ye're foolish, ye are! Best ye help me carry that basket, 'tis all I could salvage,” she dragged him behind her to the place where she had left her belongings. “An' where's yer sister, then?”

“She never made it,” Sauron quickly lied.

“Bless her soul, though it's no surprise. She was a drunkard, same as you. All yer kin are…”

“Don't start,” Sauron winced and lifted the basket to walk away from her.

If she was about to whine like that all the time, his patience would quickly run out. And as much as he would want to kill her even now to get rid of her, he knew that there were too many witnesses and he really wanted to go to Númenor with them, therefore he couldn't do anything suspicious. He had to wait for the right moment and then, he could kill this woman and be free of her annoying presence.

(Y/N)'s mouth was open constantly and she never failed to find a reason to complain about something. Sauron stopped paying attention to her words and only kept humming and nodding but the constant noise she was creating was slowly driving him insane.

In the evening men were busy with putting up small tents and women prepared the meal. It would take them a few days at least to get to the seaport, therefore they needed breaks.

When Sauron finished helping other men to put up one of the tents, he realised that most of them barely knew him. The people here were a mix of commoners from many villages around.

So, only his annoying wife was an obstacle to start a new life.

When he joined her side by the fire, she handed him a bowl full of soup that looked far from delicious but people around him were eating it eagerly either way, driven by hunger.

Sauron himself did not need to eat and this sort of food surely was not something he would consume for his own pleasure. However, not to look suspicious, he ate half of the bowl and offered the rest to (Y/N). She had finished her portion some time ago and still kept staring at the empty bowl as if she prayed for more food to magically show up there.

“There, have it,” he took her empty bowl and handed her his.

“Are ye certain, Hal? Yer stomach's an endless pit, it is!” She was visibly surprised.

“Eat,” Sauron ordered, a bit harshly. At least when she was eating, she was not talking.

She nodded at him and began slurping on the soup eagerly and Sauron fixed her ruffled hair a little, so she would present herself less ragged.

That gesture made her look up at him with a soft smile and Sauron forced a smile back.

Gods, how he detested her.

Sauron did not mind the cold temperature but he could sense that the air was cold on that night, even inside the tent. (Y/N) was laying next to him, still wearing her dress under a thin, patched blanket. She was trembling slightly and he was staring at the ceiling out of boredom. He did not need sleep.

“Can't find yer rest, love?” The softness of her whisper surprised him as he looked down to meet her gaze and she cracked a smile as she reached her hand to caress his cheek. Her fingers were ice cold.

“And you?” He asked.

“'Tis bitter cold in here,” she whined and Sauron wrapped his arms tight around her trembling body to pull her close. She immediately nuzzled herself into him and lowered her hand to place it on his chest. Her fingers began to caress dark and curly hair growing there.

He felt awkward like that but what surprised him the most about this experience was how oddly good it felt to be able to sense someone's touch on his skin. After long centuries of not even being a person, it surely was an extraordinary sensation.

“I'm sorry I wasn't there,” he told her, suspecting she wanted to hear that from her husband.

“I'm just glad ye're here now,” she looked up to meet his gaze and kissed him on the throat before laying her head on his chest again.

Sauron sighed as he looked back on the ceiling once more. Despite everything – she must have loved that awful man named Halbrand.

“Why do you love me, remind me?” Sauron asked in a whisper out of curiosity. He disguised himself with a playful smile as she laid her eyes upon him again and furrowed her brows.

“Ye must be jestin', Hal!”

“No, truly, I mean it. I'd like to hear it one more time. Just pretend I've knocked me head and forgotten all,” he winked at her and caressed her hair.

“I think ye must have,” she mumbled and laid her head, “for ye're so much nicer all of a sudden,” she teased and Sauron chuckled.

“I got afeared I'd lost you,” he lied but she was happy with the answer. “So then? Why do you love good ol' Halbrand?”

“Ye're neither good nor old,” (Y/N) giggled. “But I'll gladly tell ye how I've doomed meself for life and fallen for ye, ye bastard,” she added jokingly.

“Well, I'm all ears, then,” Sauron smirked, trying to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

“I've known ye since we were naught but children. Always a troublemaker, ye were,” (Y/N) began her story with a sigh. After yer mother's passing, yer father turned to drink, and there ye were, wanderin' with no ambition, no purpose. That was, until me old man took ye in, when ye were 'round seventeen, was it? He taught ye all he knew of smithery,” she smiled and Sauron's heart skipped a beat at the mention.

Was Halbrand a smith, too? The coincidence seemed to be nearly impossible and yet… Nearly as if it was a sign of some sort.

“And what was I then? A silly little goose, not even fifteen, watchin' ye work, battin' me lashes, but to ye, I was naught but a child, wasn't I?” (Y/N) chuckled. “Then one day, when I was seventeen meself, ye finally saw me as a woman. I've known from the start ye were no good, but I loved ye still. Just like my old man, I've a heart that's too soft,” she finished her story with a smile and raised her hand to brush his hair strands out of his face.

Sauron knew that she expected some declaration from her husband as well in return and even though he could treat her coldly, he assumed that the nicer he would be, the less annoying she'd act on the next day. He just had to keep her happy until an opportunity to kill her off would show up. And he couldn't possibly know when he would be able to get rid of her, therefore he had to play it safe – he didn't want to risk her being constantly complaining and annoying.

“That soft heart of yours is what I love the most about you,” he cracked a smile at her and booped her nose. “And that big mouth of yours, too… sometimes,” he added with a smirk.

“Ye must've truly been afeared for me, Hal, 'cause ye're all of a sudden so much kinder,” (Y/N)'s lips twitched into a nervous smile as her eyes glistened.

Sauron was a little taken aback by her words. He was not trying very hard to show her affection and he had been quite rude to her earlier, too. And all of that was enough to make her think he was too kind.

“A new life awaits us across the sea. We can start anew there. I want to be better to you,” Sauron shrugged his arms and (Y/N) smiled before she nuzzled her face into his chest as she yawned softly.

After a short while, he felt her muscles relaxing as her breath steadied itself. She was asleep now and he was just laying there and staring at the ceiling again, waiting for the night hours to pass.

The woman's sleep, however, was not calm or peaceful. After an hour or two, she began trembling and shaking, experiencing some sort of a nightmare and judging by the things she was mumbling, she was dreaming of the night when the Orcs had come and destroyed her village.

Her face was twisted with pain and terror as she was trying to fight the shadows which only existed inside her head now. Sauron wondered, however, if his dark presence could somehow influence and worsen her dreams.

“(Y/N), love, you're safe now,” he woke her up and her eyes opened rapidly as she took a few deep breaths and kept looking around, still scared. Her body was trembling and she began to sob. “(Y/N), I'm here now, go back to sleep,” Sauron tried to calm her down but nothing seemed to work and it looked like she was not fully aware that she was awake already.

Therefore, he put his hand over her forehead and put her to sleep with his craft. Her limbs weakened in an instant and she drifted off to the land of much nicer dreams now. Sauron himself focused hard on putting beautiful images inside her head – green and sunny fields of Valinor that he still remembered and to which he was not welcome anymore.

Perhaps (Y/N) complained a little less truly than on the first day but it didn't mean her mouth would ever shut. Sauron was fighting himself not to lash out at her and tell her to shut up at least ten times a day. He wondered how she was not getting tired from all this talking but he also learnt a very useful skill that most husbands possessed the knowledge of sooner or later – the art of letting her words go in one ear and out the other as he only hummed and nodded.

And as he watched some human couples travelling alongside them with their whiny offspring, he only thanked fate for not cursing him with a child as well. (Y/N) was an annoying obstacle but it could have been… so much worse.

Only one day of the road was ahead of them now as they would spend their last night in the tents before getting onto the ship. Sauron was playing with the awfully looking food inside of his bowl as he waited for (Y/N) to finish her meal and when she did, he handed her his.

“No,” she shook her head and he furrowed his brow. “Hal, I see what ye're doin', an' I'm fair surprised to see how much ye care for me these days, but ye can't keep on like this, eatin' only half meals. Ye need to eat, too, love.”

“I'm just not hungry,” Sauron insisted with an irritated sigh but she didn't seem to be convinced.

“Ye're worryin' me, Halbrand. I can't smell a drop of drink on ye, an' ye've stopped eatin' too. What's ailin' ye these days?” She asked and the amount of worry in her eyes nearly made him feel bad for not being an actor good enough.

“I lost my sister, nearly lost my wife, my home is gone, and now we go into the unknown. Go on, guess,” he rolled his eyes and (Y/N) looked down.

“Sorry, love,” she mumbled and took the bowl from him. “Ye're certain ye won't be eatin' this?” She glanced up and he nodded at her, softly. That was what finally convinced her and she finished the meal hungrily.

“I hope we won't be short of food in that place across the sea,” (Y/N) sighed and Sauron reached out to lift her chin up and force her to look into his eyes as she gave him a confused look.

“We won't. I'll see to it,” he gave her a false promise with her dead husband's lips and her whole face lit up at his words.

He let go of her chin and she moved slightly closer to him to put her head on his shoulder with a relieved sigh.

“We've lost all we had, an' yet… when I'm with ye, I feel safe,” she confessed. “I'm truly hopeful for our new life, Hal. Mayhaps we could start a family there,” she added shyly and Sauron froze at her words, although he pulled her closer and leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

“Yeah, mayhaps,” he mumbled.

As if he, Dark Lord Sauron, would ever even consider such a possibility. It was below him after all.

It was the middle of the night and they were finally on a ship to Númenor – all people together in one cabin but at least it was warmer this way. (Y/N) was sleeping next to Sauron, with her arm wrapped around his chest and her face nuzzled into his neck. Her breath and smile were peaceful because he made sure to put nice images inside her mind, so she would not have the awful nightmares again. He did not want to deal with them.

He was not asleep however and was not even trying to hide it on that night. He didn't expect anyone to notice.

A sudden and deep growl coming from the sea made him look around. He was able to hear and sense more than ordinary mortals, therefore he could feel that some sort of danger was coming.

“Nightmares again?” The old man named Diarmid asked as he was laying on a bed nearby. “What haunts you so?”

“I've done evil,” Sauron admitted but he did not look him in the eye and looked down instead at (Y/N)'s sleeping form.

That man seemed to be quite wise. Sauron did not mind sharing with him a little without revealing too much. It felt good to talk to someone who was not Halbrand's wife.

“Yeah, your wife told me. She tends to overshare,” the man chuckled softly but then his tone became serious. “All of us have done things that we care not to admit.”

“Not like I have. You don't know everything. She doesn't know everything,” Sauron shook his head.

“Find forgiveness,” Diarmid insisted as he leaned over to be closer to him.

“Forgiveness cannot be found. It should be earned,” Sauron pointed out.

“I think you have earned it already,” Diarmid looked down at (Y/N) and a soft smile appeared on his lips. “Despite her nature, she has never spoken of you with anything but love. You are alive because you have chosen good.”

“But what of tomorrow?” Sauron finally looked up and turned his head around to look at the old man's face.

“You have to choose it again,” Diarmid shook his head as he chuckled. “And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes a part of our nature.”

The sound of rumbling and a low wailing coming from underneath the ship interrupted them as they furrowed their brows. (Y/N) woke up as well as she sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes with her fists.

“What is it, Hal? D'ye hear that, love?” She mumbled and he looked down as his heart skipped a beat at the realisation that a sea serpent was swimming underneath the ship.

“Grab hold of something,” he warned Diarmid and (Y/N) got scared of his words, so she clinged to his arm.

But that very moment they were attacked.

The ship got wrecked in an instant and the water was getting inside through the creaks in the wood. There was chaos on board as people screamed in panic and tried to evacuate themselves but the waves kept rocking their ship, therefore they were falling down or getting carried away by the tides.

By the force of such wave, (Y/N) let go of Halbrand's arm and he could hear her calling out to him but he did not even look back. It was a perfect opportunity to get rid of her.

And there was a sting of guilt in his heart, which surprised him dearly, but he simply ignored it as he grabbed Diarmid's pendant with the noble family's heraldry and left the old man there to die.

He was free now and with a brand new plan.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #lilysfiction

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snowballseal · 2 months ago

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Guard Dog AU - Zayne

Summary: AU where you are the Foreseer, and Zayne is a human you've given your blessing to who has devoted his life to staying by your side, protecting you, and worshipping you. He would do anything for you. Anything.

Word County: 2744

Note: Sooooo, I went a bit feral with this one... Could be interpreted as very sub-like behavior for Zayne, but I feel like we all know this man just wants to worship his partner. So yah. I'll be writing similar au's for the other guys too, but this one might be my magnum opus.

Coming soon: Sylus / Xavier / Rafayel

Warning: Gets a little, spicy at the end, but mostly by implication. Reader likes to touch Zayne's face a lot. Someone calls Zayne a concubine and you get pissed.

Enjoy!

---

“Kneel.”

You stare, features a mask of icy indifference, at the human envoy wavering at the foot of your throne. They shiver in their thick coats, no material warm enough to keep out the biting cold of the Tower of Thorns. The biting cold of your glare.

Yet, still, they don’t kneel. You can see the hesitation on their faces, the pride flashing behind their irises. Humans. They always come, high and mighty, thinking themselves better than you, a demigod.

Your lips part, a scathing reproach ready on your tongue, but you don’t get the chance to correct their insolence.

“I said. Kneel.”

Zayne slams his staff into the polished, white granite. The sound of it echoes all the way to the far halls of the tower. The thinly veiled threat behind his words is unmistakable. Kneel before I make you.

The humans all crumble under the weight of his command. They drop to their knees, one by one, trembling at the pure contempt burning behind his gaze. Contempt for them and their human greed. They don’t even deserve to gaze upon the threads of your robes, let alone kneel in your presence, yet they think themselves above it? You may have mercy on their kind, but Zayne would rather cut them to their knees than allow them to show you such disrespect.

A faint smile ghosts across your lips. With the barest flick of your fingers, Zayne returns obediently to your side. He drops gracefully to one knee, head bowed, eyes locked on the unblemished edge of your robes.

It’s almost amusing, watching him turn so docile, so small for you. A man who conquers you in height and strength, who holds himself with the regal poise of royalty, who you’ve blessed with powers no man can dream of - a submissive guard dog at your feet. Ready to kill if you desire him to. Willing to die for you.

“Foreseer-”

Your smile falls away. Right, the humans. Eyes icing over once more, you turn your gaze to the envoy, regarding them with disinterest.

“What do you want, that you’ve come all this way and disturbed my peace?” Your voice rings like a delicate chime, but carries the bite of a frigid river.

The one who spoke - a man dressed in expensive looking furs, his skin covered in a layer of sweat - flinches at the sharpness of your tone. He seems to steel himself for a moment, collecting whatever pathetic bravery he has gained from his comfortable life, and looks up at you with a determined glare.

“We’ve come here for a prophecy, Foreseer,” he starts again, voice muggish and demanding, “Our kingdom has experienced prosperity in the passing years and our king would like to be certain that it will continue.”

Zayne tenses beside you, his fingers tightening around his staff. You can see him fighting the urge to put this man in his place, his jaw drawing so taut it almost looks painful. Letting out a low hum, you reach out and brush your fingers through the dark strands of hair. A silent request. Zayne wavers, his breath faltering as all his attention falls back on you.

Always on you.

Your touch is gentle but insistent, your delicate fingertips tracing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. It leaves his skin tingling, pleasant and cold. It’s an addictive feeling and he can’t help but yearn for more. Zayne nuzzles into your palm, pressing his lips to your skin in reverent gratitude when you give him exactly what he wants, your fingers brushing more firmly against his face.

An uncomfortable cough breaks the silence, “Foreseer-”

“I heard your explanation,” you interrupt him sharply, a wave of frustration washing over you. Zayne can feel it, feels his own frustration at having your attention drawn away from him. But he doesn’t dare make that known, instead watching your face attentively as you speak. “And I will remind you that my prophecies will not be bound to your expectations. They are bound to nothing but fate, so I advise you to deliberate on what you are asking of me.”

“Our King simply wants to ensure that our prosperity will continue,” the man insists, as if you’re the fool who is missing the point. He levels you with a look of disdain, his eyes not so subtly darting to the hand you now have resting in Zayne’s hair. “Though I am certain now that our Highness would not care for the words of a mere oracle who keeps a concubine as her guard.”

The air in the chamber goes deathly still once the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes narrow at the man, glacier and even, but he keeps his chin held high. The rest of the envoy all shift, sharing uneasy glances between themselves. It seems even they know that what he said was a foolish mistake.

One should not anger a god so carelessly.

Slowly, deliberately, you stand from your throne. A flick of your hand and your own scepter appears from the air, the Creatio Protocore glinting dangerously from its tangle of wood. All eyes fall on it, a mix of fear and greed, all eyes except for Zayne’s, which remain glued to you.

Every step you take, every subtle movement, is controlled, the utter definition of grace. Even the air bows to you, shivering around your form, any remaining warmth fleeing from your presence. Tendrils of ice spread along the granite, creeping up the walls, covering the windows, turning the room into a prison of your anger.

And Zayne can’t help but watch, transfixed, adoration curling in the depths of his being. Because this is you, his goddess, his queen. He may be your guardian, but he is well aware that his title is by grace alone, and not necessity. You’ve never needed him. Not like this.

“You seem unaware of whom you speak to,” you murmur, patience tested and gone, “So let me remind you.”

The man lets out a yelp as ice suddenly grips his boots. You feel a flicker of satisfaction at the panic in his eyes, his confidence disappearing like a leaf carried away by the wind. His companions scatter back, looking on in terror as the ice travels up his legs, encasing the entire lower half of his body.

“I am the Foreseer,” you say, stopping a mere foot away from him. “The demigod of the Tower of Thorns. This is my domain, my home, and you are a pest. I owe you nothing. I owe your king nothing. As far as I am concerned, he is beneath me.”

“You insolent- He is our king!” The man spirts, turning a drastic shade of red. “I demand you show him respect, you despicable wi-”

A dagger presses deftly to the man’s neck and he goes silent, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

“Be silent,” Zayne snarls, “How dare you speak to the Foreseer in such a way.”

You glance at him over the man’s shoulder, brow flicking up. Any other time, it would warm your heart to see Zayne stand up for you, and you would gladly let him cross the boundaries of his position, to act as he sees fit. To act freely. But in this moment, all you can feel is the rage boiling in the depths of your soul. It’s your turn to show them their mistakes.

So you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “I did not ask for you to intervene, my dearest.”

Zayne doesn’t miss the sharp disapproval in your voice, his breath catching somewhere in his chest. How thoughtless of him. Dagger slipping back into the sleeve of his robes, he forces himself to step back, head bowed like a wolf bearing its neck submissively.

“I apologize, my lady.”

You don’t offer your forgiveness, only giving him a stiff nod, and Zayne can feel his skin prickle with unease. Every fiber of his being aches, desperate to earn your affection, to please you, to offer an apology you deem sufficient.

If you want him to grovel, he will. If you want him to beg, he’ll do so until his voice gives out. Even if you want to punish him, he’d take it with such deep affection, because anything from you is more than he deserves.

But until you ask anything of him, all he can do is wait.

And currently, you must deal with the nuisance in front of you, even if you can feel Zayne’s laden eyes locked on you so intently.

“Now let’s talk about your king, shall we?” You muse, turning your attention back to the man. He swallows, regret showing in the way his hands tremble so viciously. “You humans have such a twisted view of power. Whether it’s money or prosperity or health. You are all subject to fate and that is why you hate my prophecy. Your king is no different, and I presume he’s looking for someone to blame when your land inevitably falls into poverty. In fact, I feel confident in saying he already sees it coming, and I would wager that he is the sole cause of it. Am I wrong?”

A low murmur spreads among the envoy. The man goes nearly purple in front of you, face tight with indignation, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, not with the looming threat of Zayne’s blade still nearby.

You don’t need him to confirm what you already know, though. And you’ve had enough of this messing around. The day has been too long, and you desire nothing more than to rest.

“Tell your king that this mere oracle wishes him well in his remaining time on the throne,” you chime and turn to walk away. Your voice carries on over the clicking of your heels, “However short that time might be.”

“You can’t-! Foreseer!”

“See them out, my dearest, and then meet me in my quarters.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Foreseer-!” The man calls again, but Zayne doesn’t even allow him another glimpse at your figure. He’s lost that honor.

“I believe it’s time for you to leave,” he snaps, and breaks the spell of your ice.

The man immediately tries to make a run for you, desperation carved into every line of his face, but Zayne catches him by the collar of his coat and throws him back towards the rest of his party. His eyes set on them, harsh and cold, a sneer pulling at his lips.

“She has dismissed you. I suggest you leave quietly before you test my patience.”

“I will not listen to the orders of a-”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a sigil carve into the air before a blinding light fills the space. The humans flee from the sudden ice clawing at their feet, voices tight with panic, boots slipping against the granite in their desperation.

A faint smile pulls at your lips as you dip into a hallway. Zayne always has been good at scaring people away.

It’s a quiet venture to your room at the top of the tower after that. The howling gale outside is all you can hear, muffled by the thick stone of the tower’s walls. It’s a somehow comforting sound, soothing some your prickled nerves.

Still, you feel tense as you settle on the edge of your bed. Dealing with the humans always does this to you. That’s why you ended up here, in the desolate, snowy mountains, far from any village or kingdom. Dealing with them is too exhausting.

How many humans have come to you, begging for an audience, only to throw themselves into a rage after you share one of your prophecies? A prophecy you can’t control, you can’t change. Yet they always blame you.

You can hardly be blamed for resenting their kind.

All of them except Zayne.

Your dearest. Your steadfast peace. The comfort of your isolation was no match when he came to your tower.

And your frustration melts like snow in the springtime when he appears at your door, wavering at threshold. Hesitation furrows his brow, his fingers twitching against the frame. Features softening, you gesture for him to enter.

“Come here, my dearest,” you murmur, tone impossibly gentle.

He hesitates for only a moment before sweeping across the room, reaching you with only a few long strides. You watch as he kneels at your feet, the thick fur of his robes gathering on the stone floor around him. And of course you notice the way his lips press together so vehemently, like he’s biting back something.

“Please speak, darling.”

Zayne’s eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath passing his lips. You always say the term with such sweetness, such tenderness. It makes him feel dizzy and near breathless, loved in a way that makes his chest ache.

“May I touch you?” He asks, voice a low rasp.

You don’t even have to think to answer, “Of course you may, my dearest.”

With all the care in the world, Zayne gathers the edge of your robes in his gloved hand, drawing the silken material to his lips. His touch is reverent, like even the clothes on your body are deserving of worship. He takes his time, showering each fiber with devout affection, eyes slowly trailing up the material to gaze at you through ebony eyelashes. And you can’t help the way your breath falters so easily for him, always taken aback by the desperation, the hunger you find there.

Something dark glints behind those mottled depths at the sound. Slowly, experimentally he presses closer. When you don’t correct him, his fingers brush questioningly against your ankle, the warmth of his skin seeping through the leather of his gloves. And you’ve never been one to deny him.

Parting your legs, you let Zayne settle between them, your knees bracketing his wide shoulders. His fingers trace adoringly up and down your leg as he nuzzles into your clothed thigh, like a pup starved for affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath, even through the thick material of your cloak, and it makes your usually sharp mind spin.

“Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness, my love,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing insistently against your inner thigh. “I will accept any punishment to atone for my actions.”

Gods, you never thought you would be so weak for one man. But how could you not be? How can you not crumble under such earnest devotion?

You’d freeze the world over if it meant having him forever at your side.

“You have quite the tactic for coaxing me to forgive you,” you breathe, reaching a hand down to trace through his hair. Zayne immediately leans into your touch, molten eyes soft with feigned innocence.

“I am simply a humble servant, unworthy of your favor, my lady,” he hums, eyelashes fluttering when your grip tightens momentarily in his hair. It’s only then a mischievous smile reveals itself on his lips. “How can I coax a goddess such as yourself to do something against your will?”

“You know full well what you’re doing, dearest.” You lean down, until your cool breath ghosts over his skin, sending a shiver through Zayne’s body. His bravado slips away, replaced by an uneven breath, his lips parting ever so slightly. “And there’s no need for it. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, and that includes my forgiveness. All you ever have to do is ask.”

“You shouldn’t offer such things so lightly, my lady,” Zayne rasps, fingers pressing tightly into the softness of your leg as he forces himself to glance away. “You underestimate how selfish my desire for you is. I would take everything if you allowed it.”

Suddenly, your touch is on his chin, drawing his face back to yours, until he can feel the brush of your lips against his, taunting and delicate.

“If you want everything,” you challenge softly, gaze unwavering, “then take it.”

Zayne inhales sharply. And then his lips are on yours, kissing you so deeply, so tenderly, like he wants to draw the very breath from your lungs, like you’re the only one who can sate his hunger burning inside of him.

And you let him. You let him take everything he desires, because he always gives you everything you could ever desire.

That is how it has always been between the two of you. And that’s how it will always be.

---

This felt pretty different from what I usually write. I was inspired by an Xavier fic I read sometime back, and I just loooove the concept of truly feral levels of loyalty. And I love the idea of reader being just a feral for him.

Can't wait to write Sylus' 😉

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #guard dog au series #sub zayne #love and deepspace zayne x reader #feeling feral

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yoitsmano · 4 months ago

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Life after Narnia

The Pevensies return from Narnia a bit discombobulated. They are adults in childish bodies. The war has ended, and they are to return home to their parents but they never forget Professor Kirke. Often visiting him during summers.

Their mother notices it first, how everyone seems to listen to Peter. Not because he is the eldest, but because they respect him. She hears them talking of 'Narnia' and deduces that something happened to them while they were away. But she can't put her finger on what. She has no idea what an 'Aslan' is, but she doesn't question them. She misses her children. They are there in their home, but they aren't. There's always a faraway look in their eye as if they are remembering.

When they eat, no one picks up a fork until Peter starts. It confuses their father. Leaving the table, Peter stands, then Ed. The boys take their sisters' hands and lead them from the table before coming to help with the cleaning. She notices the way they walk. Peter is always first, Susan next to him, then Edmund and Lucy. They walk with regality, Peter and Ed with straight backs as the girls take their arms.

They are out on the town, when their father notices it. The children stopped in front of a jewelry store; something had caught their eye. Without saying anything, Peter opens the door, and his siblings walk through before he does. It is a set of lapel pins they saw first. A Lion. He hears them all say "Aslan" before Peter pulls out his wallet. From that day on, he always notices a Lion somewhere on their person. Peter with a ring, Susan with a necklace, Ed with a pocket watch and Lucy with a bracelet. But all wear their pins when he sends them to school.

Peter often forgets that he is not to speak before his father, but one look from Lucy quells his anger. His father calls him "boy" and it takes everything in him not to correct him. He is High King.

He begins working when he turns fourteen. He tires of asking his father for things only to be dismissed of "silly childish things". All he asked for was a sword. When he saves enough money, he buys his sword, and Susan an archery set. Susan notices the tension between Peter and their father.

Edmund asked for a chess set and his mother obliged. He often plays with Lucy, resulting in a stalemate. The only person to ever have beaten him, was Susan.

Lucy is the one their parents notice the most change in. No longer is she a nine year old, but she talks as if she is older. Using words even they don't know the meaning of. She speaks of this Aslan the most. Their parents realize that "Aslan" is the name of the Lion they brandish when they hear various exclamations of "Aslan's Mane!" or "By the Lion!"

They return to their school, Whitmore Boarding School. Many people notice a change in them. Mostly their teachers. Peter commands respect, Susan is positively regal, Edmund has a silver tongue, and Lucy is more peculiar than strange.

On the first day of term, a professor addresses Peter as "Boy" amongst other professors and in front of his brother and sisters. Peter cannot help himself. He tells him to address him with respect; to call on him as "Sir", and he will receive the same respect in turn. He will never answer to "Boy" again. It takes all his restraint to not say "King".

The Professor never did ask him the question he had called on him for.

It almost infuriates their teachers, but they realize that they aren't arrogant, just way too mature for their ages.

Another problem arises when Lucy refuses to wear the school appointed skirts. She prefers pants, or dresses. Never skirts. The headmaster nearly calls their parents when her siblings storm into his office. Peter demands to know why Lucy is being punished for wearing clothes, and why he did not send for him. The headmaster explains that he is not her father and Peter rebuffs him by explaining that his father has put him in charge of his siblings if any problems arose. He reminds him of the letter sent to him explaining such matters. Edmund pulls out the handbook and explains to the headmaster that the rules do not say that girls are not allowed to wear pants. The headmaster calmly explains that the list of supplies sent to them specified black, tan or grey skirts for girls, and black, tan or grey pants for boys. Edmund then points out that the rules do not forbid girls from wearing pants or boys from wearing skirts or dresses. He then calmly suggests that he drop the matter or Lucy will spend the term walking around school without bottoms, as the rules do not forbid that either. Citing that they were told they had to purchase the uniforms, but the rules do not explicitly say they had to wear them. The headmaster does not know if he is annoyed or impressed at the loopholes Edmund finds. He drops the matter, and it is never addressed again.

All the Pevensie’s take up a sport or two. All of them take up fencing, aside from Susan. She took up archery. Peter and Lucy take up swimming. Edmund joins the debate and chess teams. And Susan and Lucy both excel in ballroom dance. Susan doesn’t even try out for the archery team. She’s just in the courtyard watching the team practice with Ed and criticizes their technique. The captain of the team overhears her and challenges her to do better. She smiles at the boy, saying she does not want to embarrass them. They laugh and vaguely insult her intelligence and Susan just looks at her younger brother and he smirks. He stands and holds out his hand, addressing her as “my Lady”. The team laughs and Susan takes the captain’s bow, gets a feel for the weight, and then requests a full quiver. Ed stands to the side and comments, “You asked for it.” She hits the bullseye on every target. The captain has the audacity to say, “lucky shot” So Susan shrugs. There’s a target that’s moving and she nocks another bow and hits the bullseye without even looking. She then hands the captain back his bow and walks away with Ed. She finds the captain’s pin on her desk the next morning.

The rumor goes around that Peter prefers to be called “Sir”. While he’s sitting in the courtyard with his siblings, a group of older boys walk up to him, one calling him “Sir Peter” in a mocking voice. Peter puts down his book and calmly answers with “yes sir.” He stands to look the boy in the eye, and as the boys spout insults. Susan can see that Peter and Ed are getting angry, so she stands between Peter and the boys, placing her hand on his chest and tells him to walk away. It isn’t until one of the boys pushes Susan away that Peter loses his temper. Edmund catches her before she hits the ground. The biggest boy grabs Peter’s collar and immediately regrets it as his shoulder promptly leaves its socket. The other boys come at him, and he side steps. All four of them are on the ground with various injuries and Peter didn’t throw a single punch. He received detention and attended with pride. No one ever touched Susan again.

The professors are surprised when the Pevensies join the student council and the school seems to run better than it has in its history. Edmund works mostly behind the scenes, but people usually come to him or Susan with their problems. They think Peter is scary, but Ed reminds them that they voted him in as the head of the council. He tells them to actually talk to him, he’s not as stoic as he seems.

The adults notice that the Pevensies do not dress as children usually do during their off hours. Instead of t-shirts and shorts and hoodies, the boys are always in slacks and a pressed shirt, sometimes with a tie. Susan enjoys sun dresses and flowy skirts and blouses. Lucy is always wearing boots and pants with a loose shirt. She is not like any of the other girls they’ve taught.

They have all grown taller in the three years they’ve attended the school after the war. With Peter now seventeen, standing at six foot three. Susan is fifteen and almost as tall as Ed at five foot eight. Edmund has always been tall and skinny for his age, but now at fourteen, he stands at five foot ten. Lucy is the one who has grown most noticeably, at thirteen she stands at five foot six.

Peter writes to his father, asking for money for when they go to the shops on the weekends. He receives a reply, saying he ought not ask for silly things. He learns that he can open an account at the local bank. He never asks his father for anything ever again. Even after he left school, anything his siblings wanted, he provided for them.

Lucy asked Peter why he refuses to write to their father. Peter looks at her and, in all seriousness, he replies “he treats me like a boy”. She then goes to Susan, and she tells her that she suspects their father is jealous that someone taught Peter and Edmund to be better men before he could.

During a weekend outing, the school chaperones notice Edmund and Lucy sitting at a table playing chess. He watches as Susan and Peter are perusing the shops. But instead of buying games and toys and candies, they are in a bookstore. Peter comes out carrying Susan’s books and they join Ed and Lucy at the table. Susan cracks open a book and Peter lights his pipe. They don’t know where he got it, but no one dares take it from him. When Lucy and Ed came to yet another stalemate, Susan put her book away and took Lucy to a dress shop. Peter put away his pipe and followed. Ed just reset the chess board. They are indeed more grown up than they seem.

A few girls pluck up the courage to ask Peter to be their date to the ball, but he tells them that he is already spoken for. No one is surprised when it is Susan on his arm at the dance. Yet, no one expects it when Lucy and Edmund join the two on the dance floor and dance the waltz as if they’ve been doing it for far longer than they’ve been alive. They are surprised, however, when Peter and Edmund extend their hands to their teachers to dance the cotillion. They are accepted.

Many professors have gotten used to Peter watching the courtyard during class. But no one could have prepared themselves for Peter suddenly standing and letting out what sounded like a growl before speeding out of the classroom. Many people knew the look in his eye and followed him to the courtyard where Lucy was. There was a new student in Lucy’s year. He hadn’t learned the rules of the school, or proper etiquette for that matter. Lucy had started to be more like Susan. Gentler. Lucy opted not to fight when she could avoid it. Sometimes she couldn’t avoid it. This boy had tried to touch her inappropriately and got punched in the stomach. But he was bigger than Lucy and had backed her against a tree. He didn’t get much further as he was pulled off her and a fist met his face. But this one was bigger. Stronger. He was then pulled by his collar and lifted against the wall by the absolute beast of a man he had never seen before. No one had seen him before. All he heard was “Peter” before he was dropped. His knees gave out and he looked up from the ground to see Peter standing before him, chest heaving. “Apologize.” Came the low growl. There was a small, slender hand on his chest. He supposed that was all that was keeping him from probably dying. He thanked every god he could think of. He was then heaved from the ground by his blazer and made to look Lucy in the face. This hand was different, but the fury was the same. “I believe there is something you need to say.” Came Edmunds voice.

“I’m sorry.” He said, terrified. Lucy just looked back and said, “I supposed you will learn to keep your hands to yourself.” Before Edmund let him go. Peter was still growling. He got off too easy in his book. None of the teachers said anything, noticing how the one hand from Susan kept Peter at bay, they kept that information in their proverbial back pockets. That boy never touched anyone again.

For fear of the beast that was the Pevensie siblings.

#narnia #pevensie siblings #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #life after narnia #narnia headcanons #narnia meta #narnia fanfiction

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luvsupa · 5 months ago

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GOODBYE, PRINCE GOJO.

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (fingering), gojo has no shame, ANGST, royalty, sad ending arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..

w.c: 4.4k

a/n:FINAL PART 🥹🥹 tysm for everyone who supported me and my story! ALSO THANK U GUYS SM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! IM BEYOND THANKFUL 💗+likes and reblogs are appreciated 🤍🤍

the next morning, unease settles over you as you touch up your makeup at your vanity desk, preparing for family breakfast. your entire life feels like it’s crumbling. you have only two days to choose your fate. strangely enough, you’ve grown comfortable around gojo again, but the fear of him tormenting you lingers.

but then there’s nanami.

he promised you a loving future. he’s charming and everything you want in a husband. yet, you can’t have both. society would never accept it; you’d be shunned if you tried.

choosing nanami means finally being freed from gojo, the twisted curse that has haunted you. but also being sent away could benefit you, offering no drama and pure freedom from him.

this is the only way you could truly be happy.

you grip your makeup brush tightly, feeling beyond conflicted. in a fit of frustration, you throw the brush and stand abruptly, nearly tipping your chair. this decision is tearing you apart. you don’t care about your appearance anymore as you exit your room and head to the breakfast room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hear distant chatter before arriving in the royal breakfast room. you greet the guards kindly as you enter, finding only your mother, gojo’s mother, and ayana seated around the long table. you expected more seats to be occupied, but many were empty.

the servants were bringing plates of fruits and vegetables to the table, along with freshly squeezed juices.

ayana notices you first, scoffing and turning away. you walk to the opposite side of ayana, catching gojo’s and your mother’s attention with your heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“oh, good morning, dear,” your mother says as you greet everyone respectfully. you sit directly in front of ayana, with your mother to your left at the table’s end.

“will ‘ruru be joining us, your majesty?” ayana asks annoyingly. the queen confirms his arrival. ayana looks at you with a hint of mischief, but you’re already weary of the torment you’ve endured.

just in time, you hear his laughter echo outside the breakfast room as he chats with the guards, thanking them for their hard work. ayana leans back in her seat, trying to see gojo through the doorway, biting her lip as she eyes him.

you feel a pang of jealousy at her reaction to him—oh.

i get why.

gojo walks in with his hair fluffy and damp, wearing a white button-up with the first few buttons undone, revealing a bit of his chest. you feel yourself start to salivate as his lotus tattoo peeks out.

holy fuck, he’s hot, you think.

“satoru, dear, must you always arrive in such untidiness?” his mother inquires with a touch of regal authority as he makes his way toward you. ayana’s jaw drops as he ignores her and takes the seat beside you.

you nearly moan out loud as you inhale his scent.

“presentable for whom?” he questions in a sassy tone.

“the royal authorities and ayana’s parents will be joining us,” the queen says as gojo rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in anyone but you.

as you wait for the remaining guests to join, gojo keeps trying to hold your hand under the table. you keep shoving him away because your mother and ayana are watching you like hawks.

gojo knows they’re watching and doesn’t care—he wants them to see. as you push his hands away for the fifth time, the guards notify everyone that the rest of the guests have arrived.

you all line up to greet each person, feeling especially awkward when greeting ayana’s parents.

eventually, you return to your seats, still sitting in front of ayana and now her parents, as well as other royal authorities along the table, and beside gojo. great.

the maids kindly serve everyone plates of their desired breakfast. the room fills with the clatter of forks and knives scraping plates, and the soft chatter of the queen and royal authorities. as you enjoy your food, you notice gojo’s plate is untouched.

“you’re not hungry? you didn’t touch your food,” you whisper, concerned about his lack of appetite. he lazily turns his head to you, leaning in.

“i want you,” he murmurs.

you hold your composure, not wanting to show a reaction as you know many eyes are on you, including ayana’s. you ignore his words and focus on eating, but you feel gojo’s gaze, intense and searching.

he won’t back down, will he?

gojo deliberately knocks his utensils under the table, the clattering noise drawing everyone’s attention. you know he has something up his sleeve.

“ahh, don’t worry about me! just clumsy,” gojo reassures everyone as they return to their conversation. he lifts the tablecloth and ducks under the table to retrieve the utensils.

just as he’s getting up from under the table, you feel his hand slide under your gown. his cold fingers trail smoothly up your calf, moving higher and higher until they reach your thighs.

your heart races. he cannot be doing this—the royal authorities are here!

your breath hitches, but you try to maintain your calm persona. his touch sends shivers through you, and the risk of being caught only heightens the tension. gojo’s fingers tease your inner thigh, his touch both infuriating and electrifying.

“please,” you whisper, almost inaudibly, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to continue.

you nearly moan out loud as he rubs you through your already wet undergarments, holding the utensils in his other hand. “here they are! silly me,” he says jokingly, eliciting laughter from the guests. with a rough pull, he moves your undergarments aside, revealing your cunt under the table.

if anyone dared to look under, you two would be sent to the guillotine.

“be a good girl and keep quiet,” he huskily whispers into your ear. you feel yourself slowly turning to mush, his voice, his fingers, his scent—

you cannot keep quiet like this! you must look presentable, especially with ayana glaring at both of you, her annoyance evident.

gojo rubs his fingers along your slit, parting your folds and applying pressure, provoking you to the brink of losing all sanity. his long, slender fingers tease your entrance, almost inserting, but not quite. you bite your lip so hard you think you could bleed, desperately trying to maintain your composure.

shaking, you hold your fork and struggle to focus on eating. gojo, meanwhile, looks unusually pleased, a smug satisfaction on his face as he watches you squirm.

“dear, have you made your decision?” your mother asks, her voice cutting through the hushed conversation at the table. you nervously glance around, internally cursing gojo for his reckless games.

“I-I haven’t,” you stammer, feeling exposed and vulnerable as gojo pinches your throbbing clit. he smirks knowingly, enjoying your struggle to maintain composure.

“you must decide soon, mustn’t you?” gojo interrupts, his tone taunting and cruel. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, realizing he intends to torment you in front of everyone.

“I- mmf”

your whole body jolts as gojo shoves two of his thick fingers straight into your sloppy pussy, the stretch burning in a way that feels strangely good. your velvety walls immediately pulse around his invading fingers, your wetness flowing down your legs. you bite your lip to stifle a cry, struggling to maintain your composure, slowly forgetting that everyone is waiting for your coherent response.

“I will,” you frantically whisper, unsure if anyone heard your hasty response or grasped its significance. as gojo curls his fingers, finding that spot that sends shivers down your spine, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker with each thrusting movement.

your clit twitches in desperate need of attention, neglected by his deliberate touch, heightening the risky thrill of the forbidden act.

“she would be happier away from all of us,” ayana says, attempting to provoke a reaction from you. but you’re too intoxicated by gojo’s fingers to fully register her words. your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as gojo inserts a third finger, stretching you to the fullest as he’s reaching the deepest parts as you feel intense waves of your orgasm approaching.

“ahh you would love the countryside wouldn’t you?” gojo asks again, smirking at how dumb you’ve already became from his fingers. to an outsider, you appear dazed and drowsy, your senses overwhelmed by gojo’s addictive touch. meanwhile, gojo sits composed and seemingly innocent, oh how this made you want to scream at him.

gojo sneakily snakes his other hand under the table. just as you were about to respond, he begins to rub circular motions on your sensitive nub. the double stimulation causes your velvety walls to rapidly tighten around his curled fingers, soaking both his fingers and your gown.

your brain feels fuzzy as your orgasm intensifies. your eyes flutter continuously, as you hear lewd squelches erupt from under the table as his thrusting movements quicken, eager to have you come for him.

your legs continue to shake uncontrollably as the climax rushes through you, your body tensing up. you collapse onto gojo’s chest, your pussy gushing out juices non-stop, creating a messy puddle under the table. as you catch your breath from the intense release, your arousal remains heightened. gojo holds you close, supporting you as you lean against him.

“oh, she might not be feeling well,” gojo remarks, feigning concern. he slides his fingers out of your cunt, and you silently whine at the sudden loss, your walls clenching around nothing.

wait.

you forgot that you were still having breakfast with all the royal statuses as you and gojo were acting like fools! someone for sure had to notice. you’re too scared to look around as you remain leaning on gojo’s chest.

“i will bring her to her room to rest; this topic can be overwhelming,” gojo says, and everyone believes his cover story as he helps you, guiding you out of the breakfast room.

instead of taking the direct route to your room, gojo leads you down a longer path, where fewer guards are present. he stops at a secluded corner, where you have more space to talk openly.

“do you have any sort of decorum? i almost lost it in front of them!” you exclaim, still feeling the pulsating aftermath of your recent actions. your jaw drops as you watch gojo suck his pruned fingers into his mouth, humming loudly as he savors the taste of your arousal. his bright blue eyes lock onto yours with intense lust.

“i said i wanted you,” he murmurs, seemingly dazed by the lingering taste in his mouth.

“i do not want you to go to the countryside. i want you with me,” he pleads, his eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

“you cannot always get what you want, big boy,” you tease, your hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into a passionate kiss. you both moan loudly as your tongues entwine, tasting your arousal on his tongue immediately.

you pull away, denying gojo’s attempt for more kisses. he looks desperate, as if he’s dying without your touch, but you reject him again.

“i have to make my choice,” you say, smoothing out his unbuttoned shirt. your hands slip inside, revealing his lotus tattoo once more. he watches you intently, recognizing your odd attraction to his ink.

“i will see you later, ’toru,” you declare, ending the encounter. with that, you take the longer route back to your room, leaving gojo flustered once again.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as gojo makes his way back to the breakfast room alone, he re-enters the bustling atmosphere where a few people notice his presence. feeling already bored, he settles back into his original seat and makes eye contact with ayana's glossy eyes.

"is my daughter alright? i didn't want her to feel overwhelmed," your mother asks gojo with concern, while ayana eavesdrops. gojo reassures her that everything is fine, but ayana grows more impatient, her leg bouncing in frustration as she knows what transpired between you two.

"all she needed was rest—"

"do you all find this quite odd?" ayana rudely and loudly interrupts, causing a stir in the conversation. her parents are taken aback by her outburst, and the room watches in confusion, waiting for her to continue with her suspicions.

"the man i am supposed to marry is all lovey-dovey for that bitch!" she exclaims, prompting your mother to scold her for her language, which earns ayana's parents a disapproving glance from yours. on the other hand, gojo glares at ayana, visibly restraining himself from reacting impulsively.

“i mean mother, father, you have not seen it all yet but all she does is manipulate my poor ‘ruru,” she continues, spinning a false narrative to fit her story.

“manipulate how?” one of the royal authorities questions, clearly curious about the drama, which could further complicate your choices. ayana shifts her attention to the royal figures, grinning mischievously.

“it’s been many times i have caught them in sexual acts together, she manipulates him into it,” she lies, faking a sniffle to garner sympathy from the authorities. “j-just the other day—oh goodness—they were going feral for each other,” she claims, drawing everyone’s attention to gojo, whose smirk infuriates his mother as he reminisces on your shared intimacy.

“and you were a witness to all of their sexual acts?” the royal authority questions again, setting his utensils down and wiping his mouth with a cotton cloth as he stares intensely at ayana.

“unfortunately, i was. i just hope her punishment increases even more—even right now! they were just engaging in sinful acts under the table! how shameful,” she continues, causing shock and discomfort throughout the room. gojo slouches back in his chair, arms crossed, and begins to laugh, confusing everyone except the royal authorities.

“ayana hara,” another royal authority calls out, catching the attention of ayana and her parents. “as of now, you have confessed to committing a taboo—” ayana’s jaw drops as the authority’s words sink in. her plan isn’t unfolding as expected.

“t-taboo? my royal authority, i-i have not!” ayana interrupts, frantically trying to deny the accusation.

"as i was saying," the royal authority declares firmly, his demeanour visibly upset at her impudent interruption. "bearing witness to sexual acts among two unmarried individuals and failing to promptly report such transgressions to the authorities is considered a grave breach of decorum and law."

ayana’s face drains of color completely. she turns to her parents for support, their eyes seeking guidance from the queen, who remains composed but stern. tears begin to trickle down ayana's cheeks as she comprehends the gravity of her confession. meanwhile, gojo surveys the room with a knowing smile, fully aware of how ayana has unwittingly sealed her fate.

"i- i do not understand, there’s certainly no law about this," ayana stammers, desperation evident in her plea as she searches for any form of support, even casting a fleeting glance towards gojo, hoping he might intervene on her behalf.

"the king and queen uphold the law of the realm without exception. as for your transgression, ayana hara, you are hereby stripped of your duchess title, and immediate banishment of the hara estate is mandated," the authorities pronounce with unwavering authority, rising from their seats in disapproval of the disruption during breakfast. the queen and your mother remain somber and silent throughout, their disappointment clear.

"w- where would i s- stay?" ayana sobs, her world collapsing before her eyes. had she only kept silent, gojo thinks.

"there exists a remote village in the southern reaches, designated for those who have fallen from noble status. there you shall reside until further decree," he continues, the other authorities respectfully concluding their business with the queen and gojo before exiting the room, leaving ayana to cry out in anguish. tears stream down her face as her mother attempts to comfort her.

the room hangs heavy with tension, your mother and the queen maintaining bowed heads. ayana's father hastily pursues the departing authorities, seeking to work out the severity of his daughter's punishment. meanwhile, gojo remains seated, quietly amused by the unfolding drama. from the moment ayana spoke out, he knew her fate was sealed.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

"she was screaming all the way to her carriage, it was hilarious," gojo recounts the scene that unfolded in your absence. ayana had finally got what she deserved, and although you wish you could have witnessed it firsthand, it was satisfying to know she was facing her karma.

gojo stands in your room, recounting the events as you sit at the end of your bed. his shirt is still unbuttoned, and you notice a few more buttons undone than before.

"where has your pretty mind wandered off to?" gojo teases, his hand reaching down to gently lift your face so you meet his blue eyes.

"i am deciding on the first choice," you say, indicating your plan to move to the countryside. you don't want to be forced into a marriage with one of his distant relatives. gojo's smile fades, and he slowly lets go of your face, taken aback by your decision.

"what? no, we must figure something out," he stammers, reality sinking in as he realizes your departure is soon. "time's running out, 'toru. i have to decide, or your father will decide for me."

"no, we will go speak to them." before you can respond, gojo grabs your arm and pulls you out of your room, determined to find his parents. this time, you don't resist his grip, knowing that no matter what gojo says, the king's decision will stand greater.

as you descend the stairs, still hand in hand with gojo, you enter the drawing room to find the king and queen, accompanied by an unfamiliar woman.

“ah, perfect timing,” the king remarks as you both halt. gojo tries to speak but is immediately cut off by his father.

“son, with ayana’s banishment, it disrupts your marriage plans,” the king states.

“yes, father, but i have decided i will marry—”

“you are going to marry ayana’s cousin, rina.”

you shift your focus to the beautiful woman standing beside the king. she’s the same height as you, with long blonde silky hair draping along her back, some pieces neatly curled. her satin blue gown with white accents is beautifully hand-made as she holds a matching fan in one hand. she’s stunning.

you let gojo’s hand go as you feel utterly defeated, his plan of trying to convince the king shattered.

“dear, we ask if you can give them privacy to speak,” the queen says, ordering you to leave. gojo once again grabs your hand.

“she hasn’t decided yet, mother. she has two more days,” gojo says through gritted teeth. the queen chuckles softly at his defensiveness.

“she no longer has a choice. after the incident at breakfast, she will be sent to the countryside permanently first thing tomorrow,” the queen declares.

you can feel his anger.

“are you serious? you allowed her until—”

“i understand,” you say, cutting off gojo as he looks at you in disbelief. he cannot believe how quickly you surrendered your future.

“very well, come now, let us give them space,” the queen says, guiding you out of the room. gojo and rina are left alone as his anger boils over.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you wander the estate, feeling under the weather, you notice nanami through a window, sitting alone in the outdoor library, writing in a journal.

you approach him, and he looks up, smiling as he gestures for you to join him.

“how have you been?” you ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“I should be asking you that. i never wanted this to happen to you,” he replies, closing his journal and placing the feathered pen neatly beside it. you nod, fidgeting with your fingers.

“i have been avoiding you for a few days. i am so ashamed of what occurred, my dear,” he apologizes, his voice rich with sincerity. you immediately forgive him, not wanting to hold a grudge.

“i am being sent to the countryside tomorrow. satoru will marry ayana's cousin,” you inform him. his brows raise in shock at the speed of the decision.

“and you wanted this?”

“no, i initially wanted to marry you, then sat—“ you stop yourself before you can fully say his name, but nanami already knows. he nods at your almost slip-up.

“i believe moving away is probably for the best, but cutting all contact with all of you is the hardest part,” you say truthfully, your heart aching at the thought of never seeing them again. nanami reaches for your hands, taking them into his larger ones.

“you will always be in contact with me. i shall visit you often and write to you,” he reassures you, his voice calm and steady, making you feel more at ease. "and who knows, perhaps one day i can truly make you my queen," he adds, making you gasp at his words, almost as if he's making a promise to you.

“you are destined to make a great king,” you compliment, rubbing circles onto his hands. his cheeks tint a slight pink beneath his glasses, and he smiles humbly, a touch of warmth in his expression.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

night approaches, and the maids and servants diligently pack your belongings. your room is filled with many helpers, working immediately on the king's orders. your mother and father are nowhere to be seen, their absence suggesting their disappointment in their daughter.

you quietly leave your room and make your way to the staircase, heading towards gojo's quarters. you walk down the long hallway and stand before his door, noting his initials engraved on the wooden surface.

you knock, and he swings the door open, not expecting you. his eyes widen as he sees you standing there, arms crossed, gazing into his puffy eyes—he has been crying.

“my room is filled with servants. may i sleep here?” you ask. he steps aside, allowing you into his spacious room.

“how was the meeting with rina?” you ask, turning to look at him as he locks the door, wanting to know if he has any interest in her.

“i want to move with you,” he says, disregarding your question. you look at him in confusion.

“you know that is impossible. are you truly willing to abandon your future as king for me?” you remind him. he nods, not caring about royal status anymore. you glare at him, wanting him to be realistic.

“please wait for me. i promise i will find you and make you the ruler of this estate,” he says as you step closer, embracing him. he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“i will delay the marriage until i can be with you. just, please, wait,” he pleads, and you chuckle softly at his desperation.

“there will never be a time when we can be together, ‘toru,” you say, shattering his dreams of your future together.

“y-yes, there will be. my father's illness will not last long, and my time as king will soon come. i will bring you back,” he says, choking on his words. he releases you from the embrace, sharing his plan.

you smile at his words, knowing that by the time gojo ascends to the throne, you both will have moved on with your separate lives. you take his hand in yours as you both climb into the large, comfortable bed, cuddling together as you stroke his fluffy hair. his continuous promises of your future together ring in your ears as he slowly drifts into slumber.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

your bags are placed across the grand entrance of gojo's estate. through the large double doors, you see three carriages ready to transport you and your belongings. you’ve barely slept, having spent the night in gojo’s tight embrace.

standing beside your parents, you see the tears welling in their eyes at the thought of their daughter departing. the king and queen arrive, with gojo trailing behind them, a look of sadness all over his face.

“it is indeed a sorrowful sight to see you leave,” the king speaks , “but we must act in the best interest of both our families and your reputation.” your gaze shifts to gojo, whose expression mirrors the anger he felt upon first seeing you enter their home.

“thank you for your hospitality,” you reply, your voice trembling as you bow respectfully to the king and queen. the king gestures for the guards to take the remaining luggage to the carriages, while both sets of parents attempt to accompany you.

“i would request that satoru escort me to my carriage,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo’s face lights up with a mix of relief and sorrow as he takes your hand, guiding you down the grand staircase. your parents and his look on in surprise at your request.

as you descend the steps, you can feel gojo’s sorrow acutely. “i love you,” you confess softly. his eyes glisten with emotion, his cheeks flushing as he averts his gaze to conceal his smile.

reaching the final step and approaching the carriage, a guard opens the door. you slip from gojo’s grasp and turn to face him.

“please wait for me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he presses his lips to yours. unperturbed by the guards or your parents watching, this kiss is laden with his anguish. he pulls away, tears brimming in his eyes, and kisses your forehead tenderly.

“stay in contact with me, my love,” he says, handing you a letter adorned with your name and a heart. you take it, fighting back tears as you strive to remain composed.

“prince gojo, we are to depart now,” the guard announces, interrupting your moment. you give gojo a final, lingering kiss before entering the carriage. as you adjust your gown in the seat, the guard shuts the door, and you are left alone, moving away.

overcome by emotion, you burst into tears as the carriage slowly begins its journey. gojo stands at the entrance, his heart breaking with each muffled sob that escapes from within. the further the carriage travels, the more his frustration grows—unable to bear the thought of being apart from his true love.

turning abruptly, gojo rushes up the stairs back into the estate, pushing past the concerned crowd as he ignores their calls. all he truly ever wanted was you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut

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