#the pure audacity of this man knows no bounds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hobisverse · 2 years ago

Text

Note: this is part 5 of a series. I have not written chapter specific reviews yet as of the time of posting this review (but this may change in the future).

(The format of this post is Bridgerton inspired -- for those that may not have read the series or watched the adaptation, it is meant to be written in a third/first person format; ton refers to the general populus.)

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is with great difficulty that I am sat here today at my writing desk attempting to review our Sovereign Ana’s latest addition to the novel series that has taken the ton by storm. Many were left wanting after the fourth chapter, waiting (im)patiently. It is this Author’s greatest honour to announce that the fifth and likely penultimate instalment in the Kanalia series.

Do be warned that there are discussions as to what occurred during the fifth chapter under the spoiler cut.

There were tears shed during the king is a fool, borne of frustration (both inherently sexual and nonsexual in nature), relief, anger, as were there sighs of disappointment, those of this Author’s irrevocable love for one Jung Hoseok that has unsurprisingly spilled over to Lord Jung in the form of lovesick sighs, and ones that accompanied so many instances of eye-rolling that this Author’s eyes nearly became stuck permanently to the top of her eye-sockets, usually due to either pure stupidity (see note on men and their testosterone-fuelled competitions) or hypocrisy (see: “King” and “societal standards”).

The few purely innocent moments came from the one and only Min Yeona, who, this Author is proud to say, remains fat, proud, and gummy, the latter of which can be attributed to her father. However, it should be noted that this Author found herself wondering if the babe could serve as a placating gesture ahead of the horrid, infuriating actions that were to come. If the answer to this is yes, Sovereign Ana, this Author must wonder just how (rightfully, in her opinion) incensed you think your readers must be in order to offer up a mere babe as distraction for the ton to fuss over, albeit a very effective one.

One of this Author’s favourite writing mechanisms was to include the weather as a metaphor for the increasing tension between the three main characters. If this was indeed intentional, then this Author can only smile and shake her head fondly before nodding in acquiescence, for we are all fools that have played into our Sovereign’s hands.

There were many a times that this Author had to pause, for the audacity of man knows no bounds (see: King). Notwithstanding how tempting or seemingly well-intentioned the King may seem at times, this Author is firmly standing by her decision to condemn him without possibility of wooing back into his good graces.

In spite of t This Author’s unquestionable love for one Lord Jung and the uncanny ability to somersault him out of wrongdoings wherever possible, she regrettably must deem him is once again in effect, as all wrongs from the previous instalment of Kanalia have been erased in part due to mention of his dreamy dark eyes and swoon-inducing low register when incensed. And several mentions of a particular slim, lithe body. And hands. And a certain feather-ruffling risque scene that will not be further impressed upon. For this Author’s well-being.

This Author would also like to let out an unladylike whoop coaxing the Queen on in her quest to achieve her happy ending as well as a similarly eyebrow-raising decision to support the loud swearing that was done as a result of too many frustrations piling up.

...this Author would also like to begrudgingly apologise to Lord Jung’s scantily clad drinking partner who put it into no uncertain terms that she was certainly wooed by said Lord’s mysterious, brooding, grumpy demeanour that we have all come to love, but would like to ask if said drinking partner has no better things to do than attempt to unsuccessfully seduce a man who is clearly otherwise emotionally preoccupied and if she has anything else in her closet other than “clothes” that better resemble a single strand of thread. This Author does apologise (halfheartedly) on the attacking of her own sex, but surely the generously-breasted gentle lady has working eyes and ears that would alert her to the emotionally unavailable Lord Jung?

Yours Truly,

Lady Bells

kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter five: the king is a fool

banner by the amazing, incredible @kth1

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.

⚜️word count: 10K

⚜️notes: the queen is hot and bothered, literally & figuratively. the king puts several Ls in the disappointed but not surprised category, everyone gets drunk at some point. lord min is a terrible archer, yeona remains round and winning. the queen could melt steel with her sexual frustration, lord jung is not faring much better but at least he knows what he's doing, slightly awkward marital smut. the queen fights with everyone.

i could never have finished this chapter without these amazing authors & minds @miscelunaaa and @vyduan and one person who would probably level us all with her first fic if she decided to write one, @hobi-gif. please let me re-iterate how much it means to me that any one of you reads my stories, and it would make me endlessly happy to talk to you about it. you can talk to me here 💕

previous chapter

Hyeri is curious.

She examines the stains at the hem of your walking dress with narrowed eyes, pausing her thorough study of the red-brown splotches only to steal the occasional furtive glance your way.

Her lips purse as she shakes dirt loose from the grooves of your walking boots. She watches the sediment fall to the floor with a raised brow, uncharacteristically quiet as she reaches for the broom to sweep the mess away.

But her bewilderment only grows as she draws closer.

The older woman’s posture stiffens as she regards you, lips pulling into a thin line as she takes in the state of your wind-swept hair and grimy fingernails. You must reek of the ill temper you’ve brought back from your ride, the smell of it as pungent as the sweat and horse on your clothes. She tests your temperament in much the same way as she tests your bathwater, query as feather-light as the fingertip she skims along the surface.

“Are you… well, this evening, Your Grace?”

“As well as I ever am,” you answer succinctly, accepting her hand and stepping carefully into the tub. Woven into the spaces between each of your clipped words is rebuke; a silent warning to proceed no further. Your handmaid, who is by no means a meek woman, has the good sense to heed it.

So Hyeri says nothing as she takes a comb to the tangles in your hair, working them apart with peach oil. She says nothing as she scrubs away the dirt embedded beneath your normally pristine fingernails. And she says nothing still when you wince at the ache in your thighs as she helps you from the bath.

When the heavy chamber door finally pulls behind her, shutting the stares and the questions safely out, you make your way to bed. You extinguish the lamp on your nightstand and welcome the shadows.

And then you succumb to the darkness that envelops you, inside and out.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Steamy heat has put an end to weeks of pleasant fall weather.

You’ve sought refuge this afternoon beneath a tree at the edge of the castle’s sprawling open field. The oak, though grand, offers scant protection from the midday sun. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck and disappears into the linen at your décolletage.

“Between you and me, I’ve always found hunting to be an appalling sport.”

Boram shakes her head at the scene in the distance. The King and his men claim to be training for an upcoming hunt, but by all appearances, there is little training taking place. Instead they look to be bandying about like mischievous little boys, scrambling for position in front of the straw targets with bows in hand.

“I find it to be an exercise in vanity more than ability. Little more than male preening disguised as sport.” Boram dabs at her brow with a handkerchief and sighs. “What do you think?”

You don’t answer Boram’s question on account of your distraction. Try as you might to keep your eyes on the dashing elder Lord Kim or the charming young Lord Jeon or – heaven forbid, your husband – they wander to Lord Jung instead, over and over and over again. Your gaze pulled to his strong face as though drawn by a magnet.

He turns his head and his dark eyes find yours across the distance.

The butterflies you’ve felt in his presence before are not to blame for the unsettled feeling that comes over you now. The very sight of the man makes your stomach turn over, as though you can taste the vivid recollection of the last time you saw him.

The memory of that wonderful ride – and of the horrible way it ended – are still bitter on your tongue. Like picking the most beautiful fruit in the orchard only to find it sour and decaying inside.

“Your Grace?”

You blink.

“I say this to you as my friend and not my Queen,” Boram says, pausing to clear her throat. “You don’t seem yourself today. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Nothing at all,” you lie quickly, smoothing down the damp curls springing up around your ears. “I’m fine, truly. Though I suppose it is possible the heat is making me cross. I can barely think in such conditions.”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Boram laments, reaching over to give Yeona’s belly a tickle. The baby curls into herself like a starfish, giggling as she rolls around on the blanket. “Yoongi says it will take a rain to break it. But until then, we must all suffer.”

“And suffer we shall,” you echo under your breath, watching Lord Jung load his bow in the distance. He sets his lithe body in a precise stance then draws his arm back and releases his arrow. It flies in a tight arc and lands just below the bullseye on the target. The men erupt into raucous cheers. You resist the urge to scowl.

“As for the hunting,” you add, “I think men are just as guilty of the frivolity they so often accuse women of. Not that any one of them is likely to admit it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Boram laughs. “Men are not known to be skilled in the art of introspection.”

“They certainly are not.”

And why should they be? Men never have to stop and consider the consequences of their actions. They alone decide the rules of engagement. They are free to be as vain and as frivolous and as thoughtless as their hearts desire. Horrid, infuriating creatures.

Lord Min steps up to the target. His stance is uneven and his arrow is wild the very second he lets it loose. It flies yards from the target and lands off in the grass. The men jeer loudly.

“Poor Yoongi,” Boram winces as she watches the men tease him. “He’s never been much of an archer, I’m afraid.” But the good-natured Lord Min appears to take it all in stride, shrugging off their taunts as he trades his bow for a fresh tankard of ale.

The King takes his turn next – the lines of his body thicker and stronger than Lord Jung’s, but no less elegant. The men circle around your husband as he draws the bow back with one strong arm. He takes careful aim with his arrow and deftly plants it just above the target’s bullseye. The sound of the men’s whooping echoes across the field.

And so it goes for a while, with the men taking turns loosing their arrows to varying degrees of success.

Lords Park and Jeon both prove to be adequate archers, hitting the targets more often than not. The elder and younger Lord Kims are less skilled and spend the lion’s share of their time plucking arrows from the grass behind the targets. Lord Min quickly gives up on the endeavor entirely, opting instead to sit with his ale and heckle the others.

But the two best archers on the field refuse to be distracted by drink.

The King and Lord Jung set an arduous pace, loading and firing their arrows in quick succession. Even at a distance, even with your meager knowledge of archery, you can discern that both men are quite evenly matched in terms of skill. They load, fire, and strike their respective targets with precision.

On and on they persist – despite the brutal heat, despite the fact that the other men have begun to tire. One by one the other Guardsmen surrender, abandoning their bows and collapsing onto the grass to watch.

“These two seem quite serious, don’t they?” Boram notes.

They certainly do. The air of silly fun that’s sat over the group for much of the afternoon is all but gone now and what began as a diversion for all of the men has clearly become a challenge between just two. The other Guardsmen seem to sense the shift in atmosphere as well, their faces earnest as they watch the King and Lord Jung compete.

Physically, the two men are quite different. The King’s muscular arms and chest serve him well as he steadies his bow and fires. In contrast, Lord Jung’s body is lithe, sleek. He moves with an agility the King cannot. But both wear matching expressions of determination. And though this competition might have been amiable at the start, it’s now evident that neither man is willing to leave the field without a clear victor.

Lord Min calls out to them both – voice too distant for you to make out his words – and the men appear to nod in agreement. They both step back from the targets, increasing the difficulty of each shot. But it takes only a few more arrows to prove that the added distance is no hindrance to either man. Both set their stances again, both aim and fire, and both land their arrows with ease.

The Guardsmen sitting nearby fall silent, and in the absence of their racket the King’s answering growl of frustration echoes over the entire field.

“Oh my,” Boram whispers. “I’d heard there was some tension between them, and it would certainly appear to be so.”

It certainly would. Right now, the King and Lord Jung look more like rivals seeking to settle a score than lifelong friends.

The King’s agitation is apparent in every move he makes, in the way he jerks the arrows out of the straw targets and stalks back into position. Lord Jung’s agitation is equally apparent. He accepts a skin of water from Lord Min without so much as a thanks and hands it back once he’s drained it.

It’s a strange thing to see the handsome Guardsman challenge his King with the very same passion in which he’d defended him just days prior.

“Has the King spoken to you about it?”

“No,” you admit stiffly, “He has not. Are you determined to keep me in the dark, as well?”

“Heavens, no,” Boram protests, pulling Yeona into her lap. She hands the baby a rice cake and Yeona sets to gumming at it right away. “I would never want you to think that I’m speaking ill of the King, is all.”

“I could never think that of you.”

There is hesitation in Boram’s face when she flicks her dark eyes back to meet yours.

“Well, the details I have are few,” she starts slowly. “But what I know is that the King expressed a wish to see Lord Jung married again and Lord Jung, from my understanding was – ” she pauses, carefully considering her next words,“ – less than amenable to the idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Yoongi says they fought over the matter. Quite thoroughly, from what I’ve been told.”

“I see,” you say, taking great care to keep your expression impassive. “And did Lord Min explain why Lord Jung is so opposed to marriage? He’s still a young man. I can certainly see why the King would think it a logical proposition.”

Boram’s lips purse as she thinks.

“I do not know that I can say. Though I consider Lord Jung to be a dear friend, he can be terribly private about some matters.”

You cut your eyes towards the field to search for the man in question.

Does she really know Lord Jung? Do you? Today there is no sign of the man who’d leveled you with a smile in the Great Hall, no trace of the man who’d teased you about riding clothes before helping you onto your mount. The man you see now wears a strained expression as he watches the King take aim, his energy volatile like a pot ready to boil over.

Perhaps you’d been foolish to think him so different from the King. Perhaps they are as evenly matched in the art of duplicity as they are the skill of archery.

“So what will come of it?” you ask after a while. “Will the King – make him marry?”

“I don’t know,” Boram admits. “And therein, I suppose, is where much of the tension lies. Lord Jung has already taken a bride once in service to the Kingdom. I can’t imagine he’d be inclined to do it again.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the field then, an outburst that has Lords Park and Jeon on their feet. The younger men rush to meet the King and Lord Jung mid-field, nodding as the King speaks. Both take off running at once.

“I’ve no clue what that is all about, but I do wish they’d end this already,” Boram grumbles, watching the young men disappear behind the tree line as they go off in search of whatever it is the King’s asked for. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in this heat.”

“Nor I,” you agree, watching the King and Lord Jung speak to one another. Both men look sober, the lines of their faces hard. “But it seems we’ll all have to endure it for just a bit longer in order to humor this contest of male prides.”

Some arduous minutes later, Lords Park and Jeon make their return to the field.

The dust kicked up by the horses they ride precedes them, the ground parched from weeks without rain. Both men arrive in a cloud of grime – Lord Jeon on the King’s mount and Lord Park on Lord Jung’s– and dismount without delay, handing the reins over to their elders.

So this is how they will decide the victor.

“Well, let’s hope they keep their wits about them,” Boram sighs. “Lest they both break their legs in the heat of competition.”

“Yes, let’s,” you mutter.

The King is first to take his turn, of course.

He mounts Jeonsa with ease despite the horse’s grand height and takes his time warming the warhorse up. The King runs his mount in circles around the target until he’s satisfied with his plan and the timing of his shot. He steadies himself against the jostling with his strong thighs, pulling his bow back to fire. The arrow hits the target just below the bullseye.

The men, who’ve spent hours now drinking in the hot sun, erupt into a chorus of ruffian cheers.

Lord Jung wastes no time taking to his own mount. His horse is leaner and quicker than Jeonsa, and it’s clear that he commands complete control of the animal’s every step. Both horse and rider move as one as he urges his mount faster, straightening his back to fire. The arrow hits the target just above the bullseye.

The men are getting rowdy now, egging on both competitors as they circle on their horses. Their shouting is louder, more animated, and you would not at all be surprised if there were a few healthy wagers underway. You wonder which of the men they’ve bet on.

You wonder which of the men you would bet on before pushing the thought away and reminding yourself that you’re not particularly fond of either at this moment.

The King circles Jeonsa around the target once again, taking his time about it. He seems to consider every circumstance surrounding his next shot – the angle, the speed, the light wind that blows east. After a great deal of circling and thought, he rears back to release his arrow.

It lands on the target, just above the arrow planted by Lord Jung.

The shouting from the men becomes a low roar.

Lord Jung pointedly ignores the commotion, rolling his shoulders as he stares down the target, brow knit in concentration. Soon he’s urging his mount to move, the pair fluid as they circle the target.

Just like the King, Lord Jung circles longer for this shot than he had for the first. Twice he draws back as though ready to fire and thinks better of it. But after painstaking deliberation, he finds his stride. He pulls his arm back and sets his stance. Then he releases his arrow.

And it misses the target entirely.

It flies off the end of Lord Jung’s bow with astonishing speed, gliding just to the right of the straw and landing off in the distance. The men are on their feet now, jumping and yelling and slapping one another on their backs. Lord Jung shakes his head in disgust.

“Well,” Boram reaches for her basket, loading her things into it with haste. “That’s settled now. I certainly hope at least one of them feels better. Let’s move into more liveable conditions, shall we?”

You open your mouth to agree just as you spot the King barreling towards you atop Jeonsa, leaving the men celebrating his victory on the field behind.

You nearly stumble over the hem of your dress in your rush to rise to your feet. Your husband is grinning widely when he reaches you, stopping his mount long enough to extend one large hand. You place your hand in his and he dips his head to plant a kiss on your fingers.

“Well done, You Grace,” you demur, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “A hard-fought victory.”

“Thank you. I’m quite pleased with the outcome.”

The King acknowledges Boram with a smile before turning his mount to ride back to his men. You put a hand to your brow to shade your eyes and watch as they cheer for him – reward him with the adulation he’s clearly worked so hard for.

But a thought occurs to you as you examine the scene in the distance.

There is no sign of Lord Jung.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King comes to you that night – hair damp and smelling of fine soap, breath tinged faintly with ale.

He coaxes you to your knees just as he’s done so many times before. His fingers slide against your most secret place, slippery just as they’ve been so many times before. And then he’s pushing inside you, hard and hot just as he’s been so many times before.

But there is something different about him tonight.

Your husband’s touch is rougher than you remember. His grip on your waist is harder than you remember, large hands moving from your waist to your backside to dig his blunt fingertips into the soft flesh. His thrusts are more forceful than you remember, more erratic, powerful enough to push you up the length of the bed.

You fist your hands into the bedding and push back, refusing to allow your knees to buckle under the pressure. That earns you a low groan from the King – a sound that strikes a strange chord inside you; sends a shiver racing up your spine. You press your hot face into the sheets.

Perhaps Namjoon is still feeling the effects of an arduous afternoon in the hot sun. Perhaps he’s still in his cups after a night of drinking with his men.

Or perhaps it is all just a trick of your mind.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Morning brings no improvement in your mood. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You wake snappish, jarred from a fitful sleep by the sudden appearance of light in your chamber. Shafts of it – hot and harsh – stream through your windows, spill across your duvet, assault your eyes. You bury your face in the pillow in a futile attempt to avoid it, sweat beading at the nape of your neck until the uncomfortable warmth forces you to quit the bed.

But the rude manner of your awakening is only one reason for your irritation.

The other is the lingering tenderness between your legs, a dull ache you can feel with each careful step. The sensation is more an annoyance than a true discomfort, but it vexes you nonetheless. Each muted throb serves as an unwelcome reminder of your visit from the King, of the peculiar way he’d bedded you last night.

Your face flames as you think of it.

What is he about, your husband? And what of the juvenile, chest-thumping nonsense you’d witnessed yesterday afternoon? The combative way he’d gone up against Lord Jung and the grand show he’d made of coming to you to fête his victory. Boorish, absurd behavior – all of it.

You go about your morning ablutions in silence, unwilling to meet Hyeri’s eyes for even one moment. You are in no mood to withstand her meddling today – well-intentioned or otherwise – and so it is for the best that she helps you wash and dress in relative silence.

If there is something the older woman means to say, she has the good sense to swallow it, murmuring only a quiet warning about the heat as you slip out the chamber door.

And heavens, how you are wholly unprepared for the heat.

It, too, has worsened overnight – the air around you nearly thick enough to drink. You hurry towards the aviary, spurred on by the promise of the shade beneath its trees, but by the time you are finally seated at your desk you are soggy and sticky all over. Slick with sweat between your thighs and beneath your arms and breasts.

Perhaps you should have heeded Hyeri’s warning.

The thought rankles you as you open your book and attempt to pick up your story where you’d left it. You start and stop the same sentence over and over again, the heat so tyrannical that you can barely breathe, much less think. Even the King’s prized birds refuse to fly under such conditions – opting instead to perch on the highest branches, wings lifted to cool themselves with the occasional passing breeze.

The stillness unnerves you; makes your aggravation mount with each unbearable minute that ticks by and before long, you throw your novel down in frustration. This will not do.

Loathe as you are to spend another day confined to the castle’s thick stone walls, there is no avoiding it. You’ll not survive another half hour in this heat, which means you’ll certainly not be able to pass an entire afternoon in it. You huff as you throw your things back into your basket and stalk off towards the aviary’s entrance.

But perhaps you should have been more mindful.

Immersed as you are in this black mood, you don’t notice the brambles growing at the edge of the heavy gate. You brush past them in a hurry, only to be wrenched back by the thorns that take hold of your skirt. You tug at the material with your free hand, successful only at tearing a hole in the fine linen but unsuccessful at pulling yourself free. You drop your basket in the struggle and the contents spill out, an apple rolling to a stop at your feet.

It is then that you do something very unladylike, something that would have earned you an exaggerated gasp from your sister or a sharp rebuke from your mother.

You swear. Loudly.

You summon all of your frustration and scream what is perhaps the most undignified word you know at the very top of your lungs, the vulgarity echoing in the aviary’s eerie quiet. And though it’s done nothing to solve your current predicament, there’s something truly satisfying about speaking the nasty word out loud, about shouting it into existence.

That is, until someone coughs.

“I take it you need some help, Your Grace?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you whirl in the direction of the voice.

Lord Min approaches slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your sorry state. You’ve no idea where he came from, but at this very moment you’ve never been so horrified and grateful to see him, all at the very same time.

“Yes, I – ” you start and stop, flustered by both your behavior. “ – I’m stuck. The brambles are caught in my skirt and – ”

“Oh yes, I see,” he says, leaning down to examine the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He tugs at the bottom of your skirt and you wince at the sound of the fabric tearing. “You’ve got yourself quite tangled up here, haven’t you?”

“I believe I have,” you admit with embarrassment. Lord Min gets down on his knees and begins plucking thorns and burs out of the fabric, brow knit with concentration as he attempts to extricate what remains of your fine linen dress.

You clear your throat.

“My Lord, I hope I didn’t – Well, rather, I hope you were not offended by that word you heard me say. It’s not a word that I usually use, not really. Well, not ever. What I mean to say is that I know of coarse language, of course, but I’m certainly not in the habit of using it.”

“What word?” Lord Min interrupts your rambling from his perch at your feet, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Did you say something, Your Grace? I must not have heard it.”

The corners of his mouth curve into a cautious smile, which you return with a timid one of your own. His teasing is welcome. It brings badly-needed levity to your embarrassing situation and lightens the heaviness of this atrocious day.

“What’s this, Min?”

At once, the gesture dies on your lips.

Lord Jung comes into view by way of the same path taken by Lord Min, though his sudden appearance does not bring you the same kind of relief. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The very moment he’s standing before you, critical gaze moving from you to Lord Min and back, you feel absolutely lightheaded with anxiety. You wonder what he must make of the scene he’s stumbled upon: Lord Min on his knees, at your feet, hands fisted in your skirts.

“You Grace.” The lines of Lord Jung’s beautiful face are hard as he acknowledges you, his voice stiff and formal in a way that makes it foreign to your ears. He bows to you much in the same way, body rigid as he performs the required motion.

“My Lord,” you return with similar formality.

“Her Grace is stuck,” Lord Min explains, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the provocative position the two of you have been discovered in. “I’m trying to free her without ripping this linen to shreds. Could use your help, seeing as you’re standing there. Push that branch back for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Oh, but now you feel a migraine coming on. Lord Jung squeezes into the space beside you, leaning over Lord Min to push the brambles back so that the older man may have both hands free to work. At this point, both men are too close, but he is far too close. Heat blazes a path up your neck and into your cheeks.

Inhale, you twit. Exhale.

“Last few, Your Grace,” Lord Min announces, voice muffled by your skirts. “I think the linen will need a bit of mending, but not much more.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Lord Jung’s gaze connects with yours. His dark eyes, normally so warm and expressive, are flat as he regards you. In fact, everything about the handsome guardsman’s countenance is uncharacteristically severe today, from the deep knit of his brows to the way his bow-shaped mouth presses into a firm line. He looks away from you without so much as a smile.

Is he – is he angry with you?

Your mouth nearly falls open at the realization. What right would Lord Jung have to be angry with you? It was he who’d laid the trap with the promise of a perfect afternoon spent riding and he who’d sprung the trap by defending your husband’s dishonesty.

If either one of you had a just claim to animosity, it would most certainly be you.

The awful word you’d uttered at the very start of this ridiculous dilemma springs right to the tip of your tongue. If only you had the courage to spit it at him. Horrid, infuriating man.

“There now,” Lord Min announces. “I think we’ve got it. Hang on to that bramble for a bit longer while Her Grace steps away from the gate.”

You start forward slowly, steps mercifully unencumbered by gnarled plants. Though Lord Min has done his best to salvage the fine linen, your skirt is now covered in a fine dusting of grime, torn in places from your knees to your ankles. Hyeri will have a fit when she sees you, but you couldn’t care less about the state of your ruined dress. The only thing that matters now is quitting this place at once.

“Thank you so much, Lord Min,” you breathe, dropping to your knees to gather your scattered things. The elder guardsman helps you retrieve the wayward charcoals and papers, which you hurriedly stuff back into your basket. “I’ll be off now and won’t take up any more of your afternoon.”

With that, you rush to your feet and turn on your heels to leave. You try not to think about the scene you’re leaving behind – Lord Min puzzled by your sudden exit, Lord Jung affronted by the fact that you’d pointedly ignored him in your thanks.

You make haste with those first few steps towards freedom, only to be pulled back once again. Only this time, not by jagged brambles.

“Your Grace.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of the gruff voice behind you. You turn around slowly, acutely aware of both men watching your every move. When Lord Jung steps forward, your eyes fall to the gently worn leather binding in his hands.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You take great care to school your features, though the panic rising inside of you threatens to spill out. Your most private thoughts are inside that book. Fragments of poems and unsent letters and one horribly incriminating sketch of a man who is most certainly not your husband.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you mumble, resisting the urge to run to him and snatch the book right out of his grip. You can feel him watching your every move as you approach to accept it with unsteady hands.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A storm is coming. You can feel it.

Never mind that the sun is shining – or that the sky outside is a perfect, crystalline blue. The clouds dotted across the horizon hang in the air, unmoving. There is no wind to rustle the leaves in the trees. The calm is ominous. Foreboding.

“... think none of the people in this kingdom have ever seen this kind of display before. I imagine they’ll be quite awed by it. I’ve only ever seen it once myself, in a village far North. A strange lot, those people are. After all these years, they still dabble in the dark arts.”

At the other end of the long dining table before you sits the King. He’s been prattling on like this for the better part of ten minutes now; far too absorbed in his grand talk of the festival to note that his audience of one has yet to engage with a word that’s come out of his mouth.

“It’s strange though, to think of celebrating a Fall Festival in this heat. Though I generally prefer the heat to the cold, these conditions are quite beyond the pale. We’ll have to have just as much water on hand as we do ale.”

You make a sound under your breath that you hope will pass for discourse.

“Of course, there’s still much to be done. But the stewards assure me that everything will be ready in time. And there will be much to celebrate this year as I’m told the crops in all our holdings are faring well. The wheat has – ”

The King’s jabbering comes to an abrupt stop.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he notes, in a sudden fit of awareness. He regards you over the rim of his wine glass, curious. “Is the jajangmyeon not to your liking?”

“It is to my liking,” you insist, pushing the wheat noodles around your bowl in a half-hearted attempt to appease him. “As always. I suppose I’m just not very hungry tonight, is all.”

“I find that surprising,” the King says, as though you’d asked his opinion on the matter. “I understand you were brave enough to venture out into that awful heat this afternoon. I would have thought you’d be famished tonight.”

Every muscle in your body tenses at once.

“Oh?”

“I spoke with Hyeri this afternoon,” the King elaborates, oblivious to his misstep. “She said she’d warned you against leaving the castle under those conditions, but you’d off and done it anyway.” He chuckles under his breath as he recounts the conversation. “I think you surprise her at times with how strong-willed you can be.”

Beneath the table, your hands ball into fists.

The thought of Hyeri disclosing the details of your day to the King, no matter how trivial, incenses you. You imagine them together over tea, sharing a laugh as they trade observations about your shortcomings. Or worse – meeting with one another somber-faced as they commiserate over your inability to produce a child.

That thought is the most insidious. Your nails dig savagely into your palms.

“Do you and Hyeri discuss my comings and goings often, then, Your Grace?”

Your husband shrugs, helping himself to another generous serving of noodles.

“Often enough, I suppose.”

“So am I then to assume that when you ask me about my day, you are merely standing on ceremony? Surely you must be, given that you’ve already had a full report from my handmaid.”

The King sets down his chopsticks to look at you, perplexed by the contentious turn in this conversation. But he’s careful to school his features as he considers what to say next.

“Of course not,” he starts slowly. “I ask after you because I genuinely want to know about your day. It’s a consideration that I would think customary between husbands and wives.”

Is he – is he toying with you?

What on earth would His Grace know about what’s customary between husbands and wives? He is the one who’s made this marriage into a farce with his deceit and adultery. He is the one who’s held you at arm’s length from the very start in order to protect the woman he truly loves. Your husband’s hubris is as astonishing as it is aggravating. Horrid, infuriating man.

“Well I, for one, would genuinely like to know about your day, Your Grace,” you say, unable to keep venom from seeping into your every word. “So tell me then – as is customary between husband and wives – how did you pass the afternoon?”

The color drains from the King’s face.

You should shut your mouth now and say no more, you know it – but by now you are far too consumed with anger to give much thought to the consequences of sharp words. You push the bowl of jajangmyeon away and get to your feet.

“Nothing of interest to share, then?” You raise a brow as you stare down at your husband, unwilling to look away for even one moment. “What a pity. Perhaps tomorrow.”

The King’s eyes narrow but his mouth stays shut. He says nothing in his own defense, says nothing to attempt to placate you.

And he says nothing as you turn your back on him and walk out the door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first crack of thunder sounds just as you’re readying for bed. You stand at your window and watch the storm roll in.

Black clouds build off in the distance, discernible only by the occasional flare of lightning. Each bright flash is followed by an earth-shaking rumble that satisfies you somehow, as though you’ve manifested this squall with your thoughts. The violent wind and rain it carries with it a mirror of the tempest inside you.

“Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”

Hyeri’s voice comes from behind, timid and small. She’s been tiptoeing around your chamber all evening, clearly disquieted by the cold reception you’d given her upon your return. The well-bred, well-behaved woman inside you whispers that you should turn to her, do something to reassure her, but you refuse.

Fortified by your anger, you keep your back to Hyeri and go on staring at the storm clouds.

“No,” you say firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

“But I – ” Hyeri starts, stops, and then sighs. “Very well. As you wish, Your Grace.”

And you do wish. You wish for Hyeri to leave you – not just tonight, but every night. And you wish not just for Hyeri to leave you – but all of them. You’ve grown quite tired of humiliating yourself in this kingdom; of placing your trust in people who’ve made you into a fool time and time again.

There is rustling as the older woman hurriedly gathers her things, then a brief pause before she slips out the door. The heavy thud that finally announces her departure brings you some small measure of peace, but it does not last.

Your bath-damp body is warm when you slip beneath the heavy duvet. Too warm. Though the storm raging nearby brings with it the promise of cool rain, it is still too far off to displace the humid air in your chamber. You toss and turn beneath the heavy covers for a while, your thin nightgown soaked through with sweat by the time you finally kick your bedding away.

So you lie there in the dark, close to feverish with heat and unable to settle down. Every time you close your eyes, you’re taunted by images – of Hyeri, of the King, of the child that never comes. What you would give to be able to quiet your mind, to have some respite from the reality of your circumstances.

But there will be no respite, not any time soon. The thunder outside is close enough now to shake the castle’s heavy walls with each new blast that rips through the sky. You feel the tremors right down to your bones, the sensation causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin.

In spite of the heat, you shiver.

There’s a prickling that starts at your scalp and goes right down to your toes. It makes you itch with the desire to drag your nails down your arms and legs. It makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, tight and tighter still until your agitation is gone. Perhaps that is the solution.

You cup your breasts through the damp, thin material of your nightgown. They feel sensitive, tender — and the very moment you brush your fingertips over your nipples they come to life, pebbling against the gauzy fabric.

You close your eyes and try to imagine that your hands are not your own. That the fingers that close around the aching buds, teasing and testing, are not your fingers. That the dormant pleasure the pressure rouses inside you has instead been roused by someone else.

In your mind, the hand that steals between your thighs is not your own. It’s larger than yours, the fingers longer and rougher than yours. You imagine that hand parting your legs, coarse fingertips slippery against the wetness gathered at your entrance. And you imagine it caressing you there, expertly stroking the spot that makes the air leave your lungs.

What would it be like to be touched like this? To have a lover’s lips at your neck and his hand between your thighs? To have the weight of him pressing down on you, the scent of him enveloping you – to feel his warm breath fan over your skin?

These thoughts only serve to make the ache between your legs more pronounced. But the more you attend to it, the sharper it becomes. Pleasure blooms with each inexpert pass of your fingers over that place, but in its wake your desperation grows, too.

You whine under your breath as you touch yourself harder, faster – a heaviness building at your core that makes you feel full, overripe. There is relief on the other side of whatever this is, and you know it.

But can you reach it?

Your imaginary lover would know how to help you reach it. He would take you in his arms and in his mouth and leave no inch of your body untouched. He would fuse himself to you, skin-to-skin, and show you how to beckon your pleasure at will, help you realize its full potential.

In your mind’s eye you can see him – legs and arms strong and lean, golden skin illuminated by firelight. The mouth he sets to your aching nipples would be soft, lips pretty and bow-shaped. And his hair would be dark and his eyes would be a rich chocolate and his face would be –

A clap of thunder explodes in the sky.

Your eyes fly open – unseeing – as you gasp from the shock of it. It leaves you trembling, body slick with sweat and limbs tingling from the sudden fear. You lie there in the dark, panting as you wait for your heart to stop racing.

And just like that, the pleasure you’ve been chasing is gone. Quick as a rabbit.

Outside your window the heavens weep, the rain beating against the ground like a hail of arrows.

The dry earth enjoying a relief that always seems to elude you.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“Magnificent, Your Grace.”

Hyeri passes a hand over the embellishments in your bodice, chest puffed with pride as she examines the dressmaker’s handiwork. Though her brown eyes have long gone dull and gray with age, they shine as she steps back to take you in from head to toe. “Just magnificent.”

It is magnificent – far and away the finest garment you have ever worn.

Rich, plum-colored velvet embellished with gilt thread, the plunging neckline and bliaut sleeves lined with pressed bezants. You hardly recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror, the one with her hair swept off her neck in an intricate braided bun, eyes darkened with kohl, ears and neck adorned with sparkling gold. Whoever that woman is, she is far bolder and far more sophisticated than you.

“There’s nothing like his work,” Hyeri muses, running a thumb over pattern pressed into the hem of one sleeve. “Frail as he is, it takes him ages to complete a dress. But he’s worth it. Worth the wait and worth every single won.”

You study the intertwining gold patterns stitched into the bustline. No doubt the King has paid dearly for this dress and all its fine accoutrements. The thought of your husband spending an obscene amount of money on it nearly puts a smile on your face.

“You look remarkable in this dress,” Hyeri remarks quietly, wrinkled mouth lifting at the corners with a cautious smile. “Well, of course, you look remarkable everyday, but especially tonight.”

Her expression is bittersweet as she reaches for you, gently tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose of your braid behind your ear. This newfound emotional distance has been hard on her, you know. It’s been hard on you, too. And though holding her at arm’s length has proven difficult at times, it feels somehow vital to your self-preservation.

“Don’t forget your shawl,” Hyeri says softly. “It’s gotten quite cold out there.”

It certainly has. The storm that ripped through the kingdom just days ago took the insufferable heat with it, leaving behind a pure, crystalline cold. The night sky is clear enough to see for miles.

So you accept the shawl from Hyeri with a quiet thanks, avoiding her eyes as you slip out the chamber door.

By the time you make your way to the great hall, the revelry is already well underway. You can hear it pulsing through the slats of the heavy wooden doors, the music and commotion contained within powerful enough to stir the ground beneath your feet. The footmen posted at either side of the entrance bow deeply as you approach, then move to pull the doors open.

You raise a hand to still them, wanting a moment to steel yourself before entering the fray.

“I’m not – If you’ll just give me – ”

One of the guards steps forward to speak when your words falter.

“No need to explain, Your Grace,” he says earnestly. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You take as deep a breath as your elaborate gown will allow. “Truly.”

You already know what awaits on the other side of those doors. Artificial smiles that hide whispers about your empty womb, honeyed and hollow words of praise from your exasperating husband. Pity too, perhaps, from those connected enough to be privy to the true state of your marriage.

But you’ll bear it. You must. Because it’s what’s expected of you and because your political survival in this kingdom depends on it.

“Well then,” you say, smoothing down your velvet skirt with trembling hands. "I believe I've had time to collect myself."

The very same footman that had spoken to you just moments earlier gives you a sympathetic smile as he places one hand on the door’s ornate wrought iron handle. He pauses to look at you before signaling to the other footman, one brow raised as if to say are you sure?

You swallow thickly and nod your affirmation.

Slowly, the heavy doors are pulled open, creaking as they part. You step forward to enter, feeling a rush of cool air at your heels. The brief hush that falls over the great hall makes your heartbeat quicken.

But then the King stands.

He rises to his feet and bows to you, and every person inside the great hall follows suit. You return his bow and then straighten, holding your head up high as you set off to fulfill your duty.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King makes no mention of the tense meal you’d shared just a few nights prior. Not that you’d expected him to. If anything, your husband’s predilection for avoidance has been one of his most consistent traits. And if he’s harbored any ill feelings about the curt words you’d spoken that night, surely they’ve been washed away in a torrent of ale.

He’s already a bit drunk when you take your seat beside him – pleasantly so, if his ruddy cheeks and leisurely smile are any indication. His dark eyes are glassy as they sweep over your form, taking in the grandeur of your dress. But they linger at your bust for just a heartbeat too long and it takes all the self-control you can muster to not kick him beneath the table.

“You look fetching in that dress,” the King notes, reaching for his tankard. “The color suits you.”

“Oh? Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve dozens more just like it on the way.”

You startle a laugh from the King just as he’s taken a drink and he splutters on it, coughing until tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Very good of you to warn me before the bill comes due,” he wheezes.

“But of course, Your Grace.” You infuse your words with cloying, contrived sweetness, putting a hand over your heart for emphasis. “It is the very least I could do.”

The King chuckles as you turn to look out over the room.

The tables below the raised platform on which you both dine are teeming with people, their long wooden benches bowing beneath the substantial weight. They are littered with food and drink, tankards and platters and goblets scattered for as far as the eye can see.

You sip your wine and watch partygoers reach over one another for noodles and steal dumplings from their neighbors’ plates.

It takes a minute for you to spot Boram. She and Lord Min are tucked into a corner, cozy and close. Your dear friend is the very picture of contentment; resplendent in a royal blue gown, glowing in the torchlight when her husband presses a kiss to her temple. Your heart aches as you watch them. What you would give to have what they have – to know the fulfillment they’ve found in one another.

In fact, the Mins make for such a compelling tableau that you nearly overlook the one behind it. Lord Jung is dressed in an arresting black and gold tunic, dark hair styled away from his face and a tankard of ale in his hand. And he is not alone.

Seated close to him – so very close – is a woman. A beautiful woman, as best you can tell from a distance. Her dark red dress in perfect contrast to her shiny fall of dark hair, the garment cut to accentuate what can only be described as a generous bust. She leans in to Lord Jung as she says something, décolletage on full display when she throws her head back to laugh.

Your grip on the wine goblet in your hand tightens.

The woman is brazen, that much you can tell. Her proximity to the Guardsman is far too close to be proper, her scandalous – if stunning – manner of dress far too self-indulgent to be benign. And though you cannot make out clearly how she’s been received by Lord Jung, the very fact that he has not sent her away is telling. Is this the woman he intends to marry, then? Or just a diversion for the night?

You drain the wine that remains in your goblet and signal for the serving girl to bring you more.

Moments later Lord Jung, too, flags down a passing servant to fill his tankard. For a man who once took great pride in extolling his discipline with spirits, he seems to be exercising very little of it tonight. In fact, he looks to be indulging as much or perhaps even more than his fellow Guardsmen. Perhaps that is why he does not he does not move to distance himself when the alluring woman at his side places a hand on his arm.

You swallow another large sip of wine.

“It’s nearly time for the evening’s entertainment,” the King says. “I think you’ll be impressed by what’s in store.”

You cannot tear your gaze from the scene before you. You cannot stop staring at the comely woman at Lord Jung’s side – stiffening in your seat when she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say absentmindedly, lifting your wine glass to your lips once again.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

When you were a girl, barely ten years old, your father had come home from a long journey with a fantastic tale.

He’d spoken of fire – in shades of red and green and gold – launched into the sky, embers raining down on the earth in a magnificent display. You’d been spellbound by the picture he’d painted for you, wishing desperately to see this phenomenon for yourself.

And now you have.

The King’s promise of a surprise well exceeds your expectations. Each new flare sent up over the open field is met with a hush from the crowd, followed by loud cheers and applause as it explodes into color.

“I brought them back from a village up North,” the King explains, preening at the crowd’s reception. “And though I wanted to show them right away, I made myself wait until the most advantageous time. What do you make of them?”

“They’re splendid,” you answer earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

The King hides a satisfied smile behind the rim of his tankard. By this point in the evening, he’s crossed the line from agreeably drunk to good and well soused – as have many of the others in attendance. You, too, are feeling the effects of your wine, experiencing that strange weightlessness that can only be brought on by drink.

And you are glad for the distraction of the fire display.

It’s helped pull your focus away from Lord Jung and that woman. Though each time there is a brief break in the presentation, you cannot help but search the throng for any sign of them. You wonder where they are right now. What they might be doing. But then you drown the bitter thoughts with the wine in your goblet.

The night wears on and the crowd around you becomes rowdier, louder – the ale barrels slowly disappearing one by one. Even the King is looking a bit worse for the wear. He’s sagged into the chair beside you, heavy-lidded as he watches the bright detonations that light up the sky.

You are not faring much better. A dull throb taps at your temples, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much wine, and you suspect that it will be far more pronounced come morning. You ought to retire for the evening now, while you still have some of your wits about you.

You open your mouth to say as much to the King at the very same time you catch sight of a slim man ambling away from the crowd. Though he’s hundreds of yards away and though there’s little light beyond the torches and the occasional embers in the sky, you recognize him right away.

You would recognize him anywhere.

Impulsively, you get to your feet and utter a rushed goodbye to the King. He bids you farewell with a sluggish smile and not a moment later he’s gone back to gazing skyward, mesmerized by the lights. Just ahead, Lord Jung slinks off into the shadows, moving with an unsteady gait.

And you follow him. To what end you cannot be sure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Clearly, you’d given no real thought to this course of action.

If you had, you’d not be scurrying across damp grass right now, struggling to keep your balance in your beautiful velvet dress. The heavy fabric weighs you down with each step, making each footfall precarious. In fact, if you’d stopped for even a moment to consider the implications of stealing away to pursue a man who is not your husband, you’d have ended this lunacy long before it even began.

But here you are in the dark, following Lord Jung. With only the moon to light your way.

The slender man moves quickly, unburdened by the trappings of women’s formalwear and assisted by his long legs. You lift the hem of your dress off the ground and do your best to keep up on the shadowy path. Just a short distance ahead you can make out the lines of a thatched roof and wooden fence.

It’s the stables, you realize, and the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s come here to meet that woman. The two of them must have agreed to leave the festival and come here for a secret tryst. Were you a woman in your right mind, that realization would stop you cold and send you running straight back to the castle. But you are absolutely not in your right mind. You are dangerous tonight; fearless from the wine flowing freely in your veins.

As such, the very thought of Lord Jung arranging for a passionate liaison with this woman has the opposite effect. It infuriates you. And you’ll not be satisfied until you can see the proof for yourself and then end this fixation once and for all.

Overhead, a flare of light illuminates the darkness just as you’re nearing the horse stalls. It’s followed by the sound of sizzling gunpowder, and it draws your attention skyward. You look up just in time to see wisps of fire tumble back to the earth. But when you fix your gaze forward again, Lord Jung is gone.

What on earth?

You’ve barely begun to consider your next move before your body is moving of its own volition, jerked right off the walking path by a hand that wraps around your arm like a band of steel. Lord Jung drags you behind the horse stall with one hand and claps the other over your mouth to smother the sound of hysteria that threatens to escape.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

He hisses the words, one by one, his low vibrato thrumming with barely-contained anger. You’ve yet to recover from the shock of being accosted in the dark and so you stare at him, bewildered and mute.

He releases you, dropping the hand covering your mouth to walk to the edge of the stables. You watch as he ducks his head around the corner to check the walking path. Once he’s satisfied you’ve not been followed, he rounds on you.

“Anyone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” you scowl, rubbing your forearm where his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “They’re all far too drunk to see anything, I assure you.”

He shoves a hand through his dark hair and exhales deeply.

“What are you about tonight, Your Grace?”

A fair question, and one you ought to have considered before dashing off into the night. But you’d been so hellbent on hunting the man down that you’d given no real thought to what you’d do if you actually caught him. You hesitate for so long that he grows impatient, closing in on you.

“What,” he repeats slowly, “Are you about?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Well, you ought to know,” he growls. “You ought to know damned well exactly what you’re about before you go off following men into the dark.”

But it’s not as though you’ve followed just any man into the dark, is it? You’d followed him. The admonishment riles you, bringing your temper back to a full boil. You straighten your spine and sear him with a withering look.

“That woman tonight. At the feast. She wants you to bed her.”

Lord Jung’s dark eyes go wide just before they narrow into slits. He stalks towards you slowly, forcing you to retreat until your back is flush against the stable’s rough wooden slats. Slivers of moonlight play off his angular face, making the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced. He’s beautiful – even like this – even when he’s so irate that he can barely keep still.

“I know what she wants,” he says, voice sinking to an octave that raises goosebumps on your arms. “What I do not know is what you want. What I do not know is why you are here.”

“So you intend to bed her,” you challenge.

Something dangerous flickers in his expression as he regards you, gaze potent enough to almost make you regret your sudden bout of daring. Almost.

“No.”

And so there is no tryst. No agreement between secret lovers. At once, adrenaline floods your veins, bringing with it a clarity that you’ve not had since you began drinking tonight. You’ve been reckless – so, so reckless – and now there is no undoing what you’ve done.

“I’ve answered your question and now you will answer mine,” Lord Jung warns, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Want?”

All the fire has left you now. Whatever force possessed you to confront this man in this way has disappeared, leaving behind only a sickly taste in your mouth. You’ll feel more than just the wine in the morning, you know it.

“Brave enough to follow me into the dark, brave enough to demand I explain my plans for bedsport,” he continues, brows knit as he stares you down. “But somehow, not brave enough to tell me what you’re doing here in the first place.”

“I – ”

“Tell me then,” he goads, growing more agitated by the minute. “Open your mouth and speak. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You ought to have slapped him across the face. At the very least, you would have earned the look he’s giving you right now – this frozen mask of incredulity that’s come over his face. He backs away from you slowly, as though poised to run. But he doesn’t.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad,” you say evenly, with a poise you’d not thought yourself capable of. “You asked me what I want and I’ve told you. I want you to kiss me.”

Another burst of color explodes in the sky. A loud cheer goes up over the field nearby, a disquieting reminder of the hundreds of people milling about just a short walk away. The commotion seems to sober him.

“Go home, Your Grace.” His words are strangled, forced. “You are playing with fire. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

You stiffen, lifting your nose in the air.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you lie.

Your insistence only serves to make him even more agitated. He begins to pace back and forth, glowering at you as he moves.

“Go back to your castle, Your Grace. Go back to your fine life and your fine things and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I will not,” you refuse, defiant.

He delivers his last blow, the fatal one, in a voice so graveled it sounds as though the words are spoken by a stranger. And perhaps he is a stranger, this man you’ve been so infatuated with. Perhaps he’s nothing like what you’ve made him in your own mind.

“Go back to your husband,” he growls. “Your King.”

Your humiliation is both instant and acute. You burn with it, the embarrassment so intense that it nearly makes you see stars. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, feel your heart pounding in your throat when you speak.

“The King doesn’t want me,” you say coldly. “Though I am certain you already know that.”

“The King is a fool!” he explodes, surging forward and slamming his hands down on either side of you. The outburst is violent enough to shake the horse stall and the venom in his countenance nearly makes you come out of your skin. His mouth hovers terrifyingly close to yours, so close that you can nearly taste the ale on his breath. You stop breathing altogether.

Then he wrenches himself away from you, staggering backwards as though he’s been burned.

“The King is a fool,” he repeats. “And so am I.”

i’d love to hear from you about this chapter! you can talk to me here. otherwise, i hope you enjoyed it and only the final chapter is left 💕

#series #jhs #angst #smut

706 notes · View notes

moonshine-nightlight · 3 years ago

Text

Don’t Shoot the Messenger: Part Two

Despite how it might seem, being a messenger for the feared sea-demon pirate, Admiral Satrasi, infamous far and wide for having an entire fleet of raiding vessels who answer to him alone, is a relatively safe job. After all, no one knowingly crosses the Admiral. However, it seems the most recent captain looking to join his fleet hasn’t gotten that bulletin yet.

Fantasy, pirates, male monster x female reader, male demon, M/F, Part 2 of 9

Warnings: violence (choking), misogynistic insults

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Don’t Shoot the Messenger Chapter 2

[Part One] Part Two [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine - NSFW]

You’re not sure what makes Critchley get out of your face or stop squeezing your throat—although he certainly doesn’t let go. Maybe it’s the look of rage in your eyes. Most likely it's the silence that spreads out through the room in a rippling wave as everyone notices what he’s done. You’re certain that silence being broken by the drawing and cocking of flintlocks helps.

As your left hand reaches down to your holster, murmurs and growls fill the room from your newly attentive audience. You cannot believe the nerve of him, the audacity. He’s doing this in one of the places you feel safest. You don’t feel afraid though, that sense of sanctuary isn’t shattered.

You’re just furious.

“Oi!” one man shouts from nearby. “That’s a Marlin you’re knocking about.”

“Haven’t you any sense?” another admonishes.

“Too blitzed to know any better,” someone says to their neighbor, a snicker to her voice that says she knows what’s to come of it.

“His funeral.” That one is bored, with a hint of teeth. “Wonder if we can scavenge the leftovers.”

“They letting the brainless in these days?” someone wonders.

“Admiral ain’t gonna like this.”

And that’s why you still feel safe. He might think he’s in charge, but you know you are.

Captain Critchley’s drawn his own gun, as have the majority of his crew, on pure instinct. Instead of fear though, he’s mostly pissed off as he looks around the room at the crowd of disapproving onlookers. “Can’t a man deal with pompous jabbermouths without it becoming every lookie-loos business?”

You take the opportunity to bring his attention back where it belongs. In one smooth motion that doesn’t betray your anger or the fact that you still can barely breathe, you bring your blade down to rest against his arm. The sensation is light, but the edge is sharp enough to slice through the fabric of his jacket and his shirt. He turns his head at the sensation, his movement and the jostling of his arm against the blade is enough to score a line in his skin.

Your voice is raspy and harsh from his treatment of your throat, but your job relies on your words so you make yourself clearly heard. “Let. Me. Go.”

His lip curls in a sneer before he realizes exactly what blade you’ve got in hand and he goes pale.

“Don’t you know all Marlins got demon blades?” an onlooker jeers. “What a scut.”

Demon blades are the sharpest blades to exist. A curved blade of typically dark metal, they are fashioned from demon bone or claw and then honed and fixed to a hilt. Sharp as anything and well, say somethin’ about the person who’s got one. But more than that, demon blades fall into two main types beyond material—those made by a demon, possibly from their own body, and bound up with demon blood magic and those made by a human or lesser demon without anything special.The latter are infinitely rarer and infinitely more valuable as they are bonded to their wielder and will be dull in another’s hand. It is only if the bond person is killed that it can be rebound to a new owner.

While demons are slightly more common in remote areas and of course deeper in the Unbroken Sea, they are far outnumbered by humans. Between the rarity of the material and the rarity of the knowledge needed to make true demon blades, they’re highly prized. Yours was given to you by Satrasi himself, of himself—one of his teeth—and it is bound to you.

And a demon blade can slice through anything—anything—with practically no effort. You can see that thought flash through Critchley’s mind. He lets you go the moment he realizes you can cut through his arm like you would water.

You drop, even though you hadn’t technically been held off your feet, down to one knee, bracing yourself with your free hand. You gulp in air even as you keep your blade pointed at Critchley, who has lost any self-preservation he had gained with your knife to his skin and smirks down at you.

The room is no longer silent, filled with nervous murmurs and tension, no one quite sure what’s going to happen next. No one has ever had the audacity or stupidity to attack a personal messenger of the Admiral on hallowed ground such as the Saucy Siren before.

You aren’t confused about what’s going to happen next. You’re going to finish delivering your message tonight and then deliver your reply in the morning to Satrasi, as is your mission. This scum will get what’s coming to him then, as it should be.

With your breathing returning to normal, you make to get up, only for a mottled brown hand to enter your field of vision. You grasp the hand offered by the first mate of the Hungry Serpent and allow them to help you back up to your feet.

“What’re ye doing?” Takis asks, staring incredulously at Critchley, their hair adding to the effect as multiple snakes join them in staring. Any other of the crew from the Hungry Serpent that had been mixing with the Lux Lady’s crew have distanced themselves, as if worried the consequences of Critchley’s stupidity might be contagious.

“What’s it to you?” Critchley snaps, obviously disliking being questioned and on edge from the number of guns out and looks pointed his way.

“This is Admiral territory and you just attacked a Marlin,” Takis replies, folding their arms. “Can’t do that here.”

“I can do what I fuckin’ please,” Critchley replies tetchily.

“No,” Takis leans forward, their expression hard. “Ye can’t. Ye ain’t one of us, yer a guest. An’ we’re willing to excuse all manner of fumblin’ on account of not knowin’ the codes ‘round here. This ain’t one of ‘em. Don’t care where ye are or where yer from—ye don’t assault a personal messenger of the Admiral.”

“The cracknob girlie is fine,” Critchley rolls his eyes and takes a swing from his bottle. “If she were doin’ her job right and taking my message down as she should, I wouldn’t have had to get so close and personal-like.”

“You haven’t given a proper answer yet,” you take this moment to speak, resisting the urge to rub your throat and grimacing inwardly at how rough it still sounds. “When do you wanna meet with the Admiral?”

Critchley swallows another mouthful of gin, confident now that you’ll not be retaliating. The lack of menace on your part has clearly reinforced his own belief in either your incompetence or weakness. “And you’re still not listening—I’ll see him tomorrow. If you don’t wanna bring him my answer, that’s your problem—not mine.”

You narrow your eyes at his careless grin and look over his crew. Those closest to him and therefore you, all seem to be of the same mind, sniggering and drinking as they look dismissively away from you or glare resentfully at the still on edge other pirates around them, for all most of them are back to their own games given Takis is speaking with you and with you back on your feet.

Some of the others though, ones that are still clearly from the Lux Lady but standing further back, are much warier, drunk as they are, and look twitchy, seemingly trying to decide if Critchley is the bigger threat or the specter of the Admiral. They seem to think that for the moment, it's better to stay by their captain’s side, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they spooked away just as easily.

Never a good sign, when half a captain’s crew doesn’t trust him. You look over Critchley’s coat and spy the cut-off bits that signify he might once have been a navy man, an officer. Those always make the worst sort of pirate captain, as they feel eternally cheated and eternally entitled–resentful. They only manage to stay captain if they’ve got muscle to back them up, which he seems to have. They’re always outnumbered in the end.

“Alright,” you say evenly—noticing his surprise at your even keeled answer. “If that’s what your answer is, so be it. Let me know if you change your mind.” You don’t bother telling him how to contact you if he does, because well, you know his type.

He scowls. “I won’t.”

You stare at him for an extra moment before you shrug. You’ve delivered your message and you’d prefer to have a real answer from him, but you don’t mind—he can dig himself as deep as he’d like. Your gaze flickers over his crew and you can see they’re unsettled by your lack of reaction too.

Good.

You deliberately turn your back on Captain Critchley. You no longer have any designs on staying here for the evening. Instead, you’ll be retiring to your cabin early. You only make it a few steps before Takis reaches for your elbow. They say your name even as you deftly move away from their hand. You glance at them from the corner of your eye, silently telling them to speak their part.

“What are ye gonna do?”

You raise your brows and frown. “Do? I’m not going to do anything.”

“He attacked you,” Takis says, as if worried you might have missed that. “Here. Ye gotta do something.”

“No,” you reply, shaking your head only to wince at the strain it puts on your neck which is aching something fierce and feels almost as if there’s something stuck in it though you know there isn’t. “I don’t. It’s not my code he broke.” You don’t grin, don’t let anything show on your face, but you have no doubt justice will be served on your behalf. Satisfaction is what flows through your veins when you say, “Admiral Satrasi will be most displeased.”

You brush off Takis’ offer to walk you out, refusing to say anything more on the matter when you don’t have to. You make your own way back to the carrier, turning your collar up and moving with the right amount of speed and confidence that no one can get a good look at your neck. You didn’t particularly care who might see or what they might think, you simply didn’t want to have to speak or explain. You are patient when it comes to Critchley’s punishment in the morning, not now when you just want to retire for the evening with a soothing tonic.

Your cabin on the carrier is near the stern, only two floors below deck. You have a private lavatory and study as well as a bed chamber. None of them are furnished extravagantly—and you have seen some of the fanciest ship personal chambers through your duties—but it’s still the finest set of rooms you ever had, ever dreamed of, mostly likely because you were homeless a great of your life. It’s taken time for you to earn these rooms and longer to furnish them as you see fit, but they have long been home to you.

You feel a weight drop from your shoulders as you cross the threshold and deadbolt the door shut. You carefully lift your satchel over your head, not wanting to jostle your neck any more than you need to. Meticulously you remove your various other accessories, unbutton your overcoat, your waistcoat, and remove your pockets. Clad in your white undershirt and billowy trousers, you head over to your desk. Next to it, you open up your chest of precious medical balms and remedies.

By now your throat is hurting something fierce and breathing is harder than makes you comfortable—not to mention the throbbing headache you have. Thanking the creator of this carrier for their foresight, you pump water into a basin, drinking some delicately. Soaking some rags in the cold water to drape around your throat, you find that does help soothe it, although you’re careful not to wrap them tightly.

You’re used to patching yourself up when you can, normally forgetting you have access to a physician these days. Even tonight, you know you could go to one, but you’re sure you can manage on your own. Besides, you don’t want to explain the situation and potentially have to talk someone out of telling Satrasi right now—especially when it hurts to speak.

According to your medical book—the most precious book you own—you carefully measure out doses to help with your throat. Only after taking those do you reluctantly duck down to the closest kitchen storeroom for some ice.

You were able to move swiftly enough, you’re back,curled up under the warm blanket you bought after a particularly successful negotiation with Commander Hart soon enough. You prop yourself up in bed to sleep, glad that since the carrier is anchored up tonight, so you can use the bed frame for the stability rather than your hammock. Weariness rushes over you in lazy waves and you succumb easily, content in the knowledge that all would be set right in the morning.

It’s deeply comforting to know with iron confidence that someone has your back, is on your side, and perhaps that's why your dreams are full of memories of your first meeting with Satrasi—the first time you ever felt that way.

[Part Three]

256 notes · View notes

suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked.

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness.

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!”

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked.

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own.

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face.

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife.

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner.

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to.

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain.

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you.

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked,

“You ever visited the countryside princess?”

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body.

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else.

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight.

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be.

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place.

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled.

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed.

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours.

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface.

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone.

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees.

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead.

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were.

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head.

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds.

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside.

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

“... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess.

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state-

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined.

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?”

How could he have not smiled right back at you.

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs.

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life.

He had thrown his head back and laughed.

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks.

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled.

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in.

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head.

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else.

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited- for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most.

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery.

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last.

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged.

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating-

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state-

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.”

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside.

—

How do you kill a god?

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven.

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god?

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips,

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you.

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne.

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here.

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth.

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through.

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this.

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body,

“I need to pee.”

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business.

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days,

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact.

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip.

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him.

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this?

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff.

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him.

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow.

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights.

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life.

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m tired of being a god.”

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.”

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste.

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth.

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply.

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier.

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest.

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection.

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine.

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked.

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why.

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.”

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him.

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.”

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind.

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun.

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now.

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair.

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk smut #jjk tw #jjk angst #jjk hcs #toji angst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fluff #gojo smut #sukuna smut #hades persephone retelling

7K notes · View notes

tomhollandfics · 3 years ago

Text

Mob!Tom

* = smut

* Red Light - @spidey-sophie

every night there are a variety of customers but this night is different - as you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights - who is this man and why do you feel this way? it’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only

* Settle - @duskholland

distance may make the heart grow fonder, but you’d spend every day by tom’s side if you could

* Meet Your Match - @duskholland

it’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of tom’s rival mob...

* Uncharted Territory - @duskholland

you've been with men before, but you've never been with tom - he's intent to prove that he can show you satisfaction beyond your wildest dreams

As You Are - @duskholland

who could've known showing up to work late one night would put you in touch with a mysterious stranger, capable of turning your life upside down

* Getting His Fill - @duskholland

you've been a brat all day, and tom's had enough

Die For You - @duskholland

tom's got a secret: you want to know what it is - he's desperate to keep you in the dark - unfortunately for him, secrets have the habit of coming to light eventually, sometimes in the worst way possible

* Stuck With(out) You - @duskholland

when the law finally catches up to london's most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war

* Got Your Six (Series) - @dlwritings

y/n and her sister are best friends, they never get into any trouble, and they like the simple lives they lead - trouble starts to follow their every step, but with the help of mob boss tom and his consigliere harrison, they just might make it out alive

* I Think He Knows - @sleepyhollands

tom takes y/n to an important event, and she wonders if her boyfriend knows what he does to her

* Match Made In Hell (Series) - @spidernerdsblog

you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you - everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal - you hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge - will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

* Intrinsic - @hollandsmushroom

you are attending a meeting of the families with tom when his rival has the audacity to insinuate something he shouldn’t, challenging the peace agreements that had just been established, tom has to claim what is his

* Tease - @tom-holland-parker

after a bad mistake of wanting to make tom jealous you have to deal with the consequences of being a tease

What Baby? - @tom-holland-parker

dating the leader of the toughest gang in london was bound to gain you enemies - so after one particular encounter y/n in sent to the hospital to recover but they didn’t expect this news

* Choices - @arvinsescape

you become the product of someone’s torture and now you have to decide what you want

* Fiancé - @jxlystan

y/n and tom are coming home from a gala and y/n notices that tom was tense from all the work and meetings from the past few days and decides that she would help him relax

Someday Is Today (Series) - @asonofpeter

for the past five years, you and tom were comfortable raising your son together - everything was fine, but as your lives take a turn; nothing seems to be the same

Strictly Business (Series) - @asonofpeter

working as the assistant of london’s most feared mob boss for a few years, your relationship was purely professional but after he caught himself eavesdropping on your conversation, he couldn’t help but offer a proposal…it was strictly business; or so you thought

* I Can't Help Falling In Love With You - @tommydarlings

the leader of the london mafia is the devil in person and you would do everything you can to end him, wouldn't you?

Mr & Mrs Holland - @jeyramarie

most powerful couple in the country but it’s not tom you should be fearing

Run To Me (Series) - @hollandroos

nothing ever goes as planned; you’d heard that saying a hundred and one times before but it wasn’t until you were packing your bags to leave that it really hit you- nothing ever went as planned

Liar - @huntergatherercreator

you find out what tom does for a living

The Takedown (Series) - @huntergatherercreator

nyc has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire - you’re going undercover to stop him

* Rest For The Wicked - @hazofmyheart

when you go to help relieve some of your boyfriend's stress prior to a meeting with a rival mobster who can't seem to keep his eyes to himself. tom takes the opportunity to remind you who you belong to

* Bad Reputation (Series) - @hazofmyheart

unwillingly caught up in the life of a well known london mob, y/n finds love in unlikely places but is the dangerous lifestyle too much for her to handle?

Remember That Night - @thegirlintheswivelchair

months after breaking up, tom reaches out and unearths the memories you had worked so hard to let go of

* Shoot Me Down (Series) - @binkysh0e

viola folliero was no doubt the brains, and the beauty, behind the folliero mob, placing them as one of the most powerful families in europe alongside the hollands - so when they both get ambushed within the space of a week, an alliance is formed to protect their names

Failed Surprises - @tomthesoftie

y/n worrying about tom, sobbing, holding each other, soft comforting with tom

Iced Latte (Series) - @blissfulparker

tom is one of the most infamous mob owners of london when one day he spots a woman in a coffee shop and falls in love with her but finds something darker

* Happiness Is A Butterfly (Series) - @blissfulparker

you and tom spend your whole lives looking for your soulmates - how could you not see that you two were right under each other’s noses both coming from a mob family?

Always But Not Forever - @spideymarvelws

during the interrogation of a mole, tom learns something

* Forget Me Not (Series) - @angelic-holland

y/n leads a rather simple life running her floral shop in a small storefront in east london - tom leads a dangerous life; filled with guns, drugs, fighting, and intimidation

Risk - @mendespideys

tom takes it upon himself to find a way to keep you safe from the dangers that come with the mob life

* Power Trip (Series) - @sinfulserpents

he installs fear in everyone he comes across, leaves people quite literally shaking in their boots, but not her - you never imagined that you would get caught up in the life of one of the biggest mobs, nor the life of tom holland, the biggest mob boss in new york but now that you were, he wasn’t going to let you go that easy

Positive - @stylesharrys

he’s the big bad mob boss with a reputation to uphold…but now he also has a family to consider

* Confess To Me - @little-diable

she gets offered one last chance to make it back into the holy realm, one last chance to prove her worth - turning a sinner pure can’t be that difficult, can it?

* 2 Hearts, 22 Calibers (Series) - @heyhihellowhatsup0

despite discovering the new owner of the club you work at may have his own secrets hidden, the temptation to get closer to him outweighs your trepidation..

In The End - @parkersbliss

you either both make it out alive or don’t

Take You Home - @hoefortomhoelland

tom goes clubbing and bumps into you, but he can’t stay away from you - at the end of the night, you walk away but he’s desperate to find you again

* I Only Feel You (Series) - @stuckonspidey

a world in which soulmates feel their other half, physically and emotionally - y/n has given up on finding her soulmate, given up on trying to decipher the sensations he feels and the lifestyle he leads–prompting her to give up on him - her other half, she’d come to find, is the leader of the holland crime family, and in no means the easiest person to love

Playing God - @bi-writes

“what’s mine is yours"

* Predictable - @bi-writes

can you ever keep a secret from a man such as tom holland?

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom holland #mob #mob!tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #mob!tom

1K notes · View notes

daimyosprincess · 2 years ago

Text

ELIZA OH MY GOD oh my god oH mY gOd THIS WAS JUST 🥵🤌🤭😈😩😭🤯🫨🫠 just an absolute scrumptious spicy delicious treat!!!!! Everything I hoped for and more!!!!! Like bro I thought I knew how to brat and rile up my mans but HOLY SHIT did you blow it out of the water with this one bestie, had me taking notes over here 😮‍💨 Then both mean Boba AND the tender check in at the end??? He just cares so much for his little princess (and he's such a show off sksksksksk) 😭

Another amazing Boba fic for the books y'all from one of the best Boba authors out there 🤩😍 TL;DR Y'ALL COME GET Y'ALL BOBA JUICE

I will attempt to do not a complete play by play below the cut but no promises

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter?

OK SO we obviously know that Daddy Daimyo Boba is my one true love but Mean Bounty Hunter Boba??? .........🥴🥴🥴 it's that danger and competence kink for meeeeee

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. ... “What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Such a good lines 🤌 love me some Boba thighs hehehe

Boba was on you in an instant, and you couldn’t help but loose a shriek as you were pulled into his lap before you could blink. Damn, that was quick. Quicker than when you had anticipated. And you’d thought you’d given him a wide enough berth. He curled his arms around you, pinning you to his armored chest, and pressed his face against your neck, breath hot and scalding - voice low like the thunder of an oncoming storm. “Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

OH MY GOD SNATCH ME UP DADDY press me tight up against your big broad chest and taunt me in that rumbley voice of yours UUUNNGGGFGFF

“Please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything, I’d let you do anything,” you pressed against him with a whine, meeting his waiting gaze as you made your plea. “Fuck me bound. Even if I said no. Make me yours, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I just want…wanna…” ... “I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

There are no words, just purely manifesting this for me from Boba the predator/prey kink jumped out of my body reading this

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

Another banger of a line!!!!

“Careful, little mouse,” his voice was cutting, sinfully victorious, as he knelt beside you. Kriffing hell, you knew he was smirking underneath that damn helmet. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. You’re worth more alive.”

*the feminism leaving my body reading this* WOW I SURE WOULD LOVE FOR BOBA FETT TO TREAT MY LIKE AN OBJECT ON THIS FINE EVENING. JUST MANHANDLE ME AND PATRONIZE ME AND-

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?” ... “What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.” ... You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

BITCH!!!!!!!! THE GASP THAT I GASPED OUT FUCKING LOUD AT THAT LAST ONE OH MY GODDDDDDD RIP MY PUSSY IT WAS GREAT KNOWING HER!!!!!! BECAUSE BOBA IS GOING TO PUT HER 6 FEET UNDER AND I WANT HIM TO DO IT!!!!

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.” ... “I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Why is so fucking hot??????? Why?????

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own. “Exactly how soon had you found me?” You titled your head to meet his gaze. “Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

"You never left my sight" I AM IN SHAMBLES!!!!! Number one (1) because DAMN that competency kink is going to choke the daylights out of me (also hot) and then number two because 🗣️BOBA FETT CARES ABOUT HIS LITTLE PRINCESS SO MUCH AND HE WOULD STOP AT NOTHING TO MAKE SURE SHE'S SAFE AND THAT REALLY MAKES MY PUSSY THROB🗣️

Alriiiight! As I promised to @daimyosprincess - here at long last is Small Favors! This fic…sheesssshhh, this fic. It almost destroyed me! It’s absolute pure filth borne of one too many days of Boba brain rot, so buckle up, people!

Enjoy the ride! 🫠😉

(Zwei, this basically ended up being dedicated to you after all the lovely prof Boba content you’ve been giving us. I hope it lives up to your expectations! 💚🖤)

TW: NSFW, minors dni. This contains smut - predator/prey, fingering, dirty talk, pre-discussed non-consensual sex, piv, f!receiving, bondage, dom!Boba, pet names, teasing, slight degradation, all the usual suspects 🙃

Small Favors

The day Boba Fett called you a hellion, you were pretty certain it altered your brain chemistry.

To make things worse? He’d said it on his way out of the door, dressed in full armor, heading down to the throne room for yet another day of rulership.

Leaving you alone to ruminate on his words.

That simply wouldn’t do. You tried to be his good girl - lounging on his bed, boredly counting the cracks in the ceiling, doing as you’d been told…but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t help but let your imagination take over, wandering to a particular scenario that had intrigued you as of late.

Oh, the Daimyo was strong. Powerful, capable of overpowering you in seconds despite your best attempts to put up a fight. You could never forget it, no matter how many times he pleasured you senseless. But it made you wonder…

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter? The mere thought of your love hunting you down like prey sent thrills coursing through you. But you’d been hesitant to mention it, given how many times he’d openly stated those days were behind him.

But the day was crawling miserably by, the hours even longer, and you needed a distraction. You knew you’d probably regret it, even as you stood and got dressed. But right now, you felt like doing something dangerous.

You were going to play with fire.

You were merciful (or smart) enough to wait for his last visitor to leave for the day, but not a moment longer. You struck before he had the chance to get up.

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. His eyes followed your every step, hunger unabashedly flaring in his amber gaze.

But instead of sitting in his lap as he surely expected, you skirted around the throne, tracing a lone nail along his armor as you walked behind him. He reached for you, but you dodged his fingers with a smirk, tapping the back of his head instead.

“See you’re in a teasing mood.” His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion from the day’s tedious events, but you pressed on, still staying right out of his reach.

“I don’t don’t know what you mean,” you tapped his pauldron with another grin, and he shifted to face you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Oh, you were at war. You knew it was probably in your best interest to do as he said, and he was tired, after all. Perhaps he’d be too tired to play along. But…you didn’t want to throw your plan out the window just yet.

“Maybe you need some exercise. Wouldn’t want your skills to go to waste.” You raised a brow, stepping around the armrest and stopping before him, still out of his direct range. “Why don’t you come get me?”

Boba arched a dark brow, gaze locked on you, completely still. You realized a moment too late he was waiting for you to continue. Either that, or calculating his next move. Probably both. It sent a thrill coursing through you.

“I…”

“What’s this about, hmm?” He crossed his broad arms over his even broader chest, heaving a deep breath that flexed his beskar plates as he fixed you with a quizzical expression bordering intrigue. “Wanna play hard to get? We both know how that would go.”

Ahh, there it was, your golden ticket. That, or the action that would seal your doom. At this point, you’d already committed, and it was too late to back out, now.

“I don’t think you could catch me, old man.” You smirked, hands on your hips, looking at up at him with a raised brow. “You’re a Daimyo now. Lots and lots of sitting. You’re bound to lose your edge.”

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

Boba regarded you evenly, a small smirk working its way on the corner of his lip. Those thick, skillful, beautiful lips. Oh, he did too.

“Is that so?” He looked down at you, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Ahh, so he was humoring you. Good. “So confident today, mesh’la.”

You had the audacity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to spit your tongue out at him. Him, Boba Fett. You were probably one of the few that ever could and live to tell the tale.

“Definitely.” You made a dramatic show of shrugging, making sure you leaned forward just enough to let the low neckline of your shirt do its job. “In fact, I don’t even think it would be hard. I’m fast, cunning too. I bet I’d even be able to outsmart the greatest bounty hunter who ever-”

“Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods.

You somehow managed to pull two halves of a thought together to form a sentence.

“Wanna test that? Give me two days. Bet you can’t catch me.” You shot him a smirk and shrugged. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

“And what would I get in return?” Boba’s voice was cold, calculating. Calculating, as he watched you, eyes narrowed, studying your blown out pupils and shallow breaths. He had to know you found this arousing. Especially if his hunter senses were still keen.

“Anything,” you confidently met his gaze, even as his grip on you tightened. “Anything you want.”

He fell silent for a moment, chest heaving, heart thundering beneath the beskar. A sly smirk curved on the corner of his lip, accompanied with a cutting gleam in his eyes, and it was then that you realized you were screwed.

“Anything.” He mirrored, dipping his head to meet your neck, sucking a bite on your pulse point. You bit back a moan despite your best efforts, far too keenly aware as one of his hands slid down your side and settling on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. “But you’ve already given me everything, mesh’la. Why would I risk losing what is already mine?”

Oh maker, he was playing with you. Making this harder than necessary. Punishing you for disobeying him.

“Umm, I…” you swallowed hard as his hand slipped between your legs, stifling another moan as he slowly, gently, torturously caressed your clothed clit. Gods, this wasn’t how you’d expected this to go. “I…just thought it would be fun, ya know? I’m always…maker…always wanting to try new things with you.”

He hummed, kissing your neck again, then your ear, your cheek, and finally your lips. He kissed you like a starved man, greedily nipping at your lips, tongue carving a path into your mouth, claiming you as his. He slipped his hand underneath your pants, your underwear the only barrier, deft fingers already bringing that coiling heat closer to the surface. You bucked against him, chasing his fingers, and he kept you flush with his chest with a growl.

“So my little princess wants to be hunted, hmm?” He had the audacity to lick a stripe up your neck as he circled your arching clit. “She wants to be hunted like a bounty? Like prey? That what you really want, little one? To feel helpless? Trapped with nowhere to go? Darling, I’ll show you helpless.”

You could only nod, a whimper breaking from your throat when he slowed his movements, delaying your pleasure. It nearly brought tears to your eyes. Dammit, this was supposed to be your game, not his, and yet you found yourself unraveling in his clutches yet again.

You fell silent, embarrassment flaring your cheeks, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you get away with silence. His free hand gripped your chin and tilted your face up to meet his, just forcefully enough to make his point.

“Say it.”

There was no room for disobedience now. Not when you were literally at his mercy. Not when his command rolled through you, making you tremble with excitement.

“I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing on the stone walls, as he zeroed in on your clit again, your pleasure nearly bubbling to the surface.

“So much begging, poor princess,” his voice was a mocking coo as he wrung the pleasure out of you, your vision going white, jaw slack as your orgasm hit with the force of a speeding train. “You’ll have one day, sweet thing. One day to run, and when it’s over, you’ll be begging me to come for you.”

You should have believed him.

Should have realized how hard he’d make this for you. But you’d been confidently foolish, going so far as to travel off world to some backwater forest planet on a neighboring system - albeit sparely populated…just to be safe.

But as the minutes had ticked to hours, and hours into the evening, there still had been no sign of your hunter. Whether this was because he was toying with you, or you’d actually given him the slip, you didn’t know - but you pressed on anyway. And as the cerulean sky faded to lilac and crimson hues, you started to worry.

You’d taken a one way trip to get here, even hired a smuggler to fly you. Anything to make it more exciting. More real.

But perhaps you’d gone too far.

You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of worry cut through your chest. Maybe you’d been overconfident, going to such lengths. What if he had lost his edge? What if he couldn’t find you? You’d be stuck alone, on a strange planet, with nothing but a short range commlink to try to call for help.

Stars, you also missed him. Missed his voice, his touch. You’d underestimated how quickly you’d tire of his absence - and as you slipped through the trees, slowing to a leisurely walk, you finally let your guard down, too lost in your whirling thoughts to keep playing the game you insisted on from the start.

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

You didn’t seem him until it was too late.

Strong arms suddenly wrenched yours behind your back, throwing you off balance and against a nearby tree. Your scream broke the silence, unheard in the miles of uncharted wilderness, unable to break free from the vise like grip clamping down on your wrists.

Boba’s breath flared hot like blaster fire on your cheek as he pushed you against the tree. The rough bark bit into your skin, only a minor fleeing pain, the true cause for your panic currently locking your arms behind your back in a vice like grip.

“Really thought you’d give me the slip, hmm?” His deep voice was rough and staticky with the helmet, tone absolutely deadly as he lifted his binders to your wrists. “Poor little girl.”

You clenched your legs at that - unable to stop the reaction from pushing your brain off the edge, diving into a freefall. Damn it, not yet. You couldn’t let him have his victory this easy. You had to be more of a challenge, flustered brain or not.

“Let. Me. Go!” You twisted in his grasp, tucking up your legs and lashing out with a kick to his chest.

He grunted, the force of your attack pushing him back a few centimeters - just enough space for you to work with. You broke free, heart locked in your throat, and spun around the tree to give you some distance.

You knew you couldn’t win. He was the better fighter in every way - an opponent you’d never once been able to beat, despite your own skill. But just because you knew you were going to lose didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

The trees whipped past in a blur as you carved a wild, desperate path deeper into the foliage. All was silent save for the crashing of your boots through the fallen leaves - the first warning that you were doomed. The second warning came too late.

A sharp prick bit into your shoulder, and your reflexes reacted too late - a scream stuck in your throat when a whipcord whipped around your body - throwing you to the ground. You could already feel the effects of the tranquillized taking over - vision blurring at the edges even as you still struggled in vain. Even as Boba stepped into your rapidly fading sight, armor glinting in the sunlight.

You felt the moment the binders slapped on your wrists, sealing your fate…

And then your vision went dark.

By the time you awoke, the Slave 1 was already well in sight.

You were slung over Boba’s shoulder like a carcass, arms and legs limply dangling, mind still buzzing from the sedative he’d given you. You tried to open your mouth to speak, but your words were a pathetic slur.

He either didn’t hear you, or was ignoring you. You could feel the strength of him, muscles coiled underneath armor - all sinew and power. He held you with one arm, but you knew you’d never escape, that large gloved hand locked around your neck. You whimpered as the ramp lowered, ushering you both inside - inside to whatever fate he had planned for you. It closed, sealing you both in, and dooming you.

You couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he unceremoniously dropped you to the ground, right outside the cells. You wondered if he’d cage you in one to make the experience more real, but Boba seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed your bound arms and drug you across the floor, ignoring your shrieks of protest when he stopped in the center of the cargo hold.

Boba was quiet - he hadn’t said a word since your capture, and part of you wondered if it was part of the act, or if it was truly upset at the lengths you’d gone to evade him. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands.

“Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. I bet of you, let me go!” Your broken voice was truthfully cracked, parched after your strenuous day. “I’ll do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Boba Fett had the audacity to ignore you. In fact, he turned his back on you, lifting his gauntlet to key in a code. A mixture of indignation and embarrassment flooded your chest, prompting your next move.

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?”

“You know what you did.” His voice was low like thunder - cutting. A very different tone than the one he oh so often used with you.

This…this was entirely different. Excitement mixed with fear coursed down your spine as he slowly turned, that black t-visor locked on you with deadly focus.

But you wouldn’t be deterred that easily.

“What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.”

Boba lunged forward with the speed of a viper, taking you entirely by surprise when his fingers gripped your chin, absolutely wrenching your face up to meet his - albeit hidden behind that helmet. And you were starting to realize why many would find it so terrifying. Heart hammering in your chest, you whimpered when his fingers squeezed your jaw, effectively clamping your mouth shut.

“Mouthy little brat, aren’t you?” His helmet was inches away, your panting breaths fogging the visor as he lowered his hand from your jaw to your neck. “Could just put you away in a cell. Would be what you deserve. But I might have to teach you a lesson.”

Oh gods. You swallowed, hard, and couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle beneath him, breaths growing shallower by the moment.

“You? Teach me a lesson? In your dreams.” You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

Boba Fett had the audacity to chuckle. A deep, dark chuckle that rumbled through your chest and tingled down your spine. Oh shit…you were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Is that so?” He gave your neck a squeeze, his free hand gripping your binders with another dark snicker. “Poor little kitten’s trying to give me orders? Ironic.”

His hand left your throat, and you yelped as he single-handedly picked you up by the binders, lifting you into the air, and pinned you against the ship’s wall. He magnetized the binders with a soft buzz, then left you dangling there - your toes barely able to touch the floor.

“What the hell?” You huffed, straining to reach the ground, heartbeat hammering so loudly you could barely concentrate, even as you felt his gloved fingers caress your jawline. “Let me down! Stop this, I mean it. Let me go, you kriffing jerk!”

Boba ignored you, helmet titling slowly to the side as if tracking his own journey tracing your neck until it stopped just above your shirt.

“You asked for this, little one.” His tone was impossibly husky, dark and rich like spotchka on the back of your throat. “You have a choice, kitten. You can either fight me, or…”

His hand slipped under your shirt, burrowing beneath your bra, and caressing your nipple with deft, skilled fingers.

“Choose to enjoy it.” He pinched your nipple too hard, and you yelped, thrashing even as he slowed back to a caress. “Your choice - but you’re not getting out of this.”

“N-no, please,” you tried to shy away, but he wouldn’t have it, pinning you to the wall with one hand, the other lifting from your shirt and wandering ever so slowly lower. “I’ll…comply. I’ll do anything. Just…please don’t hurt me.”

He chuckled, hand settling just above your crotch.

“Still giving orders, hmm? That’s not how this works.” He deftly unzipped your pants and slipped his hand into your waiting heat, a dry hiss emitting from his vocoder when he found the evidence of your arousal. “Dirty, dirty girl. Getting off on this? My, my.”

He circled your aching clit, and you cried out, trying to arch against him, breaths coming in near choked gasps as he quickly worked you towards oblivion. Damn, his patience must have flown out of the window. Perhaps he…

Just when you were on the precipice, Boba pulled his hand away. You cried out on frustration, heart pounding like a drum when he dropped his hands to his own pants, pulling his weeping cock free from its confines.

“Little kitten looks like she wants milk.” His voice was a sinister coo as he ran his thick shaft through your slick. “Poor baby.”

You whined - you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your chest when his fingers once again found your clit, wringing your pleasure back to the surface. But yet again, when you were on so close, he pulled away.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He raised his hand to your mouth, and you begrudgingly licked your arousal off his gloves. “You’ll come only when I tell you too. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Boba…I…” you writhed, pleading, but he promptly removed his hand from your clit with a growl.

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.”

Your eyes widened, moans bouncing off the durasteel walls as he pounded into you, somehow feeling even bigger than normal. Your hands clattered uselessly against the wall, pleasure arcing up your spine as a steady heat grew in the pit of your stomach.

You cried out when he changed the angle, his cock hitting that deep spot that made you see stars. You writhed against him, legs wrapping around his back, trying to force him deeper. He growled, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and you whimpered when a hand reached up and tweaked a nipple.

“Bo-Sir…I…I’m,” you hated how pathetic you sounded, begging like some weak willed thing. But you felt it, your orgasm approaching like a speeding train, and there would be little you could do to stop it. “I’m…so close. Can I, can I…”

“I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Oh Maker, he was torturing you. This was not how you had expected this to go - this was calculated, focused, intentional.

“I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry. P-please…” tears pricked your eyes, and you swore he was driving you absolutely mad, edging you with a calculated skill he hadn’t done before. “I take it all back. I’ll be good…I’ll behave. Just please, please…”

He pulled nearly out of you, helmet pressed against your shoulder, rasping voice directly in your ear.

“Please…what?” He stopped moving entirely until the only sound that could be heard was your desperate panting.

“Please, please let me come.” A tear slipped down your cheek, more from the building denial than anything else. “I’ll…I’ll be a good girl. Your girl.”

Boba grunted, pounding back into you with renewed vigor, one hand finding your neck, the other, your clit. He fucked you relentlessly - your back slamming into the wall as the edges of your vision dimmed.

When you finally came, your vision went completely white - all sound reduced to a ringing as burning hot pleasure seared you to your core. You screamed, writhing against him even as he continued driving into you, less focused and more reckless, chasing his own high.

“There you go, kitten.” His voice was dark with list, armor flashing in the dim lighting. “Not so hard, hmm?”

When he came, it was with a deep groan that reverberated into your chest. He had you pressed against the wall, helmet against your neck, breaths rasping as he finally slowed to a stop.

For a moment, all was silent save both of your panting breaths. Boba was completely still, and for a moment, you worried he was genuinely angry. Had you gone too far? Had you done something wrong? Had you-

His hands reached up and unlocked your binders, catching you before you could fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but cling to him as he carried you to the cockpit, gently laying you in the small cot.

“You okay, my love?” His voice had regained some of its warmth, but still carried a dark edge. “Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded, meeting the visor with a small smile. “You weren’t. I’m honestly impressed you found me so quickly.”

He grunted, sitting beside you, gloved hand slowly caressing your hair.

“Didn’t expect you to leave Tatooine.” The helmet tilted in your direction. “You had me worried, little one.”

Oh stars. Had you gone too overboard? It hasn’t crossed your mind that Boba Fett would be afraid.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” you curled into his chest, holding him close. “I’d only wanted to make it realistic. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “Only startled me initially. Gotta admit it was fun, watching you trying to give me the slip. It was cute.”

Wait a second.

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own.

“Exactly how soon had you found me?” You titled your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

Taglist: @daimyosprincess @hideflen @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @deewithani @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @bobathirstaccount

#now i must lay here consumed with sin and somehow not sell my soul to the devil in exchange for this exact scenario to happen to me #like oh you love me?? then treat me like you absolutely don't; rail me into the next galaxy; then snuggle me bc i'm your babygirl princess #UGH I JUST LOVE BOBA FETT SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AMAZING WRITING #truly blessed on this day #fanfic #boba fett x reader #boba fett #zwei reads

215 notes · View notes

astroyongie · 3 years ago

Text

Red Velvet - June Reading

Note: Please remember to take my words with a grain of salt. Enhypen will be out in a few hours

Irene

Irene is on a particular energy. She is on a relationship, and everything was going very well, however lately she has been feeling very low. That because there’s certain pattern that she sees on her relationship that remembers her of the bad side of her family situation. She has been really feeling sad and distant about the whole thing, she’s scared things repeat themselves. She had a complicated childhood, a lot of things came back to her from that period and it’s affecting her relationship and her private life in general. She’s also scared to have her own family.

I didn’t got anything concerning her professional and career status.

Physical Health: She is taking care of her body and of her appearance a lot Mental Health: She is a little agitated due to her current situation.

Seulgi

Just like Irene, her relationship situation is complicated. She is currently seeing a man (non idol) that is divorced. They have been having a relationship, where she became quite dependent on him, she has strong desires to make it official, however this person has no interest to take this to the next level. They want to keep their relationship with benefits and nothings more

She has been working very hard, putting on practice her own creations, I see new things coming for her but eulogy needs to be careful, because she pushes herself too much and it might end up burning her out. Even so, she’s bound to be successful.

Physical Health: She has having troubles with her tummy, her digestive system, her pancreas. Mental Health: She’s doing okay

Wendy

It’s really fucked up what’s happening with the members when it comes to their relationship, and it’s insane. Without giving too much info, Wendy was talking with someone and creating feeling with them. She was very happy, however she made the mistake to trust them too much with private info and this person had the audacity to share it with their friends. She feels very betrayed and her feelings are all over the place. This happened very very recently, like a few days ago/this weekend

When it comes to her career, she had some nice things coming up, however the company put everything on stop so they can lead with this issue internally.

Physical Health: Doing well Mental Health: She has poor self esteem so she really needs to work on that. There’s a lot of guilt, she’s unstable and doubting of herself a lot

Joy

Again they have a huge curse and the way I felt pure rage with Joy’s reading.. Crush and her are currently in a relationship, they are happy and they are well. However there’s this damn person who keeps harassing her. They had several confrontations already because he is trying to force themselves on her and she keeps rejecting them. However this person has influence and she doesn’t feel secure around them.

Joy has been working, she is determinate since I see a type of travel coming for her, an opportunity that will help her improve and it’s honestly just very nice for her career. I see a brand wanting to work with her as well, things are under discussion.

Physical Health: troubles with her liver, sacrum, lumbar area and her kidneys. Mental Health: Okay, but she overthinks a lot which isn’t good

Yeri

Yeri isn’t in a relationship at the moment, because she has been having her own fun, meeting people and just be free as she wishes to be. However there’s this one person she met through her work, that is very present in her life. For the moment she doesn’t know if she wants a relationship since she doesn’t want to make the same mistakes she has done in the past

Just like Irene I didn’t go any info about her career

Physical Health: Physically she’s very healthy Mental Health: She is suffering some type of mental illness despite the fact that she has been trying to heal and looking for it. She feels very tired, exhausted , she doesn’t speak much with people around her.

#Red Velvet #Red Velvet astrology #Red Velvet tarot #Red Velvet reading #Red Velvet headcanons #Red Velvet imagines #Red Velvet reactions #Red Velvet scenarios #Red Velvet blurbs

80 notes · View notes

hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

Note

now we need a part 4 with izuku and bakugo on what happens next to the poor reader 😩✋🏼

Aight imma do a two for one here so MASSIVE BET

Tw:noncon, gangbang

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you know something is off only half a millisecond before another large hand settles itself on your wrist and another one caressing your side.

You freeze immediately at the voices that croon and snarl to you.

“Open the door quietly and we don’t have to make this any more difficult than it’s already gonna be.”

“God, you smell so good. You still haven’t changed your shampoo even after all these weeks huh? I like it.”

Your hand starts to shake and your body starts to sweat as you wildly try to find a way out of this situation. The voices sound eerily familiar, with one being higher and the other more aggressive and raspy, but you don’t dare turn around to locate the faces.

One of them seems to be catching onto your hesitation, because your wrist is crushed underneath a hard grasp and you cry out softly as they growl.

“Open. This. Fucking. Door. Right now.”

It takes a good 15 more seconds to jimmy the lock open, and once you do all three of you go tumbling in.

You whip back around to see both men standing over you, merely watching you with crossed arms and equally perverse leers.

“D-deku? Bakugo? What’s going on?”

Deku practically bounces on the balls of his feet, itching with inappropriate anticipation for what’s to come.

“We wanted to play with you! Are you ready? You can’t fucking ignore me anymore!” His voice is cheery as always but it breaks when he curses, the strains in his vocal cords sticking out while he forces himself from holding back.

Bakugo steps forward.

“Didnt I tell you I was gonna come again for you, you teasing cunt? Didn’t I say to watch your back? Now look at you, sprawled on the floor like rapetoys should be.”

Both men start slowly uncrossing their arms and advance towards you.

“No-no please, why? I didn’t do anything to you! Deku, please!” You blubber as you scuttle backwards, their strides equally as long.

You continue evading them as they play around with you.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words. ‘Deku, please.’ Although, I’d very much rather you moan it for me.” He has the audacity to blush, and then Bakugo interjects.

“You deserve this y’know, so don’t start crying now. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” He spreads his hands and his uncharacteristic grin stretches from ear to ear, his vermillion eyes flashing in the dim light of your dorm.

“Anyone whose stupid enough to not realize how this creep has been sniffin’ your panties for months-hell, maybe even years now should get raped. You’re so fucking stupid, you didn’t realize I was protecting you from him.”

“But now look at you. Alone, afraid, vulnerable…oh, and going to the bedroom. You really are an easy slut, huh?”

Deku’s eyes light up when he realizes you truly are unknowingly backing up into the bedroom, but you realize it too late.

It’s only after Bakugo’s words come out that you try to look for a detour for the lock-induced bathroom, but Deku has a different idea.

Out of pure excitement he laughs and sprints towards you, hands outreached to touch your pretty skin, mouth open with drool softly filling the tile below him and eyes bloodshot with lust.

He looks like a creature from hell, and in the pure terror of watching him come at you like that your plan to detour was thwarted and you mindlessly trip back over your feet onto the bed, scrambling as far away as you can from them to the headboard.

You look to your left and quickly seize your bedside lamp, raising it above your head.

“Domt come any closer you closer perv. God, I shouldve known you were fucked in the head. I kept trying to make excuses for you, I thought you were my friend-“ you break down in sobs as the green haired man continues looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, absentmindedly wiping his hand across his mouth.

“And you,” you point to Bakugo who bares his teeth and smirks madly, “I already knew you were the embodiment of hell, but I thought you had a limit of how low you could stoop. You didn’t protect me from shit, you forced your way inside of me day in and day out.”

“Well now that your useless little monologue is over, Deku, tie her legs to the posts. I swear Y/N, you’re making this way too easy for me. It’s almost boring, I already know what I’m gonna get.” He raises his eyebrows at you while he lets his minion do all the work for him, goosebumps racing up his arm at the sight of you screaming and fighting tooth and nail against your fate.

But at the end of the day, after all your curses and sobs and monologues, you’re no match for either of them, especially Deku, who cooes at you to scream louder while he caresses your face and uses nylon string to secure your wrists to the wooden posts. Your legs are also bound after Bakugo seizes them from kicking, and a gag is placed over your mouth by his hands.

He roughly taps the tape covering your trembling lips and smiles condescendingly down at you.

“You’re doing so well for us, rapemeat. Keep up the good work and try to spread those legs as much as you can.” He chuckles when you scream your lungs out, thrashing as he yanks your knees apart.

“Aw, Kacchan, can’t we take the gag off? I wanted to hear her in my ears,” he pouts and looks glumly at your writhing figure.

“No, how fucked in the head are you? Someones gonna come down if she’s hollering for the whole building to hear. And cut her clothes off, I’m getting impatient.”

It seems like Deku too was at his last fiber of self control as his hands shake equally as much as yours, except for an entirely different reason altogether, the opposite reason of yours in fact.

He fishes in his back pockets for something, and produces a glinting steel knife with a black handle.

You still immediately as his descends his hands to the top of your v-neck shirt, right above your collarbones. His eyes fog up as your satiny smooth skin comes in contact with the blade, the coldness of the steel sending shivers down your spine and making you sob harder.

“Kacchan…did you ever get a taste of her blood? How does she taste?” He lifts his head to look into your tear-streaked eyes, but he addresses his childhood friend.

Bakugo snorts. “Calm down Toga, don’t get too crazy yet. We’ll have some more fun later, right now my dick is about to explode. ‘Need a hole,” he mumbles at the end and finally clambers onto the bed right atop your legs.

You stay absolutely silent as pressure from the knife rips the thin strands of your clothes apart, and Deku takes careful care to ensure you at least have thin red lines running down your stomach if not for actual blood.

“Oh fuckkkk,just look at her. You look good enough to eat…” he looks at you and licks his lips, salivating when you whine and twist at your restraints.

“Yeah yeah, you do whatever the fuck you want. Just choose what you’re gonna stick it in and hurry up.”

The blond looks bored almost as the more eager one whips to the side to face him.

“You mean it Kacchan? I can pick?”

They speak as if you’re not alive, no feelings or humanity involved. All you can do is watch and yell into your makeshift gag as the blond waves him off.

“Go for it. It’s your first time satisfying that sick head of yours, ‘must get boring doing it from behind a screen all the time.”

His slowly turns to face you, a kind leer etched across his features, eyebrows slanted and hand coming up to pull your ripped clothes apart.

You struggle and spit muffled profanities out as he slowly drags the bridge of your bra down, eyes wide open as your nipples pop out and eventually both of your tits bounce out.

He hisses and takes his nails up your stomach to fondle your breast. You can tell Deku’s too excited, too inexperienced from the way he handles them like stress balls. You grunt as his mouth latches onto a pert nipple, suckling and looking up at you as if he were some kind of demonic baby.

Bakugo watches all this with a dark glint in his eyes, absentmindedly palming himself as he watches the show unfold in front of him.

It’s entertaining seeing all of the creep’s hormones spiral out of control from years of pent-up lust. He’s never seen the dork so fired up and hungry, he’s never seen him so brutal with a civilian before, the type of people he used to say he’d protect at all costs.

After he’s done playing with your sore tits, he wasted no time in yanking your sweats off. You don’t even trash around anymore, the only thing you’re capable of in this state of terror and shock is weak moans and little sobs, maybe a writhe or two here and there.

Your panties are also torn off and you howl when the elastic cuts into your skin within the process. Bakugo takes this last stripping as an indication for him to move now. He lifts himself up on his knees and moves around your head while Deku situates himself between your violently twitching legs.

“I’m gonna take the gag out now. If you scream or pull any funny business I’ll plug your pussy and your throat with this knife, got it?” He snatches the weapon from the bed and waves it dangerously close to your face.

You nod frantically and try to turn your head to the side, but he yanks you back into place and decides to have his own fun.

While Izuku hurriedly takes his own shorts off the hothead slowly takes the tape off your mouth, staring down at you with unblinking eyes. The knife which you’re so afraid of is traced around your own squeezed shut eyes, down your cheeks and around your lips.

But the horrified trance on which he keeps you in is broken when Izuku suddenly shoved his entire length inside your dry cavern.

Luckily Bakugo has enough foresight to slam a hand over your howling mouth before the entire building can be woken up, and he glares at the sheepish-looking man down the bed from him.

“Are you a fucking virgin? At least rub her clit or something so she doesn’t go hollering at every thrust you damn nerd!”

The man between your legs winces and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“Oops, sorry, got a little carried away there.”

He doesn’t pull out, he merely thrusts slower, trying to fit his fat dick inside your unwilling cunt.

A string of curses leaves your lips and you grimace as the pain becomes near blinding.

Bakugo looks down at you again, the knife forgotten.

“No teeth either.” Your breaths come out in little frantic pants when his bare cock springs out of his own pants.

He taps the leaking purple tip on your lips and you open hesitantly. There’s no point in resisting anymore, they’ve got you quite literally cornered.

“Wider, slut,” he snarls, and you do-but only because Deku’s paps get more aggressive, causing your mouth to fall open in a long whine.

The blond takes this opportunity to slam his length down your throat, groaning around when he sees your throat swell with his bulge.

You immediately start gagging and trying to pull at your restraints for air, his heavy balls rest right on top of your nose and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

You can barely hear him over Deku’s animalistic grunts and whines. He’s going way too fast, as if he’s possessed by your pussy. It numbs you, taking away some of the pain in a flip side.

But on the other end of your body, you’re desperate for air while a fuzzy ballsack paps against your nose and eyes.

Each sadistic stroke he puts inside of you widens your sore esophagus, bringing bile up sometimes and large amounts of saliva too.

He’s not as loud as Deku, but he’s equally as greedy with your holes.

Your body literally hovers up almost in midair as Bakugo thrusts in and lifts his hips up, taking your upper half along with it and Deku does the same unconsciously, trying to fuck up into your womb.

It’s an exact replica of a perverted spit roast, with both of them catching each other’s rhythm and slamming inside your holes at the same time.

Your clit is suddenly rubbed inexpertly to the point of overstimulation, and the incoming sob forced out of your throat warps into a pained scream.

The vibrations of your scream makes Bakugo cum suddenly with a hoarse groan. He doubled over your body and gnaws at your bouncing tits, licking and teething at them the same way his counterpart did.

The sight of copious amounts of cum being leaked out of your filled mouth propels the green-haired man to whimper and shove himself back in one more time, hitting your cervix and causing both his and your eyes to roll back.

He cums too, but both men keep their semi-hard cocks inside of your aching body.

You don’t know what’s worse, having both of them by your side or both of them inside.

966 notes · View notes

natsukitakama · 4 years ago

Text

Being in relationship with Gojo Satoru would include

Author note : got nothing to say about it. I’m his personal hoe even though I’m aware about what Gege-sama said. Let’s say I can’t be saved. It’s too late for that LMAO. Anyway let me know if you enjoy this ♡ (also I changed my head canon’s page setting how does it looks ?)

Warning : slight nsfw / me simping over a man that would definetly not give me time / also I didn’t catch up with the manga (Japan’s scan cause we’re kinda late in France)

Update : I didn’t say it obviously I do not own that gif credit to the owner(s) 🙏🏻

Masterlist

Request are Open

a lot of work.

As Gege said themselves they didn’t see Gojo being faithful or interest on a relationship (still hurt btw)

But why ?

If we look carefully we can see that his relationship with every superior are pretty densed : he is absolutely against his own cast and I won’t be surprised that he is pretty distant with his family and the member of his clan. Which mean basically they’re not so much people who are closed to him

He didn’t allow them to be close

Again since he tends to be pretty narcissistic and is not afraid to threat everyone that might be against him cursed or not.

So let’s say he got couple of ennemies.

Then I remembered his first interaction (or at least of the first he got) with Yuta. We all remember what happened to that girl he was so deeply in love, remember what Gojo said ? He actually said that in his opinion love might be the worst cursed or something like that. Meaning he is aware about how dangerous love can be.

So here’s the thing it’s not like he is not faithful (even though he is into one night stand) but he can’t allow himself to fall himself nor will he let someone falls for him. Because they will became an easy target, they will become his worst weakness.

Especially since he is super busy it would mean that he couldn’t be with you whenever he wants to.

So that would explain why he is not really into relationship cause he knows it would be dangerous for him.

Also I don’t believe he was raised with love, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t closed or never seen any act of love so he is pretty cold about it cause he is used to.

In addition his personnality is ... well he is piece of works. So it’s not that easy to fall in love with him (I mean deeply in love not just being attracted to his physics) and it’s difficult to make him falls in love too. (It would be for another headcanon)

But now let’s pretend you went through his childish nature and he let you get to know him and boom you’re started a relationship with him

He is clingy asf you know that 99% of the time he is walking not giving a single shit about people think about him. That man is so confident he knows no one would dare criticize him for being a clingy or boyfriends and if they do it He would claim that they are just jealous of him.

Even if he is super chill about everything he would never broke any of your boundary. So if you’re comfortable with him hugging you in public or giving you a deep kiss that’s fine he will keep it for later.

But that won’t stop that little shit for teasing you. Oh no. It’s even worst if you are shy, oh god he would do anything just to see your cheeks getting red. He just loves it. It’s addictive.

Cause let’s be real, if he actually started a relationship with you was because he was way too addicted. Your relationship probably started with some one night stand that wasn’t just one but sssh. Then you started to hang out together not dating calling that a date because you guys didn’t want to put a name on it. Then both of you started to be territorial and get upset when one of you flirted with another. It last until You and Gojo couldn’t just sleep or think without being close together.

He is like a sweet drug you know ? Once you got a bite you can’t just stop. Same way for him as soon as you got him, you won’t be able a le to keep away.

That also explain why he is clingy he just has to touch you, simple touch deep touch intimate touch he doesn’t care all he needs was you close to him.

When you guys became serious (put a name on it cause you were already a couple but whatever) the man became even more noisy if that’s even possible.

He praises you a lot not matter what job you have what passion you’re followed anything. You’re just the best S/O of the entire world.

Also he show off a lot cause everyone thought Nanami would the first to be in a relationship with a S/O but he failed

And oh boy does Gojo loves that.

He can’t help but remind EVERYONE (including his students of those coming from kyoto) that he is dating you

« Aaah can’t wait to be home I bet Y/N would make those delicious cookies of them. It’s so good to go home to find your beloved. Oh yeah you can’t know that you don’t have a S/O so sad »

You little shit

As I previously said he tends to not be around that much because of his jobs, but that’s okay he would make it up one way or another.

I know some people believes that he will take his S/O to the greatest restaurant, or into those luxurious places. It’s true sometimes he just find you to have a good quality time but he also wants to spoil you so it’s good way to do it.

But most of the time I think he might be into those private date when you’re into a little cafe or having a picnic. Again I don’t think he had the chance to enjoy those private moment with his family when you’re just enjoying the people you loved in the simple way. And he just loves seeing you cook for him it stroke his ego and melt his heart.

I heard somewhere that he might be touch starved and I agree with that postulate. I do believe he wasn’t raised with love and tenderness so that would explain why he could be so touchy-feely with people and so that’s explain why he is clingy.

He is definetly into carrying and simple person, he is just a giant baby he loves being taken care of he wants to have your attention 24/7, that’s just who he is. When i said simple,it’s more like not superficial cause he won’t tolerate that he hates when people has the audacity to lie in front of his face or believes they can manipulate him.

A lot of people tends to think he is stupid or easily to use because of his childish behavior and he hates that. He has a huge ego.

So he won’t like it if you’re trying to get something from him. If you want to say something just say it.

Even if he is huge tease he would never judge you or make fun of you (not in a mean way) so he expects you to be blunt about your feelings. If you think he is an idiot for always keeping everything for himself tell him.

If his S/O is a civilian he might not talk about the jujutsu world at first but then when he realized he was bound to them. Like he couldn’t breath without you he would tell you the truth.

He kiss a lot. I’m not making the rules he just kiss very easily and each of them have a meaning. Cheeks kiss is to ask you something like buying an ice cream when it’s 4AM (use it with his best puppies eyes cause the fucker knows his effects on you). Nose kiss are like morning kiss, he tends to do it a lot after sex too it’s just another way for him to say I love you but in a cute way. Head kiss is to reassure you that everything would be fine, it’s also his way to comfort you when you’re sad it’s always followed by an « everything would be fine » or « I’m here now it’s okay ». Kiss on your lips could be a way to tempt you for sex who goes along with a bite of your lips of a stroke of your hair, but his kiss on your lips could also be his way to remind you how much he loves and how much he miss you.

But no worry he is not afraid to tell you he loves you, but he just kept those works for special moment.

He hugs a lot. From behind when you’re cooking for him, cuddle you while watching a movie or put you against his chest so you would climb around his body like a koala

Nest your face against his neck and he would melt right now. The feeling of your breath against his skin damn he got shivers all the time

Time to time don’t forget to stroke his ego like cuddling him and tell him how good you feel like you feel safe. He needs time to time (also even if he might tease you a little bit, do that and you’ll get extra kiss and cuddle time)

Also he can’t say no to you. Puppy eyes are useless just took his hand and ask him slowly to do something and he would do it.

The problem is you can’t say no to him too. Cause 1) he is super convincing when he wants to 2) because he knows you can’t say no to his pretty face especially his eyes 3) and if you’re fighting his attraction over you he would use puppy eyes on you. So either way he got what he wants.

You guys definetly got some « sweet » dates at 4 AM : like he just woke up because he dreamt about those delicious mocchi he tastes when he first met Itadori and now all he could think about was those mocchi. So he got you at 4AM to buy and share some mocchi together. Even though you hated being woke up like this you couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that he woke you up so you could share a meal together

It comes from nowhere but you guys have sex a lot. He is horny it’s written on his face I can’t change that. He is intoxicated he can’t help it but need to feel you clinching around his dick, bitting your lips and scratching his back as he thrust into your core.

He daydreams a lot and 99% it’s not pure at all

He sext you a lot even during a meeting, he just took his phone and text you about how boring the meeting is and how he wish he could just ravage you in front of them so they would shut up for once.

He is pretty open about everything when it came to sex it’s not like you can break him or anything but he loves it every time you came to him asking for something you might want to try but be afraid he won’t be agree or might hurt him.

It’s so cute that you thought you could hurt him physically

Somehow he managed you to have sex in his office which you were kinda up to it but he also convinced you to do it on a car as soon as ljichi left for a call. He can’t help it you were just so cute so tempting looking like this by his side and well he is into semi-public sex he just don’t give up a fuck LMAO who’s gonna say yell at him anyway ? He is THE Gojo Satoru.

Not sure if I said it before but he won’t mind dating a simple human, he is just so bitter about everything his world is a mess so it’s fine that he can’t be normal, just man hanging around the personne he loves without thinking about his position about his clan, the cursed. Just couple of hours during his day where is just your boyfriend, he cherish that.

It doesn’t mean he won’t date an exorcist, but it might be even more difficult since he can’t help but wondering if you’re actually into him (which is hard considering his antics) or if you’re into his position. But if you managed to show him that you actually didn’t care about the whole clan, position and everything yeah he would be into you. It would be more simple cause he can be with you 24/7 or at least as much as possible, and protect you even though you don’t actually need someone to take care of you. He just has to do it.

He spoils a lot, remember how easily he would book a restaurant for his students ? Same things it’s even worse cause sometimes during a mission he walked around a new street and it’s like « damn that’s look yummy » and after being sure nothing could harm you (especially if you’re allergic of If you a vegan or veggies) he would book a reservation and then took you on a date.

He does that a lot, since he can’t manage to have quality time as much as he wanted he just does things like that so you can share a meal together and also because he can tease you during the whole night then teleport both of you into his house for « sport » activity.

Also he tends to buy some many things, like he could walked in Tokyo and see a grandma selling some candle he would buy it just because it seemed aesthetic for him, and now everytime he saw something that reminds him of you he buys it. So you guys got plenty of things that you can’t throw away since Gojo linked them with a memory of you.

Speaking of things who belongs to you, he wears your clothes and you wears his, remember how easily he wore Nobara’s skirt he is pretty skinny he can wear anything and won’t bother asking you first. Just get used to it cause he doesn’t plan on giving up.

I do believe that a relationship with you force him to be more « mature » or at least not always acting like a child. But let’s be real he would still act like a baby you sign for this.

In the end it’s an healthy relationship even though he tends to be flirty sometimes, he would be careful if he noticed that you’re not comfortable, or he would make sure to reminds you that he is actually in love with you, he won’t go anywhere. No matter if you’re an exorcist or not, you would still be afraid that one day he won’t comeback, so he makes sure to spoil you, love you to erase that fear. He is the strongest and doesn’t plan on leaving you soon.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #Gojo Satoru #Satoru Gojo #Gojo x reader #Satoru x reader #Satoru Gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #jjk #jjk Gojo #Gojo Satoru headcanon #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #Gojo x you #Gojo Satoru x reader

408 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults.

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar.

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word.

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom who was kind enough to let me use it.

Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously.

A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo.

Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next.

As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

"Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them.

"They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

"Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk.

Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action.

Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him.

She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul.

When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary.

"You alright, Ivar?"

The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth.

"This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips.

"Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage.

Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion.

Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over.

With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence.

Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.

She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight.

Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream.

Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

But never this.

Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

"No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there.

She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him.

He vowed to make sure she did not regret it.

He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him.

She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body.

"Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone.

With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her.

"Dance for me, my beauty."

A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head.

There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir.

Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body.

Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire.

He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded.

If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames.

Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army.

"Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations.

"Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them.

"Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood.

He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent.

"Still with me, my beauty?"

Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men.

Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon.

Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind.

If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist.

When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know.

Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights.

Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe.

Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence.

"Who…. are you?" He stuttered out.

She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

"Y/n?"

She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

"Shhhh…. surrender to me."

Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously. Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible.

"Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need.

And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her.

"I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again.

She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died.

When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore.

"No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before.

He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room.

"You alright, brother?"

Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish.

"You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call.

"Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

"Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

"No, you can go back out to the feast."

"Okay, good night, Ivar."

Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts.

"Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back.

"Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips.

Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity.

274 notes · View notes