#Commander Posh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ja3yun · 4 months

Text

Royal Sacrifice | S.JY

prince!jake x maid!fem reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, heartbreak, my attempt to write posh-ish, anti-monarchy vibes throughout, mentions of violence, petnames (my love, sweetheart), not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.1k synopsis: your secret relationship with prince jaeyun is all you could have dreamed of, however, you're rudely awakened when your lover tells you some devastating news.

part 2 a/n: surprise! you're all sick of me i know, but i wanted to post this before it sat in my drafts too long and i overthought to the point of never posting it </3 i changed up my writing style a little to fit the aesthetic of it all and idk if it worked but enjoy anyway! also, this is for the people asking me to post more jake <3

"Tonight demands nothing short of perfection from each and every one of you. Not a single mishap or slip-up will be tolerated. Should I catch so much as a hair or button out of place, rest assured, I will personally request your head." The Chamberlain's voice, firm and commanding, spreads through the grand corridor, her gaze penetrating the maids and footmen.

As she paced back and forth, the bright torch cast a soft glow against the polished marble floors, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into its surface. Each uniform was meticulously inspected, and every seam and crease was subjected to intense scrutiny. The weight of the impending event hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation.

Tonight, within the confines of the castle walls, the royals and social elite would congregate for the year's largest gala. It was an exhibit of greatness, with the chosen guests flaunting their rank and power.

For the last seven months, you have wandered the castle's hallways as an insignificant maid to the Royal family of Glengyre. Your hands were battered from hours of labour and your spirit dwindled to the hardships of the job, but you had to do it.

You weren’t exactly invited into the castle, in fact, you had snuck your way in through the war tunnels underneath and begged the head housekeeper, Miss Son, to place you on her team.

Being born into a working-class household, you were all too familiar with the misery of poverty. With your parents absent and your siblings relying on your meagre earnings from the bakery, you carried the burden of duty from an early age. Survival had been your main priority, with every move controlled by the never-ending search for food and security; this was the job you needed.

Once you convinced Miss Son to give you a position, you were mindful to keep a low profile, sticking to your duties and never causing trouble. You dare not even breathe too loud next to the monarchy, each of them vicious and gruel in their own ways.

Yet amidst the icy family, there existed one beacon of warmth and compassion - Prince Jaeyun, the only heir to the throne.

He was the kindest man you had ever met, his values and ideals so drastically different from his fathers; all he ever wanted was peace and equality for the kingdom of Glengyre. His opinions echoed your own, his vision for the kingdom a testament to his noble character.

Everyone adored him, captivated by those puppy dog eyes and his wide, wholesome smile. Jaeyun had a magnetic charm that drew people to him effortlessly.

And yet, amidst the throngs of admirers, he reserved his heart only for you.

Jaeyun was familiar with all the staff, each face and name etched into his memory. So, when you suddenly appeared to clean the Library, he took immediate notice of you.

“I don’t believe we have met,” Jaeyun bows his head slightly to you, causing confusion to spread over your face. Men of his status shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone show you this level of respect, “Has The Chamberlain begun to hire new staff for that god-awful ball already?” he chuckles.

You’re transfixed by his question and his beauty, it’s not every day a Prince speaks to you, let alone so casually.

With this being your first job at such a level, you don’t know what to do. Typically, all maids get training and lessons on how to approach any member of the Royal Court, however, due to the nature of your employment, that part was skipped.

Jaeyun raises a brow, “Miss, are you alright? You look dreadfully pale,” he shows concern for you, even when he has no need to.

Quickly, you bow, “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I-I have been here for a while. Perhaps I have just blended into the background,” you offer as an explanation.

“A woman as beautiful as you could never blend in with this dreary decor” he smiles, holding out his hand, “Can I push you for your name?”

He waits expectantly, his palm outstretched as it waits for you to place your delicate hand into his. You didn’t need training to know you should never touch a member of the Royal Family, so you stay stagnant.

Noticing your apprehension, Jaeyun smiles and reaches his hand down to grab yours. You don’t want to say you felt a spark as soon as his hand graced yours but between you both, you could easily power up the castle generators.

He feels it too, the pull you had on him has been cemented by this moment, “I’m Prince Jaeyun,” leaning down he kisses your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you as he does so.

The Prince is mesmerising.

“Y/N, Your Highness. My name is Y/N,” your voice is wavering as your body is shaken by his act. You aren’t scared of him, you’re just shocked by his kindness.

“Y/N…a name as breathtaking as its owner.”

Since that day, Jaeyun hasn’t left your side, his presence constant as he finds any excuse to be in the room you’re working in, his conversations tailored to draw out your thoughts and passions.

To him, your background was irrelevant; he saw the depth of your character and your mind's brilliance. Every exchange deepened his admiration for you, weaving an unbreakable bond between you both.

Secret notes and clandestine meetings became the norm, each encounter is a stolen moment of shared laughter and intimate conversation. Jaeyun was captivated by your wisdom and fascinated by your unique perspective on the world.

In your second month at the castle, on the moonlit balcony of his bed chambers, he kissed you, declaring his love for you in the same breath. From that moment on, he was not just a prince but your prince, devoted entirely to you.

The Chamberlain gives you all one final check before sending you out, her excitement palpable as she practically squeals, "Places everyone, this is a big night!"

As far as you and the rest of your team are concerned, tonight is just another ball, one hosted nearly every month. But The Chamberlain's demeanour suggests otherwise - someone vastly important must be attending. The air crackles with anticipation, and whispers ripple through the servant ranks, speculating on the identity of the esteemed guest.

As you all fall into line at the entrance, you wait for the party to begin.

The sight of everyone's extravagant gowns and suits is awe-inspiring. Each guest seems to sparkle, adorned in riches that could feed your family for years. It serves as a striking reminder of the kingdom's vast disparities. Meanwhile, the servants stand in their modest uniforms, hardly visible amid the sea of finery.

It irks you to know that these people, who all have some power in ruling your home, could not care less about the people within it.

“You two, come with me,” The Chamberlain beckons you and the girl beside you to follow her, snapping her fingers as she hurries you along to the kitchen.

With little instruction, she thrusts a tray full of champagne into your hands. “Once empty, you come right back. I do not want to see one moment where you are not serving some form of beverage. Understood?”

“Yes, Madam Chamberlain,” you both say in unison as you bow and make your way to the Great Hall. The palace is now teeming with people from all corners of the kingdom, the room resonating with laughter and chatter. You'd find it enjoyable if you deemed any of these people tolerable. Drinks disappear and reappear from your silver tray, and not a single word of gratitude is uttered.

Finally, the Royal family enters the hall, with the King standing strongly at the front and his Queen elegantly alongside him, their presence commanding attention as they survey the gathering with royal poise, looking for the most important person in the room beside themselves.

However, Jaeyun is not like the others. Amidst the pomp and its beauty, his sight is drawn to a person considerably less notable.

In an instant, his attention falls on you, a delicate smile gracing his lips as he lifts his brow in discrete acknowledgement, a silent greeting in a noisy environment. The difficulties of being in a secret relationship with someone so far above your social status weigh hard; even in the same area, being seen with Jaeyun is a luxury you cannot afford.

Excusing himself from his family, he greets people on his way over to you, captivating the whole room as he does so. To everyone else, he appears to be merely working the room, exchanging pleasantries with ease, but you, standing in quiet anticipation, know better.

In that moment, it's as if the entire hall fades away, leaving only you and Jaeyun in your own private world. He moves closer, each step filled with purpose, each smile and gesture meant only for you.

As he approaches, his every move exudes royalty. It’s impossible to deny that Jaeyun was born to be king.

"Can I take one of these to lighten your workload?” Jaeyun asks with a playful glint in his eyes, already reaching for a flute of champagne.

You dip your head in a respectful curtsy, mindful not to spill the drinks as you balance the tray precariously. Miss Son's strict instructions echo in your mind - no engaging with royalty at events, let your body speak for your tongue.

But sometimes, Jaeyun takes that directive too literally.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jaeyun says, his voice low and intimate. You hear a collective sigh from some nearby girls, their attention momentarily diverted from their own conversations to admire the Prince and his effortless charm.

Walking to stand next to you, his arm brushes yours as he looks in the opposite direction to you, he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “Should I tell them I’m happily taken or would you like to put them in their place after hours?” his tone is laced with playful mischief.

“I would much rather occupy my time after hours with someone else,” you reply with a smirk, keeping your head facing forward to maintain composure.

You can't see it, but you feel the shift in Jaeyun's expression, a flicker of excitement, a hint of anticipation. His eyes dart briefly to yours, a silent exchange of mischief passing between you.

“Well, tell him he’s the luckiest man in the world,” Jaeyun responds, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doesn’t he already know that?” you retort, a lively glint dancing in your eyes.

Jaeyun's hand lightly grazes your back, “Believe me, he will never forget,” he says wistfully as he turns away, seamlessly slipping back into his role of mingling with the guests. The lingering warmth of his touch leaves you breathless, your heart pounding with excitement at the thought that despite the separation now, he will be tangled in your body and soul later on.

The rowdy girls behind you giggle, their voices rising over the bustle of the hall as they discuss the Prince's past escapades with their cousins and sisters, whispering about how they hope they could spend just one night with him.

Jaeyun's reputation spread beyond the castle gates. He was renowned as a charming playboy, a Casanova whose dalliances sparked chatter across the kingdom. Every week, a new maiden appeared, talking about their alleged "hot affair" with the heir. It was enough to make anyone apprehensive, and you were no different. You maintained your guard up at first, rejecting his advances, refusing to become just another conquest in his succession of women.

But the more you spoke with him, as you shared moments and secrets in the quiet corners of the palace, you came to realise that the instant flurry of admiration you felt was not one-sided. Jaeyun's heart beats for you and you alone.

You discovered in him a love that went beyond gossip and whispers, a love based on trust and understanding. With that realisation, your reservations vanished, replaced by a deep assurance that Jaeyun was yours, and you were his, now and forever - or for as long as you could keep this illicit affair going.

The bell sounds, its loud chime cutting through the murmurs and whispers of the gathered guests, signalling you and the others to proceed to the main door of the castle.

"May I please introduce King James and Queen Elizabeth of the Lethamhill Kingdom, and their daughter, Princess Mia," the Master of Ceremonies declares, his voice full of power.

The announcement strikes like a thunderbolt, bringing the audience to a profound silence. Nobody had expected the arrival of the Royals of Lethamhill and the astonishment is evident as you look around to see a sea of stunned faces. Whispers spread like wildfire across the crowd as each visitor grapples with the implications of this unexpected situation.

Lethamhill and Glengyre are currently involved in delicate discussions about the possible unification of the kingdoms, a topic of enormous political importance. According to what Jaeyun has told you, these conversations have been stressful, with no definite agreement reached so far. The presence of the Lethamhill Royals at this gathering signifies a historic point between the two kingdoms.

The struggle between the two kingdoms has caused irreparable destruction, including starvation, poverty, sickness, and a staggering loss of life. It would take something genuinely extraordinary for both parties to put aside their differences and work together in peace.

Your eyes meet Jaeyun’s across the room, and you can see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his composed facade at the sudden intrusion. Yet, even as anger flashes in his eyes, you can sense the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

No one knows quite how to react to this unexpected turn of events, each guest grappling with their own thoughts and fears as they await the next move from the Lethamhills.

“Please, do not stop on our account, continue the festivities,” King James proclaims, his voice carrying a jovial tone, a vibrant smile gracing his features.

As the party continues and dinner is served, guests settle into their assigned seats, laughter and conversation filling the air as they merrily drink the castle dry. Surprisingly, the presence of the Lethamhill Royals doesn't disrupt the flow of the event, instead, it seems to enhance it. Many see this as a reconciliation party now, eagerly awaiting the announcement that could potentially solidify peace between the two kingdoms.

Your role for the evening is clear: shut up and stand to the side, only interacting if called upon. It's undoubtedly the most tedious part of the night. Being on your feet for hours on end, catering to the whims of the guests is exhausting enough but enduring the occasional push or intentional spillage of drinks on your uniform from some of the more unruly guests adds insult to injury.

The other worst part of the evening was the sight of Princess Mia draped all over your lover, her hands roaming possessively over his chest and arms as if they were hers to claim. Each touch felt like a dagger to your heart, stirring a tumultuous mix of jealousy and hurt within you.

Jaeyun attempted to gently remove her, pushing her away with as much politeness as he could but she stubbornly refused to listen. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to you with a sympathy, silently communicating his regret at the situation and how you must be feeling. He would never wish for you to be hurt.

Telepathically, you reassure him that it's okay, that you understand and trust him implicitly. After all, it's not his fault that another woman - a tall, beautiful, rich, and powerful woman at that - feels entitled to touch him. His efforts to remove himself from the situation already speak volumes, and you take some solace in his unwavering loyalty.

But despite your attempts to rationalise, the bitterness lingers, a bitter pill that's difficult to swallow.

Standing on the sidelines affords you the opportunity to observe the dynamics of the entire top table, not just Jaeyun. The Kings engage in whispered conversations and the Queens gossip amongst themselves. It's as if no blood had ever been shed between their kingdoms.

The casual camaraderie displayed by those responsible for the devastating conflicts between their kingdoms makes you sick to your stomach. How can they be so chummy, so nonchalant, when their irresponsible fighting has caused so much pain and suffering to countless lives? It's a reminder of the callousness of those in power, their indifference to the consequences of their actions leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Suddenly, you see your King rise and tap Jaeyun on the shoulder, ushering him into an undisclosed location. The urgency of the gesture sends a ripple of apprehension through you, and you can only presume that he is finally letting Jaeyun in on the reason for the Lethamhills' unexpected presence.

“Why do you suppose they are here, Y/N?” Heejin, the girl to your right, asks in a hushed breath, her voice tinged with concern.

“I can’t say for certain, but I fear it won’t be for the champagne and escalope,” you reply, turning to face her, your expression mirroring her worry.

And when Jaeyun re-enters the hall, you know that your apprehension was not unfounded. His face is devoid of the charismatic expression he had worn for most of the night.

The king wears a stern expression, clearly unamused with whatever his son has to say in rebuttal to his conversation.

Something is deeply wrong

You scream at him with your eyes, silently urging him to look at you, but he doesn't, his gaze fixed straight ahead. It's clear that whatever transpired in that conversation has deeply unsettled him, and you ache to know what happened.

“Excuse me, Miss Son, but may I please go to the lavatory?” you ask your head maid, hoping to slip away unnoticed. Her disdainful scoff is the only response, urging you to return quickly.

With a bow of gratitude, you glide towards the exit, silently willing Jaeyun to notice your movements and follow you. Your eyes briefly meet his, and he nods, understanding your need for a private conversation.

You arrive at your usual secret spot - the Council Chamber - a place where every decision is made and policies are signed. It's a room steeped in history and power, but also secrecy and intimacy. Old men come here to dictate the fate of the kingdom they supposedly love.

Jaeyun recommended this particular room as a defiant ‘fuck you’ against societal norms of hierarchy and privilege. It's ironic, considering he's made love to you on every surface of the place, turning his statement from metaphorical to literal.

Tracing your fingers over the spine of the old book laid on the desk, the door swings open suddenly, causing your heart to race with surprise. You quickly straighten up, trying to compose yourself as Jaeyun strides into the room.

“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asks softly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he approaches you.

You shake your head, “No, not at all,” you say trying to ease yourself, straightening your uniform and brushing the dust off your front. He always laughed when you tidied yourself for his presence, a habit when you’re faced with Royalty. You’re hardly unacquainted, the portraits hanging on the room walls can testify to that.

Finally reaching you, Jaeyun's hands find their way to your hips as he traps you between him and the oak desk. His eyes glance behind you to see what you were looking at, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Ah, the old laws that have kept this country from falling apart. To be lived and breathed by,” Jaeyun's voice carries a mix of sarcasm and despair.

“Laws that keep the rich rich and the poor poor,” you respond bitterly, your thoughts drifting back to your family and friends struggling back home.

Jaeyun's hands move up to your back, offering a reassuring rub. “I hate it too, Y/N,” he admits, his heart heavy with the weight of his people's suffering under his father's rule. He hugs you tighter, a silent reassurance of his solidarity and commitment to change, commitment to you.

Leaning back, he strokes your face adoringly with his middle finger, “You look so delicate tonight,” his voice conveying his love for you. Even dressed in rags, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

“More delicate than Princess Mia?” You don’t mean it to come across as bitter, yet, it does.

Jaeyun shakes his head disapprovingly, a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes, “My darling love, are you jealous?”

“She is ravishing,” you reply. Princess Mia is everything you are not, it wouldn’t be misplaced for you to be slightly envious of her. You know the Princess could have anyone she desires, and if circumstances were different in which Jaeyun wasn’t hopelessly in love with you, she could probably have him too. That information would unsettle any lover to know.

Jaeyun places a feather-light kiss on your forehead, “She doesn’t hold a flame to your light, Y/N,” he says with such genuine love that you might believe him if you weren’t clad in a spilt-on uniform and tired eyes that reflect the brutality of being a measly servant.

But Jaeyun would never see you that way.

His lips swoop down to yours, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss, planting his deal of assurance on your lips. The way his mouth is melting into your own is enough to make your knees lose their strength. Jaeyun’s thumb rubs your hips tenderly as he deepens the kiss, trying to make the taste of you last the rest of the night.

Pulling back for a breath, you recollect yourself, smiling at him happily but as you gaze into his eyes you see something sorrowful hiding behind him. It wasn’t until this moment you forgot why you even snuck away to see him in the first place.

“The King seemed displeased,” you state the obvious, hoping he will enlighten you somewhat to the reason for the private discussion.

“He is an idiot, nothing more,” he spits back, eyes avoiding yours as if he’s scared of you suddenly. You have never seen him so angry yet sullen.

Reaching your cold palm to his warm cheek, you begin to pry further, “Jaeyun-”

Your query is cut short by his lips once again enveloping yours, the intensity of his kiss a silent plea for you to cease your questioning. It's unlike Jaeyun to keep secrets from you; usually, even the most classified information finds its way past his lips and into your ears. So naturally, his reluctance to share the details of his conversation with the King sets off alarm bells in your mind.

But as his touches grow more insistent, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your neck and his fingers daringly inching up your skirt, your thoughts become increasingly muddled. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You hate that he won’t confide in you, that he's keeping you in the dark about something so significant. Yet, at this moment, you find yourself unable - and unwilling - to complain. Not when every touch, every caress, sends sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

“Jaeyun, I don’t have time,” you manage to groan out amidst a wave of pleasure, the urgency of the situation gnawing at the back of your mind. Miss Son could come looking for you at any moment, and you've already pushed your luck by leaving your duties unattended. There's simply no way you can disappear for long enough to satisfy Jaeyun's desires.

But he seems determined to ignore your protests, his fervour only intensifying as he continues to explore every inch of your body. In this stolen moment of passion, time seems to stand still, the outside world fading into insignificance as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of your forbidden.

With each caress, each whispered endearment, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his affection.

But as much as you crave the blissfulness of his embrace, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the consequences of your actions. You can't afford to be caught in such a compromising position, not when the stakes are so high and the dangers so real. Just down the hallway is a room full of people who would kill either of you for this affair.

"Jaeyun, we can't," you finally manage to gasp out, your voice tinged with desperation as you push against his chest, trying to put some distance between you. "Someone could walk in at any moment."

For a fleeting moment, Jaeyun's passion seems to falter, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. But then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

"I don't care," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever."

The tone of his voice dings your attention, it’s pleading and needy which would be normal if his words didn’t waver, lip quivering slightly. The conversation with his father had affected him more than you know, and he dared not confess what it was regarding.

With a sense of urgency in his veins, Jaeyun hoists you onto the desk, his hands promptly pushing your skirt up and yanking down your underwear, revealing your core to him in all its delicious glory. His breath stops in his throat at the sight, and his need for you becomes stronger than ever.

He licks his lips hungrily, wishing he could taste you, savouring the wetness that gleams between your thighs like morning dew. He wants to drink you in and lose himself in your folds.

But time is not on his side, he knows this, nonetheless, the throbbing between his thighs, the thumping want for release, is too strong to ignore. He was so desperate for you to suck in his cock with your heat, he didn’t think he had the restraint to wait for it any longer.

His need for you is mirrored in your face and body as you edge yourself closer to the end of the desk, spreading your legs as he undoes his ivory dress trousers and lets his shaft spring free of its constraint.

“Can I please?” he asks softly but with urgency, the tip of his member already primed to enter you, the question just a matter of formality at this point.

“Please, Jaeyun, have me,” you whisper into his mouth and with a low groan of need, Jaeyun surrenders to his instincts, his desire overwhelming as he slips inside you with effortless ease. No matter how many times he makes love to you, the sensation of being so intimately connected to you never fails to amaze him. It's as if you were made perfectly for each other, two souls destined to intertwine. He thanks God every day for bringing you to his side.

His thrusts are pointed, to make this quick while also giving you both the release you desperately needed. Your tight pussy grasps every inch of him deliciously, accommodating his size yet giving him just enough resistance to squeeze the tip of his cock.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, you anchor yourself to him as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. You moan loudly through your bitten lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet; he was pounding into you so good you just can’t help the noises leaving your mouth, completely rending you dumb to his touch.

The sound of your gasps and mewls fills the air, a symphony of pleasure that drives Jaeyun wild with desire. Each cry, each whimper, only serves to fuel his drive, pushing him further into the depths of ecstasy as he loses himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together as one.

Arching your back leaves the nape of your neck exposed, inviting Jaeyun to sink into it with his teeth, easily leaving a red mark. It’s the first time he has ever done something like this, to leave physical marks on your body that aren’t the bruises from his tight grip; those were easy to hide, but this one wouldn’t be.

“Ah, Jaeyun, what are you doing?” your bated breath whisps past his ear yet he doesn’t hear you, lost in the feeling of fucking you silly. He sucks and licks at the base of your throat, possessed by his need to claim you as his.

“My love,” he brings his face up to lock your eyes together once more, his cock hammering into you still with force, “Tell me you'll be mine forever," he begs, his words hanging in the air between you like an urgent vow. The intensity of his stare and the sheer emotion in his speech leave you breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you try to find the words to answer.

Tears fill his lashline, and his eyes are unexpectedly vulnerable. In that moment, you can see the depth of his love for you and also his sudden fear that he might lose you. The sudden change in emotion takes you by surprise, your Jaeyun who is usually confident and strong in moments like this is now yearning for confirmation of your love.

"Yes, Jaeyun," you say, your voice barely audible as you completely yield to him, "I'll be yours forever,” It’s a truthful answer, the only one who you can see yourself being with for the rest of your life, long or short, is him. Your Prince Jaeyun.

He shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, seemingly shaking his internal thoughts out of his brain to make way for your reassuring ones. “I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t…I won’t,” he rambles, the rhythm of his thrusts depleting, signifying that he’s close to the edge.

To distract him from his inner monologue, you cradle his face, kissing all over his lips and cheeks. If you can do one thing for him, it’s to instil in him the fact that you will always be his love, until death do you part.

“Y/N, my sweet love,” he whispers sadly, “Don’t let me go,” his plea is muffled by his lips kissing your palms.

You have no idea what could cause this sudden cast of doubt in his mind.

Jaeyun’s right hand moves to your sensitive nub, circling it with his thumb as he tries to coax you to completion. His hips buck sloppily, overwhelmed with the raw emotion and need to cum inside of you.

The bubbling heat between your tummy and pussy consumes you, the climax Jaeyun has worked so hard out of you finally spilling over his shaft and down yourself. Your legs shake violently as he continues to rub your clit in earnest.

The way your body contracts and walls clench around him also sends him to the brink, his seed filling you up quickly, each spurt dripping down your canal and onto your inner garments. The Prince keeps himself stuffed inside you as he pants, unsure of when he will finally be done.

Resting his head on your shoulder, he breathes out softly, trying to calm his panting and heart rate down. He knows he shouldn’t have asked you to stay with him forever, to promise to love him for eternity, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to hear it almost more than he needed to find his release.

With a final kiss on your lips, he removes himself from you, retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket to catch the cum falling from you. While he does so, you can see his mind shouting so loud you could almost hear it, or maybe it was just because you are both so attuned to one another.

You have to find out what is happening and why he is acting so strangely.

As Jaeyun tucks himself back in and discards his handkerchief, you watch him closely, your heart heavy with concern. There's a weight in the air, a silent tension that hangs between you like a thick fog, and you can't help but feel the ache of his unspoken fears.

Jumping off the desk, you fix your underwear and approach him slowly, your movements deliberate as you reach out to straighten his jacket. Your touch is gentle, “Please, Jaeyun,” you implore softly, your voice barely a whisper as you search his eyes for answers, "Let me in. What are your worries?"

But Jaeyun remains silent, his gaze averted as he avoids your questioning eyes. You can see the pain etched into every line of his face, the fear and uncertainty that threaten to consume him whole. And yet, he can't bring himself to speak the words that weigh so heavily on his soul, scared that if he does. It’ll all be too real.

You can sense his hesitation, his reluctance to confront the truth that lies buried deep within him. But you refuse to give up, determined to stand by his side no matter what challenges may come your way.

Gently, you place a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet yours as you speak from the depths of your heart. "Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice filled with love and understanding. "You don't have to face this alone. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. I promise."

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” he begins, voice trembling, “the King has put me in a predicament I cannot get out of,” he leans into your touch, craving your comfort.

Tilting your head, you stroke your thumb over the flushed apple of his cheeks, “What are you talking about?” you ask nervously.

Swallowing the thickness of his turmoil, he speaks lowly, “He has arranged my marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill.”

As Jaeyun reveals the truth of his arranged marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill, a heavy silence descends upon the room. Your heart sinks at the revelation, a knot of pain and disappointment tightening in your chest. This isn't the news you wanted to hear, the realisation crashing down on you like a wave of icy water.

"Oh..." The word escapes your lips, your mind reeling with the implications of Jaeyun's confession. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that your secret love is soon belong to another, bound by duty and obligation.

Retracting your hand from his face, you take a step back, the distance between you a painful reminder of the barriers between you. But before you can retreat any further, Jaeyun reaches out to stop you, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

“My beautiful girl, I told him no,” he implores desperately, hoping you don’t think that he didn’t fight against this preposterous idea, “How could I ever marry her when my true love is already by my side?”

His words offer you a sense of relief, however, you know the King wouldn’t let him away with a simple ‘no’ in regards to this marriage, “I surmise he did not take it well?”

"Of course, he didn't," Jaeyun's voice is bitter and cold, his body tensing as he recalls the conversation with his father. "If I do not marry her, the proposed treaty between our kingdoms will be broken, and there will be conflict."

He was the glue to bond the kingdoms, it was all on him to marry this woman he didn’t know in the name of unification. He is being used as a pawn in this game of power and manipulation and it makes you wonder whether Princess Mia is also going through the same distress, although, with how she was groping Jaeyun earlier, you doubt it.

“A conflict, you mean a war?” you dare ask.

He nods shallowly, remorse etched in his features, “And our King has made it perfectly clear that I will be on the front line.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, the pain of it like a dagger to your chest. How could the King do this to Jaeyun, to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb in a game of politics and manipulation? It's cruel, it's unjust, and it's utterly heartbreaking.

"Your father cannot do that," you say slowly, your mind reeling with the enormity of the situation. "It's... it's unthinkable."

But Jaeyun shakes his head, his expression filled with bitterness and resentment. "That man is no father of mine," he declares, his voice filled with anger and defiance.

Opposite to his anger is your sadness, eyes leaking salty tears at the thought of losing your love. No matter the choice Jaeyun makes, he will never be yours. That is something you should have known from the beginning of your relationship.

You and him can never live in love or peace, it will always end in heartache and loss.

The Prince sees your sobs and pulls you in, circling his arms around you tightly, “My love, please don’t shed tears, I hate to see you cry like this.” he mutters into your hair, kissing the crown of your head gently.

But how could you not cry? You’ve just in this instant lost the love of your life.

The room is so silent all you can hear is the raucous laughter and music echoing from the grand hall. It gives you the opportunity to think about how the war would pause all laughter for every citizen of Glengyre, how the only sound you will hear is guns and screams of those desperately seeking escape and safety. You cannot allow that to happen.

“Marry her.”

“Excuse me?” Jaeyun pulls away, disgusted that you would even dream of proposing such an idea. He was yours and only yours, he wouldn’t even dream of lying with another.

You know that you must make him see reason, that there may be no other choice if you are to prevent the looming catastrophe that threatens to tear your world apart.

"It is the only noble thing to do, Jaeyun," you insist, your voice trembling with emotion, "We cannot allow our love to stand in the way of peace, of saving those people from the horrors of war. If marrying Princess Mia is what it takes to prevent bloodshed, then it is a sacrifice we must make.”

He doesn’t register your words, only hearing his heartbreak at the thought of you not being by his side, “But I will lose you, it will be impossible to be together if I marry her,” he begs you with his eyes to change your mind.

“You will lose me either way, Jaeyun,” you release yourself from his grasp, taking a step back to create the inevitable distance that is about to become your reality, “The people of this kingdom need you, Jaeyun. You are the only one that can make a difference to those less fortunate,” you begin, your eyes locked onto him as you portray the seriousness of your words, “If you go to war then there is a certainty you will die and you are no use to the cause of change if you are dead.”

The words get stuck in your throat, the idea of uttering such horror makes you feel sick to your stomach but the lives of hundreds must take priority over your love, no matter how painful.

"But-" he begins, his voice tinged with desperation.

"You cannot be selfish, Jaeyun," you interrupt firmly, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes. "I couldn't look at you the same if you sacrificed the welfare of our people for the sake of our love."

The truth of your words lands heavily between you, a painful reminder of the sacrifices that must be made in the name of duty and honour. And though your heart may ache with the prospect of losing him, you know that it is a sacrifice you must be willing to make.

Jaeyun ponders your words, recognising that you are correct: his people are his primary concern. He wishes he could do more to keep your relationship alive, to make you his Queen. As he stands before you, staring at you with loving eyes, he wishes you were the ruler of Glengyre, for your qualities and ideals already shine as if you are.

Suddenly, the bellow of your name echoes the castle halls, Miss Son shouting erratically to find you. It brings Jaeyun to realise that his fantasies of you being his queen are just that - fantasies.

Clasping your face in his big hands, he shakes his head, signifying his defiance to the idea but succumbing to his duties, accepting this fate, “I will always love you, and I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Even if it’s in another lifetime,” he whispers the words onto your face, sealing them with a final kiss, his tongue now craving to remember you for a lifetime, rather than just a night.

You curtly nod, trying to bottle the emotions you are feeling, scared that if even one drop overflows, you will take back everything you have just said, sacrificing the people you love for the man you love. You could never win in this situation, and neither could Jaeyun.

“I love you too, my sweetheart,” you confess for the last time.

Miss Son’s footprints are right outside the door, putting your own feet into action as you leave Jaeyun to return to your post as a maid, the delusions that you could ever be with Jaeyun for a lifetime are crumbling away with each patter of your feet on the marble floor.

“Ah, there you are! What on earth are you doing in the Council Chamber?” she shouts at you while still being mindful of the guests only a hallway away.

You bow, offering no explanation and slip back into your role, smoothing yourself down to seem presentable. The togetherness of your exterior is the complete opposite of the shattering of your interior, your heart shattered in fragments as you stand back, overlooking the people you made an eternal sacrifice for. And none of them would ever care. The promise you made to love Jaeyun forever is the only peace of your heart left in place.

Jaeyun comes back into the hall a few moments later, poised and stoic, the only change in his face is when he looks at his father with an angry glare and a nod to follow, much to the delight of the King.

Abruptly, the King stands, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed guests. I have some exciting news to share!”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen angst #enha angst #enhypen fluff #jake smut #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes

1K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

Text

Now, Fallout!AU for Raider!Konig and fem!Reader...

Konig as a raider. Your typical one - wall of meat, muscles, mean motherfucker who doesn't really care who to kill and who to fuck after. It might be from one of the less drug-addicted gangs, most of the shit never works on him anyway. Might be radiation, might be mild mutation - no one cares. He isn't a leader of the gang, never good at working with people and commanding them - but he is good at shooting people and taking their stuff. He is good at spotting and sniping, despite people around laughing at his huge form scrambling behind a stolen sniper riffle. This is how he spots you, actually. A vault dweller - this much is obvious. You can lead him to your stash, a can deep in the ground. Filled with people, vault-dwelling rats - the ones that are too fucking good for this place. Konig thinks he hates them - but honestly, half of the wasteland does. You do look good in that tight suit of yours. Bright blue on the dry yellow of the ground below. he wondered who designed the suits - if people knew that every dumb underground rat would be spotted from at least 3 kilometres away in that bright blue thing. Works for him, though. He flips off the guy who didn't want to spot for his position. His rank in the gang is high enough to just get a guy by his neck and force him on guard duty - all while he is getting ready to catch the little rat. It was a while since he saw someone so pretty - honestly, only Vault dwellers can be considered pretty at this point. Clean skin, moderately clean hair. He knows that if he gets to smell you, you'd have this awesome stench of cleanliness. Would be lovely to push his nose into your hair as he fucks you on his bunk. Might even clean his room a bit so the underworld princess won't be too disgusted at the perspective of being chained to his bunk. A prized property. Pretty helpless thing.

Konig drags you to the compound with ease. You're too startled at the sight of a giant hooded man approaching you with a very mean gun on his hip - not even in his hands, since he is confident he can snap your neck with just two fingers. You whine like a brain calf being split in two at some posh casino far in New Vegas - he brushes his hand over your ass, gripping it. Patting it. You do have a weapon - he disposes of it now, just getting it to his pocket. You freeze when he takes your pip-boy off, snapping it off your wrist with ease. You mouth a little plead with your lips. Konig laughs. You have a Vault location in here - it's funny how such a silly thing is going to be the doom of your people. The gang leader would probably be sad they didn't get to torture you for information, but Konig is making sure the whole gang will be satisfied hearing your moans and cries the whole night. Everyone knows that Konig is a beast - and that if they try to get the leftovers of a pretty Vault girl, they will be used as a target practice next. You do smell good. Konig takes note of breaking into some abandoned building and trying to fetch water and cleaning supplies so you could continue to smell nice. Wants to doll up his pretty Vault snatch - even finds some old, pre-war dresses. Plays house as long as gang allows it. Some of the younger members give you a pitied look, hearing your little sobs every time Konig forces you to move. Some of the older members know that the moans you're letting out aren't the ones of pain. Konig isn't the one to share and to talk, so he never even brags about his girl. Just has her attached to his hip, clinging to his armor since he is the only one who you know here. At least you know him, somehow. At least you know he likes his pretty Vault rat too much to let you get hurt. By anyone but him, that is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #yandere cod #cod x reader #fallout

476 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 7 months

Text

Prompt: Tall (Discord Drabble) I don't think I've written Steddie-height difference discourse/banter so here we go...

As Dustin huffs another frustrated breath beside her, Robin rolls her eyes. She can feel the kid folding his arms beside her as they watch Steve and Eddie flap about, arguing about their non-existent height difference near the front door.

Steve promised he would do all the restocks today while Robin showed Dustin the ropes, prepping their friend for a potential summer job – one that only Keith could officially grant.

But she didn't expect her best friend to immediately become distracted by Eddie's nonsense. He's become kind of a (total) pest, coming in on one too many breaks from the mechanic down the street to tease, taunt and sickly flirt with Steve at every possible opportunity.

Robin grips her notebook, her Bible of Family Video work processes she wants to impart on Henderson in order to impress his potential employer.

She thinks she'll just about break its goddamn spine if the scene before her carries on any longer.

"You are not taller!" Steve complains, holding his arms tight against his sides and puffing out his chest for maximum height.

Eddie snorts, "Oh pish-posh, Steve."

He mirrors Steve's stance and honestly, as she eyeballs it, Robin is sure Munson looks to be an inch taller.

... At least in his work boots.

Steve must read her mind because he quickly points to said height-assisting footwear and clicks his fingers.

"Boots, off!" he commands and Eddie grins.

"Yes, sir!" he enthuses.

"Yuck," Dustin grimaces.

Robin thinks her eyes might roll back into her skull, never to return.

Shoes off now, Steve and Eddie square up again. Steve smirks.

"See?" he teases, "Taller."

Eddie practically hisses as he looks him up and down, fists clenched tight. He murmurs something to himself before he attacks Steve's hair, patting his quaff down and smoothing it out with flat palms. Steve screams, batting him away.

His resistance creates a chaotic (and more than a little pathetic) slap-fight.

"What-cha-fu – "

"You're a no-good cheat with that hair!"

"Don't touch it!"

"Don't worry, Stevie, you're still bigger where it counts."

Dustin claps his hands over his ears.

"Disgusting!"

Steve manages to shirk away from Eddie's hold around his waist, jumping back far enough that he almost falls straight into the shiny new cardboard cutout of Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

"Henderson!" he pants, clutching at his lower back. He takes a moment to gather himself before fishing in his back pocket and retrieves his wallet.

He hurls the thing across the store. It goes flying as Robin and Dustin both fail to catch it. The wallet hits a candy display, knocking a box of 3 Musketeers and scattering them all over the floor inside the counter space.

"Oops," Steve says, bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

Robin catches his eye and scowls.

"Dustin..." Eddie huffs, winded, "Go buy a tape measure."

#at this point family video is the setting of a sitcom for me 😂#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #dustin henderson #lilys drabbles #stwgdailyprompt

329 notes · View notes

bloopy-writes · 2 months

Text

Imagine Damian commands Titus to “speak” one day and Titus just starts talking in this super posh British accent and everyone is surprised except Alfred

#batman #dc comics #batfam #bloopy’s headcanons #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #titus the dog

104 notes · View notes

sophswritingthings · 7 months

Note

I'm not the original anon for the 'x apothecary reader' but I've become absolutely invested.

But I was just thinking... About the whole situation with akemi in the brothel house and how that would go down with the reader?

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): mentions of prostitution/sex work, swearing

a/n: the fact that ya'll are enjoying this series so much….. I’ve gotten three separate asks that are not from the full series. this is my dream as a fic writer, let me tell you!

summary: your wife leaving and going into the brothel without you made you nervous. and the clatter that followed worried you more; so much you spring to your feet to find out what’s happening.

word count: 530 words / 2,823 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when madam kaji finally approached, your wife got to her feet quickly. you had waited hours on hours for the madam to appear, she was eager to finally get on with this.

you looked up at her with a concerned expression. she gave you a little nod; trying to assure you with her safety.

did you want to believe her? your mind certainly didn’t. but mizu was a skilled samurai who could take down a woman such as madam kaji in mere seconds, if she so needed.

you watched her walk off with the madam, off into the dark corridor of the brothel.

it had been about thirty minutes, and mizu had still not returned. she was just supposed to talk to the madam, right? mizu.. she would never—

—you couldn’t think like that.

a loud crash in the back of the brothel had alerted you, though. if anyone was causing trouble in the brothel; it was definitely your wife.

you were hesitant to get to your feet. you didn’t want to intrude, yet…

you got to your feet, and headed down the hallway. the room you had watched madam kaji lead mizu to had the door closed; worrying your further.

first, you opened the latch to the door. you saw your wife with a woman pinned to the floor, her hands tight around her wrists. you slammed the latch shut, pushing the door open with such force.

when you stepped inside, mizu looked up at you. as did the woman. mizu looked absolutely terrified.

mizu wasn’t scared of much.

but her wife angry? god that was her greatest fear.

you glanced down at the woman, you recognized her in an instant. princess akemi of kyoto. and there you wife was, sitting on top of her.

“first of all, back up,” you hiss, commanding mizu to move. mizu did so, releasing akemi's wrists. akemi sat up, rubbing her wrists in pain.

“don’t tell me your upset with me,” mizu whispers as you step closer to her.

you knew mizu would never cheat on you with how devoted the two of you were. but you had every right to be pissed off at finding your wife with another woman, pinned to the ground.

“I know you would never do that, you wouldn’t dare,” you grumble, sitting beside her. “though I do have to question what in the flames of hell you we’re doing.”

“she attempted to attack me, it was self defense,” mizu glared at akemi.

“a princess running away to a brothel, of all places. than attempting to kill my husband? I think not.” you narrow your eyes, “we'll sit here until the madam returns.”

“husband?” akemi scoffs, her voice posh as ever. “why you would want to marry a demon is beyond me. you are a fine woman.. you would have your pick.”

you roll your eyes, “because love does not rest on physical appearance. or blood, even. I love him, and that is the end of this discussion.”

you stand up, to loom over the princess.

“attempt to hurt my husband again and I will hurt you, understand?”

akemi timidly nodded, genuinely spooked by your demeanor.

“good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I’m sorry it’s so short babe, it’s just a lil drabble <3

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #request #fic request #ask #asked and answered

245 notes · View notes

prettyprettypaci2 · 7 months

Text

Squire - Part 1

"Her Majesty's squire must make no attempt to displace the collar."

Your fingers are tearing at the heavy strap of pink leather fastened to your neck when you're startled by the deep, masculine voice behind you. Despite the welts you've dug into your skin, the thick ring of material remains snug against your throat. The collar is so tight that you can feel the blood in your face pounding with every thump of your heart. Your breathing is slow and heavy, and you feel dizzy for want of air.

"I demand to be released!" You croak. Your body defies you with a coughing fit as you sacrifice precious oxygen for your outburst. You grab the post of the small bed in the chamber, struggling to regain control of your airflow and wheezing until your lips are coated with spittle. Mucus oozes from your nose, and you reflexively move to wipe the excretions on your sleeve. Instead, you paint your bare arm with the slimy drippings -- an unpleasant reminder that your clothes were stripped before the guards locked you in here.

"Her Majesty wishes to impress upon her new squire the totality -- and the finality -- of this arrangement," the low, posh voice replies. When you reassemble your composure, you turn your head to get a glimpse of your captor. The first thing you notice is his waistcoat: stitched with an exotic Persian motif, its polished onyx buttons gleam darkly against shimmering gold threads. His prominent cheekbones and clean-shaven face give him a sunken appearance, and make his shifting eyes appear as though they might leap from their sockets at any moment. He rests his long fingers on the silver handle of a thin black rod that taps the stone floor as he walks.

"There has been no arrangement!" You sputter, your eyes watering as you continue to tug at the suffocating collar. "I am the eldest child of the Duke of Berceau, with all the rights granted by age of majority. I have come in good faith to sue for peace, and your guards have behaved perfidiously!"

"Her Majesty's squire will refrain from using words with more than two syllables!" The man with the waistcoat barks. "Just because the squire is not yet padded does not mean its obligations to the Crown are forfeit. This level of tutoring is unseemly."

"What did you call me?" You cough, giving up on the collar and focusing your efforts on breathing. "I am no lady's squire, and I am no 'it!' My name is --"

"Unimportant!" The man with the waistcoast interrupts ferociously. "A squire has no personhood and no possessions within the walls of this palace; not even a name. Her Majesty will bestow a name on her pet if she sees fit to do so. Until then, it is 'squire.'"

The man approaches you, and you calculate your odds of success in a brawl. He stands a head taller; a bit gangly, but not unhealthy. Your debilitating collar and lack of clothing make you a vulnerable target for the thin black rod he twirls in his hand. You decide against violence, for now.

The man reaches out with his left hand and grabs your scarlet cheeks between his fingers and thumb. He squeezes your flesh so that your lips form a crude pout. A chill runs up your spine and you flinch as you're forced to stare deeply into the man's bulging eyes.

"Her Majesty prefers squires who are obedient, delicate, and beautiful. A squire at court should be joyful, silly, shameless, and dumb. It does not use long words. It giggles gaily at jokes it does not understand. It vanishes when unneeded and makes merry when commanded. All together, a squire must be Her Majesty's jester, servant, hound, and whore. Does it understand?"

Your labored breathing intensifies. It's clear this terrifying man expects an answer of you, though he speaks as if you're not even in the room. You manage a whimper of confused protest, which the man stifles by tightening his grip on your cheeks. The corners of your lips are now touching, your face scrunched up like that of a child imitating a fish. Unsatisfied by your silence, you feel your jaw bump painfully into your pink collar as he forcibly nods your head up and down in an indication of 'yes.'

"I am Blackwood, Minister of the Queen's Holdings," the man says, pulling his hand away abruptly. "I am responsible for Her Majesty's horses, pigs, cattle, and dogs. The health and training of Her Majesty's squires fall under my portfolio. The squire will also work closely with Madame Matilda, who sees to the palace servants."

Cattle and dogs?! You take a step back from Blackwood, and feel the glass of the cold window on your bare back. You had examined it earlier when you were first imprisoned in this chamber, but determined you would not survive the fall had you attempted to jump. You wonder if that would not have been the easier fate.

"There has been some grave mistake," you groan, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"There has been no mistake. Her Majesty's squire will dress itself and accompany me to see Madame Matilda. She will then see to the squire's diapering."

"Diapering?" You gawk, certain you've misunderstood. "What do you mean by this?"

You yelp in agony as you feel Blackwood's rod cut across your stomach. You double over and descend into another coughing fit, concerned that you might vomit from the pain and inability to breathe. A dark purple line begins to form on your abdomen where the stroke of the rod connected with your flesh.

"I will waste no more time," Blackwood says haughtily. "The squire will dress itself or it will walk the palace naked. It's clear that it has already gone too long without being padded."

You struggle to remain standing, using the stone wall for balance. "What is it I am meant to wear?"

Blackwood sighs as if the answer to the question were obvious. He walks over to the simple bed and stoops to open a drawer you hadn't noticed beneath the straw-filled mattress. He retrieves a folded garment and tosses it to you roughly, clearly pressed for time.

You unfurl the cloth, which feels luxurious and silky in your hands. You gasp as you behold what Blackwood has given you: a small, tight dress with short billowing sleeves, the same soft pink as your leather collar. It has an immodest feather skirt that flares from the waist, which would leave your legs and loins almost entirely exposed. You're not even sure that the frilly garment would fit you.

"This is entirely inappropriate!" You wince as Blackwood grips his rod again; less annoyed, perhaps, by your protest than by your offensive use of so many syllables. You make a supplicating gesture to indicate you intend to obey. Concentrating on your breathing, you pull the silky pink dress over your head and slide your arms through the loose sleeves. The wound from your beating stings as you pull the tight bodice into place on your torso. The starched feather skirt sticks out nearly two feet in all directions without the need for a petticoat. There is no mirror in this room, but you're sure you look ridiculous.

"Her Majesty's squire will be given stockings and shoes after it is fed and securely diapered," Blackwood says, as if reciting some dull speech from memory. "Understand that until such time as it has been trained and earned the Queen's favor, it is not to leave the Squirey. If it makes any attempt at escape or at removing its diaper, the punishment will be unforgiving." He clicks his rod against the stone floor, causing you to jump. You feel your stomach tying itself in knots with all this talk of diapers. You glance uneasily about the room, noticing for the first time that there is no chamber pot for relieving yourself. Surely that doesn't mean...

"The squire will walk in front of me as I direct it to Madame Matilda's squiring hall. Make haste, but do not outpace me."

The stone floor is freezing as you march barefoot through the corridors of the palace. You try to commit the twisting passages and stairwells to memory as Blackwood directs you, to get a better sense of your location in the vast estate. But you find yourself distracted by the feather skirt which rustles beneath you and squishes through narrow doors. You're sure you could not find your way back to the bed chamber if you tried.

At last, Blackwood produces a ring of keys and passes one of them through an iron lock on a heavy oak door. With a little effort, he pushes it open and you feel as though you've stepped into a completely different building. The windows are enormous, casting ample light on the elegant and colorful tapestries depicting scenes from classical myth. Your feet, aching and numb from the cold ground, find succor in the soft pink oriental carpet that has been laid from wall to wall. You hear the sound of running water, and a chattering of high-pitched voices. Blackwood looks visibly uncomfortable in this luxurious space.

"Madame?" He bellows, barely inching across the threshold.

The chattering falls silent, and a severe-looking woman with long red curls and a black gown emerges from an alcove.

"Minister!" She shouts, her green eyes flashing with ill temper. "Let us hope your management of the Queen's Dairy is more timely than that of Her Majesty's squire, or we'll all be drinking spoiled milk!"

Blackwood seems to visibly shrink in this woman's presence. "It is a stubborn one, Madame. And it has been educated. I fear Her Majesty will be most displeased."

You're not sure whether to feel proud or insulted.

"Trust me, Minister; within a season, Her Majesty's squire will have forgotten more of its tutoring than you ever had." The red-haired woman seems to size you up, as though inspecting a cut of meat for purchase. "Quite an unusual choice. Not unprecedented, but highly unusual."

You feel the urge to speak, but think better of it. Blackwood takes a step backward out of the carpeted hall. "I will leave you to your business, Madame. Please keep me informed of the squire's progress. Her Majesty hopes it will be trained for appearance at court within a matter of weeks."

"Bah!" The woman throws up her hands. "I could train a monkey to appear at court in a matter of weeks. I will have this one barking on command in five days. Out with you! I've much work to do."

Blackwood bows stiffly and taps his rod on the ground before slamming the heavy oak door. You're left shivering beneath the gaze of this overbearing woman.

"I am Madame Matilda; but an educated squire shall have already figured that out," the woman says. Every word out of her mouth feels like a dare to see what happens if you challenge her. "The Minister is bound by tradition never to address you directly as a person; and it is true, you are not a person. But within the Squirey, such niceties are impractical. I will address you directly when necessary. Do not mistake this for leniency."

You swallow hard, feeling the leather collar's unrelenting grip on your neck.

"It was a mistake to leave you collared without diapering you immediately. It gives squires a silly notion that they are a prisoner, and prisoners think only of escape."

You take a deep breath and test your luck with a question. "Am I not a prisoner, Madame?"

"Ha!" Madame Matilda laughs cruelly, grabbing your wrist and leading you deeper into the carpeted chamber. "A prisoner lives in a very little world, but lives for themselves all the same. You do not have a self to live for, squire. You are owned in your entirety by Her Majesty. The Queen owns how you walk, and crawl, and sit. She owns the words you use to speak and the thoughts that are in your head. And when you dine on her food and drink from her streams, she owns your nourishment, too. You will keep these gifts from Her Majesty in your diaper, gratefully, until such time as she permits you to discard them."

As you turn the corner into an alcove, you see a cadre of three young women in white robes standing around a high rectangular table. Leather straps dangling from each corner give it the ominous appearance of a torturing rack, but there is no winch. One of the women is holding an object in her hand: a white rectangle of padding. It appears to be overlaid with an odd material that glistens in the light. The strange diaper unfurls noisily in her hands, the shiny material crackling like a flame as she spreads the white cloth out on the table.

"Your time has come, young squire," Madame Matilda whispers in your ear, making your hair stand on the back of your neck. She tugs playfully on your pink leather collar, and your sudden dizziness makes the room spin. "From this moment, your only purpose in life is to be dainty, docile, diapered, and dumb. You are a pet, destined only to serve Her Majesty and to fill the soft padding forever clinging to your hips. Get up on the table, and embrace your new life. There is no turning back."

👑 Part 2 👑

#ab dl diaper #ab dl lifestyle #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #diaper sissy #diaper training #diaper bulge #diaper gal #diapered247

206 notes · View notes

extrajigs · 1 year

Photo

Wanted to expand on some domesticated animals of Mirum. These are basically cat-dog birds, ranging in size from cat to medium sized dog. Still need a name for group over all, suggestions appreciated! In depth info below the cut!

1. The OG This is the wild ancestral form, basically the wolf to the dog. They are from the grass/shrub lands of Mirum and spend most of the year scrounging around for food until the end of the wet season. Once the floods are over they pop out babies like nobodies business while feeding on the debris left by the flooding. By the time fire season rolls around their numbers are pretty scarce. They travel in little groups with multiple hens and one big buff man! But this man does not necessarily need to be a male, or a bird even! They were the first species domesticated by the chimera and the only one to leave Mirum with them. The ‘Natural’ Breeds These are just the morphs bred into these fellas without any magical manipulation involved, so they still look relatively close to their wild ancestors. 2. The Cupid These are purely pets, originally kept just for eggs they lost that purpose as more efficient birds came around for that. Now they just make docile lil lapbirds. Though inattentive owners will find old eggs hidden throughout the house if they’re not careful. Most of the time though they tend to stay by their owners ankles. 3. The Ruff Fluffy lil guys who make for great pest control, they’re a very sporty breed despite everything and need a lot of energy to stop them from destroying their surroundings out of boredom. Will do well with another ruff or dog of similar size, though they can be a bit of a bully in the care of a lax owner. 4. The Gallop Literally just made for running, can keep up with a chimera at full sprint and at a normal long distance run. For those with a more active lifestyle. Though they will just as happily laze around all day, just happy to be included honestly. These are also the best swimmers of the natural breeds with their extra oily coat. 5. The Dome This is a purely ornamental bird, stocky and colorful they are the most relaxed of all the birds. Most prefer chimeric company to that of other birds and have a habit of separation anxiety when not with their owner. In line with that, these are the most accepting of chimeric ‘talk’ with most quickly getting accustomed to projected commands. Though please don’t overwhelm your bird, casting the full range of sentient experience unto lesser beings CAN and WILL cause them existential distress! Not to mention your personality may displace your pet’s. 6. The Fluff The original pillow stuffing. These guys feathers are softer than any other. Keeping a mostly downy ‘undercoat’ for their whole life. That being said these guys can get absolutely RANCID if not kept clean and tidy. Only for the most advanced and attentive of owners unless you want an unholy dingleberry beast skulking around. They also are VERY bitey. 7. Crested These are historically for eating, but have grown to be a very pish posh fancy breed. Most are pure white, thanks to inbreeding, and albeit are not the sharpest tools in the shed. But if you are looking for a bird who may just ignore your commands but love you eternal, this is your bird!

That’s them so far, will make the magical monstrosities later. Also wanted to try a different lineart style. Thin is nice but I miss my chunky brush. Glad to have tried it though!

#mirum #chimera #chimera adjacent really #fantasy #birds #need name aaaah i cant think of a good one for these still tho HM #speculative biology #spec bio #Speculative Evolution #spec evo #art #no true north

502 notes · View notes

pampanope · 7 months

Text

Graves Headcanons from Shadows’ POV (Part 1):

((Or, i wanna share some silly hc in this format in between all the art stuff • 3•))

Every Shadow, from the grizzled Spec Ops operator to the fresh faced civilian, no matter what background or experience, always had Graves as that one topic of gossip they turned to when things got too slow.

It’s become both habit and sport to catalog every detail of their Commander and then discuss their findings in a twisted peer review, preferably with alcohol involved, as if gathering intel on a high value target before the op.

Through the years it had been tradition for Elder Shadows to pass on Graves ‘lore’ to the newest Shadows and encourage them to take up the hobby of Graves Watching (it’s effective observation training, you see…if you happen to catch feelings for the boss, well, it’s par for the course)

There’s a ‘published’ (a fat binder of loose leaf) Graves Manual floating around,(bland cover and backing and with dick doodles all over for extra camouflage, pockets full of photos of the Commander from various angles) on base with multiple entries:

- first notable observation: Graves is fucking pretty. Too pretty (and relatively young) to be head of a band of mercenaries. And he knows he’s pretty (been seen smirking at tongue tied, blushing baby Shadows and civilians alike). Rival PMCs and militaries, on the rare chance SC has to cooperate with them, would ogle in envy as the Commander strutted around and barked orders in his tight preferred BDUs (the Shadows preen with pride at this. Every. Damn. Time)

- Graves is every bit the outspoken Texas stereotype. He’s loud, worships at the alter of Texas Barbecue, an avid Dallas Cowboys fan (staff found a jersey in his closet), had been winning gun competitions since he was old enough to compete (off-hand boast from the man himself) and blasts country music both out of love for the genre and out of sadistic spite (Every cookout. The trick is to get a stealthy Shadow to switch playlists while Graves is busy grilling)

- but he’s also been observed waiting for his Shadows to finish speaking, listening intently with full on eye contact (a bit overwhelming for the newbies). He prefers to workout in the evenings, alone, when everyone else would be in the rec rooms or asleep. He’ll take his tablet up to the roof and work in solitude drafting tedious emails or planning a difficult op. There are days, when nothing of note is scheduled, when he’ll almost retreat into himself and bask in the Company’s presence instead of engage.

- it’s this duality that started the Shadows’ fixation on Graves: a pretty loudmouth with Depth (the Shadows chuckled over this description but it was true dammit)

-the man is tight lipped about his childhood and family; braver Shadows have asked but were diverted to other topics or out right shut down (Note: more data needed on this!)

-his personal quarters are spotless and put together (bed made with sheets tightly tucked in, boots shined and neatly placed, everything in its place), his meeting room where he entertains clients is pristine and posh in furnishings, and yet his work office is an utter disaster, organized chaos is a charitable descriptor.

-the Shadows conclude each room represents a facet of the man; the orderly quarters is habit driven from years as a Marine, the opulent meeting room is the face of a successful CEO he wants to present to the world, and his work room, the one filled with binders, reports, coffee stains, knick knacks from his Shadows, is the realest representation of Graves out of the three, the Graves only they were privy to (high fives were exchanged over this big brain discovery, the Shadow who posited this theory was promptly dog piled)

((More to come, just wanted to vomit out these ✨t h o u g h t s✨))

#new to writing but this was fun!#phillip graves #shadow company #call of duty #mwii #mwiii #thoughts #my stuff

203 notes · View notes

dasozelotvonnebenan · 1 year

Text

1. At what point during the story do they meet up?

Aluen and Posh first meet after joining the Priory, Yorg and Valoop first meet after Valoop joins the Vigil (so at the end of the lvl 50 story). Everyone meets each other at the first round of Claw Island.

2. Which of the 3 orders did each one join?

Posh and Aluen join the Priory, Yorg, Valoop and Ruck join the Vigil and Fenquin joins Whispers.

3. Were they all present for Claw Island?

Yes for both rounds.

4. Did they have different responsibilities in the Pact?

Aluen handles strategy, Ruck handles construction and logistics, Posh handles R&D, Fenquin handles intelligence, Yorg handles PR and recruitment. Valoop is the marshall's unhinged friend.

5. Did all of them, only a few, or just one of them go through the dungeon storylines?

Every dungeon is done by at least one of them, but never all at once. Catacombs are done by Ruck, Caudecus' Manor is done by Fenquin and after that it's the commanders corresponding to the Destiny's Edge members involved.

6. Did they chase after Caithe together or was one/were some on the airship with Trahearne during the start of HoT?

The group is very scattered during HoT. Valoop and Posh aren't along for the initial attack, Yorg gets lost and isn't involved in any of the advance on mordremoth. Aluen is with Trahearne and also get's captured. Ruck is with the Ordnance Corps. Fenquin is on Faren's Flier. Posh and Fenquin both start chasing Caithe with Valoop, but they can't keep up with Valoops new magic crystal wings.

7. Did all of them go into Mordremoth's mind? Did an extra NPC get left out or did two still go?

Only Valoop goes into Mordy's mind, everyone else is outside organizing the MoM battle. (She takes Canach and Caithe with her)

8. Who mercy killed Trahearne?

Valoop :,)

9. Did any of them join the Shining Blade?

Fenquin

10. Which one died to Balthazar?

Valoop >:)

11. Are all of them champions of Aurene?

Only Valoop

12. Which one was shot by Bangar?

Valoop.

13. Who was on the airship that crash landed in Cantha?

Valoop

14. How close are they? What do they think of each other?

Valoop tries very hard to not be friends with people, but the others care about jher very much. Aluen tries very hard to hide from the people she considers friends, but they also still care for her. Yorg Ruck Fenquin and Posh are best buddies.

15. Are any of them Aurene-branded?

None (yet. I might change my mind later, I am considering something like that for Fenquin)

16. How effective are they as a team?

Terrifyingly.

17. Are there any that certain members of Dragon's Watch prefer over the others?

Everyone loves Yorg. Yorg is the best.

18. Do they share responsibility at the same time or do they hand it off as needed?

They're all operating simultaneously.

19. If they weren't the commanders, would they still be friend?

With Yorg probably, he is the best. Posh it would depend heavily on when they'd uncommander. Right after season 1 it would probably only Yorg still around for them.

20. Would they pick their co-commander/s over anyone else? Over Tyria's safety?

They are all agressively self sacrificial. They would die for each other, but they would never let someone die to save another commander. They would fight over who would get to jump on a grenade.

#Commander Valoop #Commander Wurmslayer #Commander Steelforge #Commander Posh #Commander Aluen #Commander Fenquin #Co-mmanders #the smileys on the valoops accurately describe the mood after the event.

7 notes · View notes

the-eclectic-wonderer · 1 month

Text

Yes, of course I have a thing for the rich lady that sets up elaborate games to hunt and eat people for sport. She’s British she’s posh she’s old she’s commanding and she’s morally revolting. How the hell am I supposed not to have a thing for her

#her name is LADY MOWBRAY for fuck’s sake. she ticks all my boxes!!!!!#like literally she’s got an enormous rifle and calls people ‘dearie’ what the hell am I supposed to do #i heard her voice and I was gone #jon sims really is the gift that keeps on giving. first gertrude and now this lady. I’m having the time of my life #thank god mr bonzo isn’t the OIAR’s only hitman lmao #im a bit late but this was a damn good episode! poor alice got extremely traumatised!#this was not a good one for her between the catastrophic flirting failure at the beginning and… that… at the end #and we got to meet luke! something terrible is gonna happen to him isn’t it #obsessed with the fact that gwen has apparently fully embraced her role. she’s got her customer service voice ready and everything #she offered the HUMAN HUNT LADY some REFRESHMENTS like girlie what are you doing #and what are the Cheshire Bouchards?????? you can’t just name-drop that and not elaborate???#overall I feel like the one that comes out of this episode on top is celia. she’s got some serious guts!#standing up to the human hunt lady right after listening to a statement about said human hunt lady? holy shit celia #VERY very good episode overall. i had a blast and lady Mowbray was genuinely scary (I love her already agh)#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 15 #lady mowbray

95 notes · View notes

thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

Text

A Risk Taker (Daemon x Reader)

This is my first time writing something like this which was challenging but very entertaining, also I left a little detail that I really hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think by commenting. Enjoy!

“And right over here we have the iron throne, historians reported that it was created by hot steel and its rightful place was in what we now know as London, over here we have-“

(Y/n) stood dumbfounded at the sight of the throne in a result she tuned out what the woman was saying or explaining. She was in amazement at it, it was entirely made of swords, she came to wonder who came up with the idea of such a thing, who was the first to sit upon it, and who was the last. So many questions raced through her brain as she instinctively took a few steps to approach it.

(Y/n) was always interested in what historians call “the time of dragons” Some say it is just silly little stories or just tales of the church that wished to demonize the time before Christ.

“Miss you can’t touch that”

Before the security guard could stop her (y/n)s fingers grazed over the arm of the chair, goosebumps went over her entire body before she gripped it firmly and then everything went black.

“A witch! Protect the king! Disarm her”

“What?”

Before she could react or comprehend what was going on around her someone forced her hands behind her back earning a grunt from her.

“Ouch you asshole let me go”

“How dare you command anything you Bitch let go! I swear to god if I fucking bruise”

“Ser Criston, the lady is clearly in distress and pain, I believe it is best if you release her”

“Yeah that, manners much?”

Daemon had to refrain from laughing at her odd way of phrasing her thoughts. Everyone was on edge at someone that just simply appeared in front of the king and the iron throne just from thin air, her clothing was something no one had ever seen and her face was painted, Daemon carefully walked up the stairs who was rubbing her wrists to relieve herself from the discomfort.

“It is alright my lady, I am Prince Daemon of house Targaryen and you are?”

(Y/n) looked around the room, everyone was dressed in posh clothing that was decorating the museum hours ago and the man that was standing in front of her was the same person that she saw from the portrait when she walked in, also he resembled a lot the actor that played prince Philip at “the crown”.

“I… am (y/n) of house…. (Y/l/n) I guess”

“There is no such thing as house (y/l/n) she is lying, we must throw her in the dungeons”

“I fucking dare you”

“You will do no such thing Ser Criston, the lady isn’t dangerous, she is just as puzzled as we are, do you remember anything before this my lady?”

“I was visiting the Museum of Old England, I believe you guys call it Westeros”

“What was the year?”

“2023”

“So you mean to tell us all this just turns to…”

“History, books and movies”

“What are movies?”

“How do I explain, there is a machine that captures a scene like this for example and then it plays for an audience, like theatre but not really”

“The girl is in hysteria and probably lying, we cannot believe her words and prophecies stand true”

(Y/n) turned her head to eye the man that was talking, a man in his mid-40s she guessed that was dressed in all green and had a little pin with a golden hand, her eyes lit up at the realization of who this man was, and her mind could not comprehend what was going on yet she desperately wanted to prove herself she was being honest, probably because her life was at risk.

“Otto Hightower”

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh I know a lot about you, you served the king, and has the king already married your daughter Alicent? Or is Aemma still alive?”

Silence fell over everyone, and looks of concern were being exchanged amongst the people, the lady that spoke knew everything about everyone, there was no way she could create the clothing she was wearing or whatever was on her face, could it be that she was actually from the future?

Frantically (y/n) started to search in her pockets for anything until she thankfully found her phone, she held it up in triumph before she pressed the button to open her screen

“There, see! I have pictures of the stuff that you use! Here is a portrait of one of my favorites from your family, Rhaenyra”

“Me?”

(Y/n)s eyes laid upon the young Targaryen, god the casting of her movie did such a great job the actress looked like the girl that was standing in front of her. (Y/n) smiled brightly at the princess before she took an awkward bow to the princess making her stumble on her way up.

“Princess Rhaenyra, an Oh my gosh pleasure to meet you, huge fan by the way, have you married Laenor yet?”

“We are betrothed”

“Well that is surely something ummm, excuse my weird stance but I feel like I will piss on myself from anxiety”

“Mayhaps it would be best if the princess escorted the young lady to one of the chambers, and found something more appropriate for her to wear”

Daemon chimed in, to save the poor lady from embarrassing herself or worst passing out in front of them. (Y/n) who grew self-conscious of her looks rubbed the material of her jeans as she looked down at her outfit, it was pretty stylish for a museum who would have known to dress appropriately for teleporting?

“These are my nice jeans”

“Ladies wear this?”

“Yes Otto they do, ladies also have rights which is a concept you would surely hate”

(Y/n) could feel her heart beat fast at the realization that all eyes are on her, she was someone that no one could vouch for, a girl that just stood there with no background, no title, they could behead her before the sun goes down and then what? Is death the way to go back? Or would she just die and leave everything behind?

She turned to the king to approach him once again, she swallowed the lump in her throat whilst she kneeled in a sign of respect, the instinct of survival had started to make her entire body shake at the fear of the unknown, she must come out of this unharmed.

“King Viserys, I am as shocked as you are still I ask for just some time, I can show you that I speak in all transparency, I can help you, use my knowledge to your advantage until I find a way to go home”

(Y/n) had become King Visery's closest advisor they were a good handful of times that Viserys specifically summoned her, he was always infatuated with dreamers so to have a woman with such power was his biggest asset.

Otto was naturally displeased and somewhat furious at her demeanor, her entire personality was just baffling to him, (y/n) interrupted him whenever he tried to offer his piece of mind to the king, (y/n) had taken away the power he had worked tirelessly to create.

(Y/n) was now lady (y/n), alongside Rhaenyra had to earn a seat at the small council which of course Queen Alicent had as well, (y/n) would of course try to stir Viserys in the right direction however a dilemma stuck in her consciousness like a thorn, she was well aware of how this would go, the dance of dragons, the war that will kick off in a few years, the hatred that was brewing between the greens and blacks, the burden fell on her chest like a pile of bricks, if she were to twist the future would the entire world become something different? Or would she save a thousand lives?

They were times that (y/n) could not have foreseen an event, Rhaenyras tragic wedding feast for example did not quite describe the death of a man, even if it did (y/n) could not have prevented it from occurring mind the fact that she was rather busy, Daemon had asked to have a minute… alone with Lady (y/n).

Daemon was always intrigued by her presence, her sharp tongue, and her reluctance to step back when it comes to an argument, she had the fire of a dragon in her, to Daemon it was evidently clear specifically when she was bare, she had confidence, experience, shameless passion, her touch did not tremble nor did she question herself, she took the reigns from him and showed him how they do it in her time.

“Lady (y/n) can I ask you a question?”

“Of course my prince”

“Father says you know the future, will I get a dragon?”

(Y/n) froze, on the morrow of Laenas funeral what would be the odds for meek Aemond to ask such a question? Today is the grim day that Aemond would lose his eye in a squabble between him and his nephews.

All color drained from (y/n)s face although she desperately attempted to keep her composure in front of an impatient Aemond who was looking up at her with eyes full of hope, all he ever wanted was to fit in, to have what everyone else had, though the cost he must pay was a rather painful one. (Y/n) reached to caress the young prince’s soft cheek and create a circle with her thumb on his soft skin.

“You will, my prince, speaking of such how would you like for us to go for a walk later? I would love to speak to you about it”

“Thank you, lady (y/n), I will be waiting for you”

“Promise me you will wait before you go anywhere”

“I promise”

“Pinky swear?”

“What?”

“It’s a tradition from my childhood, just hook your pinky to mine, like so”

Aemonds pinky intertwined with (y/n)s who was smiling brightly at him, she could not let the poor boy lose his eye over a dumb argument between children, all of the families fought but when you add dragons into the mix it can get messy extremely quick.

“May I ask what is this odd choice of a handshake about?”

“Well Otto it is something from my home, know there is where women can show cleavage and their legs and fathers do not marry their daughters to men that are twice their age”

“Yes you have been rather descriptive of the shameful customs your people hold”

“I know, a woman having an orgasm must be such a baffling concept to you or is it the fact that some of us do not wish to have children and there are actually safe ways of protecting us from conceiving that disgusts you?”

“Hold your tongue in front of the prince”

“You do not command me and you do not scare me, Otto, so I suggest you back off and let me be”

“Lady (y/n), may I have a moment alone with you?”

Daemon interrupted the conversation that was getting quite heated, to be discussing with such temper in public was something that was out of character for Otto but there was just something about her that pushed him beyond himself, to vocally express the urge of sexual desires and taunt it so freely, Parading her flesh like a succubus, no Otto refused to give in.

“Of course, my prince, remember our promise sweetling”

She whispered to Aemond before she raffled his head and winked at him playfully, all of the playfulness was gone when she diverted her eyes to Otto, a frown swiftly appeared as she eyed him from head to toe with utter disgust.

“Asshole”

She hissed making Prince Daemon choke on his laugh from being taken by surprise by her choice of words. (Y/n) walked with Daemon side by side but in utter silence, she just silently followed him waiting for Daemon to let her know what he wished to say in private.

She did as such until they reached the shore, her patience had run thin and her shoes were filled with sand, she just plopped down and took off the shoes to properly feel the sand and enjoyed the sensation of direct contact with nature.

“What is it Daemon, spit it out”

“I thought you would be gone by now”

“So did I but I have yet to figure out the way to go home”

“Perhaps you are not supposed to go home”

“Daemon we have discussed this”

“I left because you send me away, even then I send for you, asked for you and you denied me”

“I had a reason and you were married”

“You send me away”

“Are we going to reminisce about what I did the night we fucked at Laenas funeral?”

Daemon came to a halt at her question. Nobody was more embarrassed by his neediness than him, Daemon was a good-looking man and a prince, he never had any trouble with a lady he yearned for, except (y/n).

After the exceptional time they had together he could still vividly describe how she patted him on the shoulder and told him that she should walk into the feast first so they don’t look suspicious, the coldness in her voice after such a steamy affair left him with countless questions.

Daemon sat next to her and just stared at the horizon, he wanted to hug her, tell her how much he missed her, confess to her exactly the amount of letters he had to send asking about her, (y/n) made him feel weak.

“I wanted to come, I often yearned to relive our moment but I cannot offer what you are craving. I could leave at any time just like a came”

“I have always been a risk taker”

“Your end goal is marriage Daemon, I understand that my age here means I am an old maid but where I grew up I am young, I do not wish to be wed nor have children and you do”

“I have children”

“And I am sure you love them and you love being a father because that is who you are, I am simply not”

“Isn’t this lovely, you have me all figured out”

Daemon spitted with sadness dripping at every word, he could not say that she did not have a point, still, at the end of the day he wanted her, he wanted to burn himself alive in her fire just to feel her warmth.

Daemon got up to leave when he was forced to stop by someone holding him by the wrist, once he looked back to find (y/n) on her feet and had latched her fingers on his wrist.

“Daemon don’t be like this”

“Well, what do you suggest then?”

(Y/n) did not know what to say for the first time in forever, she acted on instinct when she hugged him, her head went on his chest and his heartbeat was picking up at the beat that caused a smile to decorate her lips. Daemon hesitated though he gave in and pulled her tightly.

“This is not fair, you are playing dirty”

“I never had you for a man that is afraid to get in the mud”

They both giggled and (y/n) lifted her head to take a proper look at the prince who was smiling down at her. His index finger and thumb found their way to her chin, after all these years she had frozen in time, still as breathtaking and agitating as he left her.

Daemon was taking too long for her liking so she took initiative and collided her lips to his while being on her toes which did not last long since Daemon was always quick on his feet and pulled her up for her to wrap her legs around his torso, both of them moaned in each other's mouths from the anticipation, Daemon could feel the harsh licks of her fire surrounding him an experience that was so sweet yet deadly.

Daemon made the mistake of laying her on her back which only resorted in (y/n) putting her entire weight on her legs to flip him over in an instant, she never really liked allowing someone to lay on top of her.

Their movements were messy and rushed, and both of them could not contain themselves, they wanted to see one another naked, feel their skin bare as they caressed one another, her moans were animalistic, and the way she moved was like a conqueror that raced into a battle, Daemon was left defenseless and became a mere puppet to her game of sex, he did not complain of course this was what he loved about her, this was (y/n)s favorite part of sex, the feeling of it, the urge of it, the realization that you want someone’s body, that it’s yours for the taking.

Daemon gripped her hips so harshly that he left marks behind, secretly he thought that he was being greedy by being the only one to experience such a show, (y/n) at her natural habitat, what a foolish fantasy, to have an audience in their beddings, he shoved that idea at the very back of his head when it dawned on him that other men would see her naked, would listen to her moans, they would know her magic.

Daemon was utterly unaware that his fantasy was becoming reality at this very moment, both of them blinded by passion to the point that none of them looked around, they focused on each other's eyes, the eyes that whispered everything that was left unsaid between them.

Once their connection came to its very peak (y/n) left her body to lay on top of his as she desperately worked to catch her breath, it was then that a man dressed in green decided to leave the scenery, a man that had spied on them and had frozen to his spot at the sight that had unfolded in front of him had come out of his trance to scatter away before he gets discovered.

“Was it worth waiting all these years?”

“Definitely”

(Y/n) placed another kiss on Daemon's lips at his answer, his strong body was the best bed after such an intense workout, her legs had already started to shake and she imagined this is what it felt like riding a dragon for hours on end.

The world is funny because when (y/n) went to vocalize her thought she heard a dragon approaching, once she fixed her focus on the sky she could see the humungous dragon that was heading back to land, its size was frightening, she could not remember which one was it, it wasn’t syrax and not Vermax, who could be riding at the such hour?

“Someone claimed Vhagar”

“Oh no, oh shit, fuck no”

Requests are open!

633 notes · View notes

eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

Text

i don’t need wings to help me fly, pt. 1

Steve still vividly remembers the day his grandmother had flown in to Indianapolis when he’d turned sixteen years old. He’d never met her before but his constantly-traveling parents weren’t around, so he’d been tasked with airport duty and delivering his grandmother to the best hotel in the city.

His grandmother had turned up her nose and sniffed the minute she’d walked off the plane in head-to-toe pink Chanel.

“Your parents let you live here?” She’d asked in a posh British accent, not a single hair out of place even after an 11 hour flight from Europe.

“Oh, we don’t live in the city,” Steve had told her, smiling and taking her bags from her diamond-encrusted hands. “We live an hour away from here.”

His grandmother had done a double-take at that. “You don’t even live in the city?” She’d sounded so appalled as Steve led her through the airport, her eyes widening as they’d passed the food court and she saw the McDonalds and the Dunkin Donuts. “Is this what you eat here?” She peered at someone’s tray as they’d passed with their Big Mac.

All Steve could do was laugh and accept his grandmother’s invitation to eat dinner with her in her penthouse suite at the hotel, where she’d hired a private chef for her week-long stay in the city. It was actually more of a command than an invitation, anyway.

That night, Steve had laughed as his grandmother had told him he was the Crown Prince of Genovia.

“Shut up,” Steve had laughed, dropping his fork with a clatter on the fancy porcelain of his plate.

“Shut up?” His grandmother had repeated, sounding aghast.

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean, like. Stop pulling my leg. That’s very funny, grandma.”

“I’m not joking, Steven. You are Steven Pierre Harrington Renaldi, Prince of Genovia.”

“Grandma,” Steve had said, still smiling. “I couldn’t even tell you where Genovia is on a map.”

And the rest had, as they say, been history. There had been a few bumps in the road and he’d almost abdicated his throne once or twice, but after spending every summer in Genovia for the past five years, he’d come to love his country and its people. Now, with his twenty-first birthday just one week away, he’s finally moving to Genovia’s Royal Palace full time.

When he’s brought into the palace from the private royal airport, he’s told that his grandmother is in a meeting with representatives from Genovia’s parliament. Since Steve hasn’t been crowned king yet, he’s technically not allowed to sit in on those types of meetings, but when he’d been exploring the palace when he was 17, he’d found a passage that ran directly behind his grandmother’s public state rooms where she met with foreign dignitaries and domestic politicians. After being delivered to his room by palace staff, Steve quickly changed from his airplane clothes and made his way to the passage. As he unlocked the tiny gate that would allow him to see and hear what was happening in the room, he hears his grandmother’s raised voice.

“You cannot possibly be serious!” She says loudly and it’s the first time Steve has ever heard his grandmother come close to yelling. “That piece of legislation is absolutely archaic!”

“Archaic though it may be, it still exists,” the man across from where his grandmother sits says smugly. Steve does not like the condescending way the man looks at his grandmother.

“We’ve never enforced the law before,” his grandmother insists.

“We’ve never needed to,” Prime Minister Motaz concedes reluctantly from Steve’s grandmother’s side. Steve watches as she turns to him in shock.

“And we don’t need to now!” Steve thinks his grandmother might be coming close to slamming her fist down on the table.

“Steven is young. He has no experience,” another voice comes from someplace in the room that Steve can’t see. “It’s not a bad idea to give him as much support as he can possibly have.”

Steve goes hot all over, flushing with indignation. His throat burns. He wants to defend himself, but he’s technically not even supposed to know who’s in this meeting right now.

“And forcing him to marry would be our way of giving him support?” His grandmother sounds incredulous. Steve’s mouth goes dry. Marry? Him? He’d only just graduated college

“No one’s forcing anything,” the smug man across the table from his grandmother says gleefully. “He’s allowed to pick whoever he wants. As it happens, I have the perfect candidate in mind.”

“If you’re talking about your deadbeat, drop out of a son, then this meeting is officially over,” Steve can practically hear the way his grandmother rolls her eyes at the man. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he hears her.

“I’ll have you know that Eddie has returned to school and is currently at the top of his class in the comparative literature program,” the man says haughtily.

“Oh, perfect, his ability to analyze Chaucer will be the perfect addition in running the country to Steve’s expertise in international relations and political science from his accelerated dual masters program,” Steve’s grandmother replies sarcastically.

Steve practically fist pumps in his hiding spot. His grandma is so badass.

“Your Majesty,” the prime minister cuts in reluctantly. “Now that Viscount Mabrey has brought the marriage clause to our attention we have no choice but to bring this to a parliamentary vote. The entire body is meeting tomorrow morning; we’ll cover it then. You are, of course, welcome to attend, but you mustn’t interfere with the vote.” He glances across the table at the smug man who is apparently Viscount Mabrey. “Either of you.”

Steve can tell that the meeting is clearly wrapping up and it’s only a matter of time before his grandmother comes looking for him, so he quickly latches the little window and hurriedly leaves his hiding spot behind. As he’s glancing down at his clothes, brushing dirt and cobwebs from the fabric, he bumps into someone as he rounds the corner of the main hall. The stranger grasps Steve’s elbows, keeping him upright. Steve raises his gaze and meets a set of intense, deeply brown eyes. Pretty, Steve thinks.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the stranger smiles and Steve registers the rest of his face. He takes in the dimples and the long curling dark hair falling around his shoulders. Pretty, Steve thinks again. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No, uh—no worries, my fault,” Steve stammers out, before clearing his throat. “I’m Steve.”

The stranger tilts his head. “Yeah, man, I know.” His smile widens. “I’ll see you around, Prince Steven.” And then, without another word, he continues his way down the hall, in the direction Steve had just come from.

~*~

“I don’t get it,” Steve says to his grandmother, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I spent all this time studying and reading and interning and now they’re telling me I can’t be king unless I’m married? What kind of old-fashioned, ancient law is this?”

“Honestly,” his grandmother replies, “the law, sadly, is not even that old. It was ratified only 75 years ago. I’m not sure why, as it’s never been enforced until now. We’ll have to keep a keen eye on Viscount Mabrey and his no good son, though. They’ve got to be up to something.”

“Who’s his son?” Steve asks.

“Oh, I don’t remember his name. He’s completing a degree at Oxford—though between you and me, he’s dropped out twice already, so who knows about all that,” his grandmother waves a dismissive hand through the air.

“Grandma,” Steve says reproachfully, but even he can’t help but laugh a little. These people are trying to steal his crown, after all.

“Oh, Steven, I wanted your birthday week to be perfect for you,” his grandmother turns to him and grasps both his hands in hers, her eyes glassy. “I know this isn’t what you expected to come home to, but there’s nothing we can do until Parliament casts its vote in the morning. So let’s just focus on your birthday ball tonight, shall we?” She squeezes his hands in hers and then let’s them drop. “I’ve flown Paulo in to help you dress for the night.”

Steve groans. The last time he’d seen Paulo, the stylist had leaked his identity as the long lost prince of Genovia to the press. But he’s so good at what he does, his grandmother had apparently found it in herself to forgive him. And honestly, the leak had been somewhat of a blessing in disguise, one that allowed Steve to embrace both sides of himself: the small-town Indiana boy-next-door and the European royal with the world at his fingertips.

“Time to get ready for your ball, Steven,” his grandmother tells him happily.

~*~

Steve always feels strange when he has to dress up for a big event. He doesn’t hate it, exactly—he actually kind of likes it—but he still feels a little like he’s wearing a costume and he knows occasions like this are going to be even more frequent after his coronation in a month and a half.

Steve makes his way into the ballroom and let’s himself be announced to his guests. The ball has already started and he crosses the dance floor to greet his grandmother.

“Ah, Steven,” she greets him, kissing him on each of his cheeks. “You look beautiful, my darling.”

“Thank you, grandma,” Steve responds, glancing down at his tux. “You look gorgeous as ever, of course.” And she does. Her dark hair is curled and piled on top of her head, artfully arranged around her shining diamond and pearl tiara. Her deep violet gown flares out at the waist and brings out the emerald green of her eyes. She’s stunning and regal, all the things a queen should be. Steve’s going to have a hard time filling her shoes when he’s crowned king.

“Happy birthday, my love,” his grandmother says, hugging him to her. “Go have fun. Dance. Eat cake.” She gently pushes him toward the dance floor and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He wanders over toward the buffet table full of cupcakes and cookies, his giant green and gold birthday cake in the center. His mouth waters slightly just looking at the flowers of spun sugar decorating the top. He knows it’s chocolate with vanilla frosting, his favorite. He’s so intent on getting himself a piece of his birthday cake that he misses the person crossing his path.

Steve bumps directly into a hard body for the second time in one day. He’s usually not this clumsy. A large, ringed hand flies out to grasp his bicep, keeping him upright.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” a familiar deep voice says, laughter lacing the words. Steve stares up into now-familiar deep brown eyes.

“Oh, you—sorry,” Steve replies, smoothing his palms down the front of his tuxedo jacket. The stranger from earlier stands in front of him, wearing black on black on black, polished and pressed and just as beautiful as before. His curly hair is tied in a neat low ponytail and his mouth is curved into a smile, once again showing off the dimples Steve hasn’t stopped thinking about since this afternoon. His eyes are sparkling.

“Not at all,” the stranger shakes his head. “My fault entirely, Prince Steven.”

Steve clears his throat. “You don’t have to keep calling me that. You can call me Steve.” He’s glad he doesn’t stutter this time, his voice coming out smooth and clear, regaining some of his Indiana charm.

“Steve, then,” the stranger’s smile widens.

“And you are?” Steve prompts.

“And I… was just about to ask you to dance,”the stranger says, holding out his hand.

Steve is… completely charmed. Sure, he doesn’t know this man’s name, but he’s beautiful and charismatic and Steve only has a few friends his age here in Genovia, so he takes the stranger’s hand and let’s himself be led out on to the dance floor. The stranger must be in the high ranks of Genovian society to have even scored an invite to tonight’s ball and Steve racks his brain to remember if there were any sons of Parliament members he hadn’t met yet. He doesn’t think so.

Once they’re on the dance floor, Steve’s breath catches as a strong hand circles his waist, another entwining their fingers together. Steve feels himself being twirled around the dance floor and it’s dizzying for more reasons than one. The stranger is captivating, his gaze magnetic.

“Okay,” Steve says after a few minutes of dancing. “You have to tell me your name, man.”

The stranger smiles again. “You can call me Eddie.” The song they’ve been dancing to comes to an end. Eddie raises Steve’s hand to his lips, brushing his mouth across Steve’s knuckles. “I hope we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Steve.” And then he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving Steve dizzy and blushing on the dance floor.

#here have this thing!!!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie au #steddie princess diaries 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #royal!steddie #like please this dynamic is so perfect #sorry if it's shit please don't hate me lololol

350 notes · View notes

thedirtygridd · 1 year

Text

THE SECRET ON THE YACHT…WITH LECLERC, GASLY AND YOU

WARNINGS - 18+, strong sexual content

Summary - You are invited on the private yacht with Charles and Pierre again, which can only mean one thing….everything is about to get wild. And this time, they have a dirty surprise for you.

“What have you two got planned for me this time?” You asked suspiciously as they led you into the posh yacht bathroom. Your bare feet slowly stepped on the cold marble floor. Pierre and Leclerc both guiding you with each hand

You had been here before…you knew what the yacht meant to Charles and Pierre. It was their chance to take attractive girls away from the paparazzi and have some fun. You had got wild last time you stepped foot on this yacht. Orgys, threesomes, foursomes. You had done them all with these two horny boys. But what was next?

Both Charles and Pierre were topless. Their beautiful bodies glistened in the bathroom lights. They had been sunbathing all day, so their muscly back, abs, chest and arms were all smothered with hot, slimy oil. It made them look even sexier. You bit your lip at the sight of them both. Charles cleanly shaved all over, looking smooth as a baby and Pierre looking hairy, almost animalistic. You noticed the oil dripping in between his chest hairs. Or maybe it was sweat from the sun? Regardless of what it was, you wanted to taste it.

Before the boys took you fully into the large bathroom. Pierre placed a blindfold over your eyes.

“You wait here baby�� he added, while slowly kissing on your neck.

As he did it, you noticed a draft of a mixture of his sweaty musk , and the smell of sweet aftershave hit your nose. He was definitely sweaty. You loved it when he got sweaty. Your taste buds salivated at the smell. You wanted more.

But now you couldn’t see. You stood there, in your tight lingerie (that they had both requested for you to wear) and stood there wondering what the hell was going on!

You heard the boys chatting in French, which you couldn’t understand, and noticed them moving around the room.

“Okay baby…we hope you like this, it’s taken a while but…” Charles didn’t finish before Pierre interrupted

“She’s gonna fucking love it” he added

One of them gently grabbed your hand , you thought maybe it was Charles, because you could feel his finger rings touch your skin. He brought you over to an object

“Lift your leg up and step in” he commanded

You hesitated for a second, and then lifted your leg. You noticed Pierre grab your other hand to help with your balance, and at the same time he smothered his wet tongue over your neck. His mouth was ridiculously wet, almost like he had been saving up his saliva to spread on you.

You stepped into what felt like a bath tub, one foot at a time. As you lowered your delicate feet, you noticed you were stepping into something that didn’t feel much like oil.

“What is this? Haha” you asked the boys, as Pierre continued to suck on your neck.

You found it hard not to groan with the pleasure Pierre was providing you with. The bristles of his beard tickling and scratching your skin, at the same time as his tongue salivating all over your neck, and occasionally the feeling of him sucking on you. He was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Kneel down” spoke Charles

“But what is this bath filled up with?” You asked

Whatever it was, it felt warm, and very gooey. It was thicker than water, and thicker than oil too. It felt almost like syrup, but had a strange smell to it. You couldn’t quite make out what it could be.

“We’ll take your blindfold off once you have knelt down” Charles added

And so you did. You knelt down into the bath, which was filled with something you couldn’t quite work out. Whatever it may be, it felt really quite sexy in your skin. You felt it soak into your lingerie as you knelt into it

Your hands brushed your legs and smothered the warm fluid over your lower body.

“Now let’s have some fun” Pierre said while whipping off the blindfold.

The first thing you saw in front of you was Pierre standing fully naked, with his hand stroking his hard , and now fully wet cock.

Charles was standing just to the side, and doing the same. The size of their cocks always took you by surprise. How could a man be so Perfect in every way?

And then you looked down…and that’s when you realised

“Wait…is … is this?”

“Mhm yeah it is…..” Pierre said excitedly as he stroked his cock even harder

You didn’t even get to finish before Charles revealed “it’s cum”

Before he added “it’s both our cum…we’ve been saving it up in this bathtub. So many wanks later, we have managed to fill it up for you”

You were shocked. The bathtub was literally full of cum. Almost to the brim…

“this must’ve taken ages to fill up” you asked

“Not with us. We’re horny guys” Pierre added

“Now fucking suck me off and let me add to it” he replied

You took Pierre’s cock inside your mouth. The feeling of him pulsate inside you, and the feeling of both of their warm Cum smothering your body, turning you on to crazy levels.

“Oh…and I forgot to add” Pierre started saying before adding “I fucked my girlfriend earlier today, and still haven’t washed”

As he said it, he pushed himself further into your mouth, gagging you on his cock. The taste of his salty pre-cum, and the taste of his girlfriend filled your mouth.

“If only his girlfriend knew how much Pierre slept around” you thought.

He would go around fucking as many fit girls as he could, he didn’t care. And now you had him in your mouth.

At the same time, you felt Charles enter the bath

His body quickly getting covered by their own cum as well.

Before you could turn to him, Pierre grabbed your face and kept you sucking him off, and Charles pushed your ass out of the cum, and began to fuck you from behind.

He used the cum as lube, and slid his hard cock into your hole. As he did, he slipped a couple of his fingers inside your ass.

You now had all your holes filled. Your mouth, your pussy, and your ass. All filled up by sexy men.

Was this heaven? You asked yourself, as Charles thrusted even harder inside you.

The movement of him fucking you causing the cum in the bath to slosh around all over you both.

“Fuck you don’t get all the fun, Charles!!” Shouted Pierre, almost like he was jealous.

Pierre jumped into the bath himself, allowing you to breathe again briefly, before he smothered his cock in cum with his thick fingers, and then shoved it back in your mouth.

As this was happening, Charles and Pierre both leant in over you in the middle, and began making out.

You could hear the loud, and juicy kissing noises as they smothered each others mouths with their tongues.

They would both collect cum up with their fingers and spread it over each others faces, before licking it up again.

Pierre and Charles both getting cum stuck in their stubble. Their jawlines looking ridiculously sharp with hot, milky cum smothered all over it

“Shit, fuck me now” Pierre shouted to Charles.

Charles pulled out of you, and positioned himself on Pierre. He slipped his cum covered cock into Pierre’s ass, and began fucking him. As he did this, Charles pushed your head below him and got you to lick his own ass. You rimmed him out as he thrust his cock inside Pierre. The noises both of them were making were incredible.

The groans were so loud you wondered if people onshore would hear you. Pierre almost crying at the pleasure he was feeling from his good friend charles, and you couldn’t help but groan at the taste and feeling of rolling Charles out.

You couldn’t help but notice how sexy they both looked as they fucked. Both of their body’s smothered in cum…the room getting all steamy and sweaty with the amount of exercise going on.

Charles pulled out of Pierre, as if he was ready to explode…”Get in the middle” Charles added

So you did. You sat in the middle of them both as they turned and jerked their cocks pointing at you

Charles then grabbed Pierre’s cock, and his own, and jerked them together with one hand. Both of their wet cocks sliding against one another. The friction of the movement making them both cum.

You had never seen two cocks simultaneously cum together, while being stroked together.

As they released their loads, some of Charles’ splattered up onto Pierre’s hairy abs, and some of Pierre’s splattered up onto Charles’ smooth abs. But the majority of it dropped off their veiny cocks and into your mouth.

The taste and texture of what these boys produced would never get old for you.

Once they finished, they both lay down in the bath, and you in the middle. Both boys sitting opposite one another, and you interlocked between their muscly legs.

As you all lay and caught your breath, you glided your hands up and down both of their legs. Feeling the muscle, which felt even better submerged in cum.

“Fuck…I’m staying in here a bit longer, what about you?” Pierre asked

You all laughed and took your time to enjoy the moment.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #formula one #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly imagine #hot muscles #hotguys #yacht #x reader #fanfic #fantasy men

664 notes · View notes