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50shadesofrossi · 2 years

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Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child.

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it.

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear.

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms.

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit.

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes.

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground.

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out.

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen.

A dragon.

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment.

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt.

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred.

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him.

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer.

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be."

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did."

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same."

"Princess," he tries again.

"Breakbones."

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns.

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra.

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up.

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel."

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent."

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-"

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child.

"Ser Criston Cole."

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea."

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn.

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen.

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago.

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning.

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it."

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt."

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you.

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword.

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking.

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you.

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No."

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced.

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury.

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?"

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you.

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front.

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second.

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more.

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself.

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him.

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?"

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it.

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him.

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth.

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer.

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you.

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers.

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart.

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it.

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today.

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave.

She doesn't.

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?"

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures."

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it."

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back.

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry."

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me."

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?"

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him."

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities.

"Are you going to listen to father?"

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think."

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies.

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over.

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control.

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep.

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities.

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes.

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson.

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions.

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid.

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness.

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe."

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion.

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him.

"My stupidity?" He repeats.

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant."

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms."

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?"

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him.

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere.

"Shit." He curses.

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up.

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes.

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours.

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation.

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face.

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling.

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips.

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are.

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head.

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more.

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features.

"I know."

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop.

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower.

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out.

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology."

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk.

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself.

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice.

"Taking a walk,"

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells.

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?"

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin.

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will."

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No."

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me."

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding.

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you.

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions.

You can't.

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels.

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep.

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son.

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?"

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you.

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?"

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you."

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content."

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest.

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow.

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body.

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard.

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance.

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap.

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you.

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath.

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state.

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire.

"Go to bed, Princess."

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward.

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty."

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?"

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband."

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take."

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him.

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion.

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers.

But your status halts him.

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other.

Painstakingly obvious.

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly.

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively.

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind.

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me."

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess."

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage.

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught.

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release.

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?"

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel.

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it.

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat.

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off.

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips.

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him.

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly.

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this.

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump.

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over.

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert."

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man.

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs.

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead.

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you.

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out.

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white.

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you.

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free.

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high.

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is.

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles.

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour."

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in.

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing.

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch.

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in.

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders.

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open.

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with.

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug.

That will be for later.

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach.

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact.

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm.

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips.

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm.

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind.

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it."

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words.

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore.

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning.

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you.

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am."

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole.

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for.

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it.

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you.

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist.

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls.

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions.

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't,"

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it."

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again.

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time.

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh.

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls.

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess."

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable.

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra.

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you.

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache.

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty.

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival.

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer.

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch.

It's the only way you know to protect yourself.

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess.

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did.

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros.

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors.

"No." You answer plainly.

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are.

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing."

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours.

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown.

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind.

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care.

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin.

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect.

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine.

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best.

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind.

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you.

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers.

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you.

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull.

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you.

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them.

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate.

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself. You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance.

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you.

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name.

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges.

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you.

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't.

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace.

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything."

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?"

"What do you want me to say?" He grits.

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?"

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog."

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?"

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you.

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences."

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?"

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged,"

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-"

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me."

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand.

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely.

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight.

"If I may, Princess?"

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave.

You feel sick.

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant.

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence.

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance.

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building.

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand."

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words.

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter."

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!"

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors."

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done.

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel,"

"A trait that runs in the family."

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine.

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies.

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do.

"I'm in love with you."

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff.

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night."

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me,"

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?"

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy.

"What do you know of being a whore?"

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you."

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer.

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping.

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly.

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality.

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions.

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you.

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you.

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself.

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me."

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands."

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is.

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him.

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have.

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you.

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you.

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you.

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you.

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth.

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you.

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting.

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax.

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head.

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone.

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him.

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me."

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties."

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes.

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity.

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch.

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him.

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last."

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair.

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?"

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine."

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself."

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth."

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward.

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue."

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his.

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure.

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers.

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon.

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over.

You wonder if the same applies to him.

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters.

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth.

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you.

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you.

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself.

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?"

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to.

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps.

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours."

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

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#ser harwin x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x reader #hotd #ser harwin strong #ryan corr #harwin strong imagine

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atlabeth · 9 months

Text

bad luck - nikolai lantsov

summary: you have little hope after being captured by slavers in the depths of ravka. but then your ship is commandeered, and you get a little more than you bargained for with your privateer savior.

a/n: sorry that it has been a while since ive posted anything on here and sorry about my neglect for my other series but i am a nikolai lover first a writer second and a person third!!! apparently i cannot write a normal length one shot with this man but i hope you enjoy

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, sturmhond!nikolai, reader is captured by slavers but there is no detail, mentions of fighting and killing, mentions of arranged marriages, reader is highkey annoyed by sturmhond lmao, but a fluffy (and lowkey steamy) ending

At first, you’d thought you were hallucinating.

You couldn’t remember the last time your captors had given you, given anyone in the brig, water, and the beginning of a spiral into insanity wouldn’t have exactly surprised you.

Explosions, gunshots, the screams of dying men. You’d imagined the entire crew dropping dead many times so it wasn’t a shock that this was where your madness would begin. You just closed your eyes, tried to pretend you weren’t in chains, and reveled in the sound.

And then the door to the brig was broken down, and your eyes shot open. You moved to the front of your cell, gripping the cold bars as you looked to see what sort of new danger had been brought upon you.

Instead, you were met with a cocky-looking man—though he hardly appeared old enough to be called a man—a pistol in his relaxed grip and another hanging by his side. His bright teal frock coat didn’t belong in a dingy place such as this.

“Hello, all,” he said pleasantly. “I am happy to say this ship has been commandeered.”

Your grip slackened. “What?”

Your question was drowned out by immediate rioting by all the other prisoners, and the man glanced at the woman by his side. She took one of her two axes from its place at her hip and walked over to your cell. Her golden eyes gleamed, and her axe moved in a barely visible flash. She’d chopped the lock clean off, and the cell door creaked open. The whole brig had fallen silent.

You took another step back, eyes still wide. The man walked up next to her, peering inside your cell at all the prisoners bunched in together, but when his eyes met yours, they widened. His entire body went rigid for a moment, so imperceptible that you thought you’d imagined it when he looked away.

“I have no desire to keep you all here against your will,” he said. “Call me your liberator, call me your savior, call me a captain who just hates slavers—it doesn’t matter to me right now. The only thing that matters to me right now is that this is my ship.”

“Are we free?” you asked.

Again, the captain’s expression changed ever so slightly when he looked at you—this time, you knew you hadn’t imagined it.

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile. “You’re free.”

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, and the chains around your wrists felt lighter knowing they would be off soon.

The captain cleared his throat as he turned away, looking at the rest of the prisoners. “Now, do any of you know where they keep the keys on this ship? If we can’t find them, Tamar here will use those handy axes on your shackles.”

Someone spoke up and the captain sent one of his men off to retrieve them, then he looked at the golden-eyed woman. Shu, no doubt. “Tamar, get the rest of these cells open then bring them above deck. I’d like to make a speech.”

She nodded and got to work. Soon enough, you were breathing in salty air and reveling in the wind on your face. You’d been below deck for far too long, and the feeling of sunlight on your skin was glorious. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and just enjoy it. Your mind blocked out the spilled blood and dead bodies of the crew that you had to walk through. You wouldn’t shed any tears for them, but you weren’t accustomed to the brutality that your parents sheltered you from.

“I’d like to introduce myself to you all.” You opened your eyes and the captain was speaking, standing in front of the orderly line you’d all formed. The Shu woman from before—Tamar, he called her—stood at his left, and a similarly golden-eyed man had just joined them. Between his size and her axes, you were quite thankful they were—at least for now—on your side.

“You can call me Sturmhond,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me, perhaps you haven’t. I don’t particularly care. As you likely saw, each and every man and woman previously aboard this ship is dead, in case you doubted my promises to your freedom. That is what I care about.”

The thought would have normally made bile rise in your throat. You may not have been accustomed, but you liked to believe you weren’t wholly naive.

“But I want to be clear,” the captain said, “this is not a rescue. This is an opportunity.”

Sturmhond gestured with his head and a woman stepped forward, lithe with wispy hair divided into two braids. She moved her hands apart and concentrated, and with a few concise movements, the cuffs around your wrists broke apart and fell to the ground. Your eyes widened, and the exacerbated clatter made you glance down the line, same as some of the others—she removed everyone’s shackles at once.

Sturmhond kept company with Grisha. You knew the captain was Ravkan from his accent, but any connection to the Grand Palace and the King sent unease trickling down your spine. The chances were small, what with how much time Grisha spent in the Little Palace—Saints, the Fabrikator might not even be Ravkan—but there was still a chance. The last thing you needed was to be recognized.

“We didn’t really need the keys,” Sturmhond said with a boyish smile. Again, you were struck by how out of place he looked—he should have been in university, not heading operations like this. “I just wanted to make you all squirm a little. Tamar’s axes are quite terrifying.”

“Who says we want any part of your opportunities?” asked a man from down the line.

“Because I’m allowing you the choice,” the captain said. “Those of you who wish to be free of the sea and her constraints, we are by the Zemeni border. You will be dropped at the nearest harbor, and your fate will be back in your control.”

There were grumblings throughout your fellow prisoners and you glanced at them. It was a better offer than any of you would have gotten, a chance for freedom that you thought was long past you. Novyi Zem had no grief with Ravka, so you would be safe enough there. You could get a job working the fields or in a factory, and once you had enough you could book passage back to Ravka. You could find your family again.

Your throat tightened. You ran from them—that was why you were here in the first place. Maybe it would be better to try and start a new life all together, nameless in Novyi Zem. No one would ask questions, you were sure of it. You would be in control of your fate again.

And then the captain got a glint in his eye. Your spine straightened almost on instinct.

“As for those of you who want revenge,” he tilted his head, “you can earn a place in my crew.”

“Why would we work for you?” a woman from across the brig shouted. “We’ve got our freedom!”

“Because there is little more satisfying than causing the destruction of those who tried to destroy you,” Sturmhond said. “And because the sea is rather lovely when you’re not a captive.”

“That is my opportunity to you all.” He clasped his hands together, the wind ruffling his red hair. “A chance to help those like you, and put slavers at the bottom of the ocean where they belong.”

“Why would we want to work with pirates?” you spoke up. “We have lives to get back to. And half of us aren’t fighters.”

You didn’t know what it was about you that made Sturmhond’s expression shift just so each time he looked at you, but it was beginning to irk you.

“Privateer, actually,” he corrected. His voice was annoyingly smooth, and his unyielding confidence even more irritating. “As I said, it’s your choice. And it will take us three days to reach Novyi Zem, so you will have time to decide.”

You huffed a laugh, but decided to stay silent. You’d dealt with too many men like him, but it wasn’t a bother—in three days, you would be back in the same position you were in before your bad luck struck.

“Now,” the captain said with an equally smooth smile, folding his hands behind his back, “any questions?”

Nobody spoke up. Whether it was out of fear or simple ambivalence you didn’t know, but you didn’t feel like getting on the captain’s bad side. You planned to keep your head down for three days and figure it all out in Novyi Zem.

“Wonderful. We’ll divide our forces between this ship and the Volkvolny,” he said. “Any of you who wish to transfer ships will be allowed.” His lip curled as he looked around the dingy conditions of the slaver ship. “I doubt you want to spend much more time on board this wreck.”

“Some of my crew will get you situated as we prepare to set sail,” Sturmhond continued. “If you find you have any burning questions later, save them or direct them to Tolya here.” He gestured to the Shu man as tall as a tree standing by him, and he only looked slightly irritated to be given up like that.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is officially welcome you aboard.” Sturmhond swept an arm through the air. “I hope you’ve all earned your sea legs.”

He walked off, Tolya and Tamar following him. They must’ve been his first mates—you were immensely glad they weren’t against you, what with his size and her axes.

But as he did, you couldn’t help but stare. The strangest feeling had come over you during his speech, one that was exacerbated every time he passed the slightest glance at you, every time his expression changed. He was just… unnatural. Unsettling.

You allowed yourself a deep breath and shook your head, trying to focus on the crewmember that was speaking to you all. You didn’t care if he was unnatural or unsettling—you would be gone in three days.

All you had to do was keep your head down.

Sleep wasn’t easy after the day you’d had, but your tired limbs won out after an hour or so of staring at the ceiling. The cot you’d been assigned wasn’t much for comfort, but it might as well have been the plushest mattress you’d ever felt after what you’d been sleeping on before.

You slowly opened your eyes, your grogginess fighting against you at every step, because you had the dimmest feeling that something was wrong. When you saw golden eyes above you, you nearly screamed.

You thankfully held it in, but you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

“Sturmhond wishes to speak to you,” Tamar said, wholly unfazed as if she did this all the time. She probably did.

“Why?”

“My job isn’t to ask questions,” Tamar said. She left it at that, and you sighed as you pulled yourself out of the hammock. You followed her, squinting in an attempt not to bump into anything in the darkness. The Volkvolny wasn’t familiar to you yet, but it was easier once you were above deck. You rubbed the grogginess out of your eyes when she opened the door to the captain’s quarters for you.

She didn’t follow you in, and you didn’t know whether it was a relief or not.

“Ah. You’re here.” Sturmhond turned around from a cabinet, holding a bottle of kvas, a slight smile on his lips. “Drink?”

“You didn’t just invite me here for a nightcap,” you said placidly, “did you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I thought it would remind you of home.”

You frowned. “You’re Ravkan. Who’s to say I am too?”

“How did you know I was Ravkan?”

“Your accent.”

“Then how do you think I knew you were Ravkan?”

“Maybe I will need a drink,” you said bitterly. “It’s the only way I think I can keep dealing with you.”

Sturmhond sighed as he poured a fair amount into two cups. “Such harsh words for a noble girl. Quite a stroke of bad luck for the daughter of a duke to end up on a slaver’s ship.”

“Who’s to say I’m the daughter of a duke?” you asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to keep playing this game?”

You crossed your arms in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“An accent gives quite a bit away,” Sturmhond said. “It’s also obvious to anyone that looks at you—and I assume you have quite a few admirers. You speak Ravkan like a princess, like you were taught in schools rather than the streets. You have a gleam in your eye that says you still have hope. And,” he looked you up and down, “you carry yourself with confidence despite your position. Not the attitude of a girl on the other side of the ditch.”

Your lip curled. “How astute of you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Born and raised in Os Alta,” you acquiesced. You offered a thin smile of your own back. “And I suppose you’re correct. Bad luck seems to follow me as of late.”

“You wound me,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you claiming that my rescuing you is a continuation of your bad luck?”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, captain.”

“Sturmhond,” he said.

Your lips twitched in a momentary smile. “I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, Sturmhond.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, taking a sip of kvas, “it’s an opportunity. I’m just curious of what drove your choice.”

You crossed your arms. “Strange of a pirate to be so curious about a prisoner.”

“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected, “and you’re no longer a prisoner.”

“My point still stands,” you said wryly.

“Is it wrong of me to be curious?” he asked.

“It’s pointless,” you said. “And if you’re done with your little interrogation, I’d like to get back to sleep.”

“I’m not here to be your enemy.” He sat up, taking another sip of his drink. “Surely you understand that.”

“I understand it perfectly well,” you said. “I just don’t see why you care.”

“Fine,” he amended, “I’ll let you be. Just one more question.” Sturmhond sat up in his chair, leaning forward as he looked you straight in the eye. His were the strangest shade of green. “Why did you run?”

You actually recoiled at his question, your reflex winning over any desire to hold back your emotions. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t waver. “I thought my question was quite clear.”

You picked up the cup he’d poured for you and threw it back. The kvas burned your throat—your tolerance never was all that—but it didn’t make much difference with the scowl already on your face.

“You don’t get to ask me questions, pirate.”

“Privateer,” you heard him correct, and it only made you slam the door harder on your way out.

Three days of keeping your head down should have been easy. Sturmhond, however, appeared to have a different agenda.

He ignored you for the entire next day, but that night, Tamar was waiting for you before you could even get to the barracks.

“Seriously?” you asked. “Did he not get my message clearly enough last night?”

She shrugged. “He just asked to see you again. I don’t know why.”

You sighed and made an offhanded gesture. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You opened the door yourself this time when she got you there, not even bothering to shut it as you stared at Sturmhond.

“What are you playing at?” you demanded.

“Good evening to you as well,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“What are you playing at,” you repeated flatly.

“I’m not playing at anything,” he said. “Is it a crime to enjoy your company?”

Your jaw ticked, and your hands clenched into fists. “If you’re after what I—”

“I’m not after anything,” he assured with a frown, “and certainly not what you’re thinking.”

His interruption peeved you, but you found that you actually believed him. The tension eased from your shoulders ever so slightly.

“…Good,” you said after a moment. “But I still don’t understand the need for these meetings. I plan to be gone by tomorrow.”

“Because I know you,” he said. “You may not know me, but I consider myself generally knowledgeable of Ravka and its upper class.”

“What,” you said wryly, “do you want my advice on how best to rob them?”

“Of course not,” Sturmhond said. “I wouldn’t need your advice for that.”

You huffed a laugh. “So what do you want?”

“I’ve been at sea for quite some time,” he said, “and you’ve only just left Ravka. I’d very much appreciate it if you could share some of your insider knowledge on the Lantsovs.”

“You assume I have any.”

“I assume that the woman who used to be Nikolai Lantsov’s betrothed would have some,” Sturmhond replied smoothly.

Your heart stuttered for a beat at the mention of Nikolai. Any doubt Sturmhond might have had over his claim had to have dissolved with your expression.

He arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

You allowed yourself a deep breath before you finally took the seat across from him.

“Fine,” you said. “You’ve got me. I’m the daughter of a Ravkan duke and I used to be engaged to a Lantsov prince. Did you just want to prove your knowledge?”

“Not at all.” Sturmhond wisely poured an additional glass—brandy rather than kvas, thankfully. You needed something stronger if you were to deal with this. “I want your knowledge.”

“My being betrothed to Nikolai is why I don’t know as much as you think,” you said. You downed half the glass at once and your chest burned less than the memory. “Nikolai and I were to be wed when we were of age, yes, but he disappeared before I got the chance.”

“Disappeared?”

You nodded. “He was meant to come back after his service so we could prepare for the wedding. Instead,” your lips curled in a disdainful smile, “he up and left. The king broke off our engagement and I haven’t heard a word from Nikolai since.”

Sturmhond frowned. “My deepest apologies.”

You shrugged. “He made his choice. Apparently he’s in Ketterdam studying, but I very much doubt that. He was never good at sitting still. But wherever he is, I hope he’s still alive.” You huffed a laugh. “I cannot imagine Vasily taking the throne.”

“I’m sure he is still alive,” Sturmhond said. “And I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.”

“How kind of you,” you said dryly.

He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You say you plan to be gone by tomorrow. Does your plan include returning to Ravka?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I ran from my family and my fate, and that’s why I ended up here. I don’t think I can go back just yet.”

“And what fate did you run from?” Sturmhond asked.

“A marriage I didn’t want,” you said plainly.

“As opposed to the marriage you did want.”

“Are we done here?” you asked. “Because I don’t think you need to know more of my personal life.”

Sturmhond smiled after a moment and nodded. “Yes. But I’d like to see you one more time tomorrow, before we officially part ways.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” you said.

“And I don’t intend to. There’s just one last thing I wish to share with you.”

“And you can’t do that now?” you asked wryly.

“Patience is a virtue, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He held up his hands. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You’re very strange for a pirate,” you said.

“I’m quite normal for a privateer,” Sturmhond said.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as you stood. “Enjoy the rest of your night, privateer.”

You felt his eyes on you as you left, and now more than ever you couldn’t shake that feeling. You looked at Tamar as you shut the door.

“How long have you been part of his crew?”

“A few years,” she said.

“Do you ever get used to him?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “No.”

You sighed as the two of you started to walk. “What a surprise.”

You were at Sturmhond’s door the next afternoon, Tamar by your side. She hadn’t come to deliver you, but on your way there she told you she would be joining you. You certainly weren’t going to refuse her.

As usual, you didn’t bother to knock. As usual, Sturmhond was sitting at his desk. Tamar followed you in and shut the door, not as usual. Your brows knit together slightly.

“You actually came,” he said.

“Consider me intrigued,” you said. “I couldn’t just walk off and never know what you wanted to ‘share with me’.”

The corner of his mouth curled up into an achingly familiar smile. “You’re just as fiery as I remember.”

“We just met,” you said dryly.

“On the contrary.” Sturmhond sat up, and he removed his jacket. A metal pin glinted on his vest, a crowned double eagle. The Lantsov coat of arms. Your frown deepened. “You spent the other day describing our lost time together.”

“I’m…” you blinked and shook your head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m Nikolai Lantsov,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me say all my titles, though.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. And then you laughed in complete disbelief.

“Is that what this is? You consider me a fool?”

“On the contrary,” he repeated. “It is because of your intelligence that I deigned to reveal myself.” He offered a wry smile. “And because you don’t hate me the way you should.”

“You cannot just say something so absurd and expect to believe it,” you said. “Anyone can rummage up a coat of arms. I have not heard and or received a single word from Nikolai, and now I am supposed to believe that he is right in front of me?”

“It sounds absurd when you put it like that,” Sturmhond said with a frown.

“Because it is absurd,” you enunciated. “I actually thank you for this, because now I know I’m making the correct choice. You may be a good captain, but you are a complete blackguard.”

You turned and offered a tight smile to Tamar. “Please move. I’d like to leave.”

“He speaks the truth,” Tamar said. “I promise you. He’s Nikolai Lantsov. My brother tailored him into Sturmhond at the beginning of all this, when we joined his crew. ”

You paused and looked back at the pirate claiming to be the man you loved. “What?”

“Nikolai Lantsov is much more valuable as a hostage on the seas,” he said. “No one spares a second glance at Sturmhond.”

“Then change him back,” you said, looking back at Tamar. “Get your brother and make him change him back if you want even the slightest chance of me believing these lies.”

“They are not lies,” she insisted. “And I’m not the best tailor.”

“You’re both Grisha,” you said flatly.

“Heartrenders,” Sturmhond (Nikolai?) supplied. “My most trusted crew. Come on, Tamar— I believe in you. Work your magic.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to him, and though your immediate instinct was to take the exit you’d been given, you crossed your arms and waited as she did her work. It didn’t take long for his muddy green eyes to change to hazel, his red hair to blonde. A slightly less broken nose.

He… he looked like the Nikolai you knew. It was staggering to just be standing across from him—or at least a mirror image of him—after so long apart. Older, more weathered, but with the same glint in his eye. The same glint that you looked forward to with each day, the glint that you remembered when you didn’t have him anymore.

“That doesn’t mean much,” you finally said, glancing away. “If you can tailor him into Sturmhond, surely you can tailor him into a Lantsov.”

“You overestimate my tailoring abilities,” Tamar said dryly.

“I still don’t trust it,” you said, and you started again for the door.

“When we were seven, I convinced you to sneak out of our etiquette lessons and go down to the river,” he suddenly said. Your hand froze on the door. “You scraped yourself on a particularly sharp rock while we were traversing the waters—you still have the scar on your ankle.”

You turned around. “How do you know that?”

“My father held a party and your family attended,” he continued. “We were ten and it was the most boring night possible. We evaded our parents’ attention and snuck off to the kitchens.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many pastries in my life.”

A smile of your own, almost subconscious, began to form on your lips. You hadn’t thought of that party in years.

“And when I was fifteen, the year before I enlisted, I did the worst thing I could have done to your father.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I took one of his prized swords and did all sorts of moves trying to impress you—I only managed to dent it and get banned from your home for months.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you murmured.

“And…” he sighed and opened his drawer, rummaging around for a moment. He held a ring between his fingers when he emerged, and your heart stopped beating for a second. “I still have this.”

Your hand was shaking when you reached beneath your collar and took hold of the string around your neck. You pulled it into view, and the ring hanging on the bottom glinted in the light.

Your engagement rings still matched perfectly.

Nikolai’s smile was bright as you remembered as the realization hit. “And you still have yours.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was a lot of work to keep it in my possession.”

“I’m glad you went through it, then.”

“It really is you,” you whispered, letting your makeshift necklace fall back against your skin. “I— I just don’t understand. Why are you here? Why are you playing pretend as a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrected. He glanced over at Tamar, still holding her post. “Could you give us a moment alone?”

She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. The room felt smaller with just you and Nikolai in it, with the man you were meant to marry who left you in the past.

“I do this because I can do much more to help Ravka from the seas as Sturmhond than gallivanting around court as a second son—a bastard son at that. My parents appreciate Sturmhond much more than they would Prince Nikolai.”

“I appreciated Prince Nikolai,” you said. “I appreciated just Nikolai. You could have at least sent a letter.”

“I know,” Nikolai said. To his credit, he did look mournful. “If there is one thing I regret about all of this, it is how I left you. I said what I said the other day because it’s true—I have not forgotten you. I never did.”

“Then why go through all of this with me?” you asked. “Why annoy me into spending time with you?”

“Because I’ve always been quite good at annoying you,” Nikolai said wryly, then his expression sobered. “And because… I didn’t know how you would feel about me after all this time. Everything you said yesterday was true—I did leave you, and I haven’t said a word to you since. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me, and if you did, I didn’t want to force myself back into your life.” He managed another small smile. “Fortunately for me, you did not hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Nikolai,” you murmured. “I— I loved you. For a long time, and I think I still might.”

“Even more fortunate for me,” he said softly.

“So why didn’t you come back?” you asked.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still cut in a military style. “You talked about how you despised your parents for forcing you into a marriage at such a young age. I didn’t want to force you into a life with me. If I had known you—” he chuckled, a boyish smile on his lips— “if I had known you loved me, I don’t know if Sturmhond would have ever come into fruition.”

“You are the reason I was here,” you said. “My parents thought they struck gold when the king agreed to a marriage between us. I thought I had struck gold as well, in you—a marriage my parents wanted couldn’t have been all bad if you were meant to be my husband. But you left that in the dust, and they still wanted a husband for me.”

“A marriage you didn’t want,” he echoed, his eyes soft.

You nodded. “They did all the work behind the scenes—I was going to meet him on our wedding day, some Kerch banker’s son. And I just… couldn’t face a life like that. So I ran. And with all the luck in the world—” you gestured lazily— “I ended up here.”

“Then I suppose it’s only fair that I ended up rescuing you,” Nikolai said.

“I thought this wasn’t a rescue,” you said wryly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. It’s still an opportunity— one I think you’ll like much more.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I plan to go back and take the throne someday,” Nikolai said, moving around his desk to be closer to you. “But I don’t want to miss another moment with you, not now. So until then,” he took your hand, encasing it between his own, and the warmth it provided was something you’d sorely missed, “will you do me the honor of sailing by my side?”

“I’m not a sailor,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“I can teach you,” he said eagerly. “I can teach you everything I know until you’re a better privateer than me. And you can teach me everything I’ve missed while being at sea—all the noble things I ought to know for when I return home.”

Your lips quirked in a smile, hardly able to contain the giddiness bursting in your chest. Your life went from destruction at the hands of slavers to renewal with Nikolai Lantsov by your side once more.

“How can I refuse?”

Nikolai grinned, and he tugged on your intertwined hands to pull you into a kiss. It wasn’t the first one you’d shared, but it was surely the best. It felt like a promise of something new—the promise that he wouldn’t let you go like he did before.

You were breathless when you pulled away, and the sight of Nikolai, blonde hair slightly ruffled because of you, his lips slightly red because of you, made you kiss him even harder the second time.

Your back hit the side of his desk and Nikolai was practically on top of you, seven years of lost love pouring through him all at once.

“And if it wasn’t clear,” Nikolai murmured between kisses, “I never stopped loving you for one moment.”

You groaned and pulled him even closer, your hands clenched tight around the fabric of his jacket. “You wear too many clothes.”

“Then fix it.” His voice was sultry in your ear and you didn’t know how you went seven years without him.

You were very thankful that he asked Tamar to leave.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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froggibus · 8 months

Text

Redtribution - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Jason seeks justice for you after you get assaulted

CW: assault, semi-implied SA, murder, trauma, recovery, jason murders your abuser, angst, panic attack(s), hurt/comfort, soft! jason, everyone lowkey justifying murder, mentions of Under The Red Hood, lmk if i missed anything!!)

this is so fucking self indulgent but i do not even care rn. probably not officially back to writing yet but ill ease back into it in the next month or so. i spent an hour looking up the meaning of flowers before I posted this. anyways enjoy lol

————

It’s nearly five in the morning when Jason is stumbling through the doors of Wayne manor, trying to wipe the blood drops off of his jacket. He kicks off his boots and starts to head upstairs, hoping no one will see him before he gets the chance to shower and change. He’d usually go to his apartment on nights like these but he just got new flooring and bloodstains don’t go with his decor.

He’s careful walking up the stairs, staying on the balls of his feet to not make any noise. The manor is dark and oddly empty, everyone else asleep or about to return from their nighttime activities. He enjoys the silence, though. It makes it easier for him to blend in and sneak around.

He makes it upstairs without being seen and says a silent prayer as he walks down the hallway. The floorboards upstairs have a bad habit of creaking and he lives in a house with the most vigilant people in Gotham. A sound to his right has him stopping dead in his tracks.

He slows his breathing, keeping his focus entirely on the sounds around him. The usual spinning fans and light snoring, but something else on top of that. Crying? It’s hard to tell, so Jason shuffles closer to the door he thinks it’s coming from.

Hard, breathless sobbing meets his ears. It’s somewhat muffled through the door and he can’t quite make out who it is. His first thought is Damian, but given the hour and the fact it’s a school night, he’s sure the brat wouldn’t dare make this much noise even if he was awake. Plus, he’s not even sure if the bastard can cry.

Jason squints. So who’s crying in there? He counts the doors in the hallway in his head, trying to remember who usually slept where. It wouldn’t be Dick or Tim, or even Steph or Cass. So that leaves…y/n?

His stomach drops. What are you doing up at this hour? What are you even doing in the manor? You usually stayed in your own place, trying to pursue a normal life.

He knocks gently at the door, but you say nothing on the other side. He sighs and gently pushes it open. You’re curled up in a ball in your bed, head almost pressed into your knees, shaking violently. The sight of you makes his heart ache.

“Y/n,” he tries to keep his voice gentle to be less imposing, which he supposes is a stupid idea given he’s covered in blood.

You don’t say anything, you don’t even look up at him. He walks towards you, letting the floorboards creak under his feet to alert you to his presence. He makes it to your side, kneeling at the side of the bed. He doesn’t dare touch you right now.

“Y/n, it’s Jason…is everything okay?”

You look up for just a second, letting him see your red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. You relax at the sight of him despite the tears in your eyes before going back to sobbing again.

He can’t remember a single time in all the time that he’s known you that he’s seen you like this. You’ve always had a softer heart than the rest of them, you’ve always been the best of them. You don’t deserve this.

He tries to think back to anything recently that you mentioned, anything that could’ve made you feel this way, but he draws blanks. Were you dating someone? Did something happen at school? His blood runs cold—did someone hurt you?

“Did something happen?”

He hears a slight knock at the door and his head snaps up, his gaze meeting Dick’s. Dick gestures for him to leave the room, Jason giving a slight nod to you in response. Dick raises his eyebrows and gestures once again.

“Hang in there,” he says quietly before slipping out of your room to see what he wants.

He closes the door behind him with a click, following Dick down to the Batcave. Neither of them dare speak until they’re beneath the mansion and far enough away that you couldn’t possibly hear them.

“What’s going on?”

Dick sighs, “there was an…incident tonight.”

“What? What kind of incident? Did someone hurt y/n?” Rage grows in the pit of Jason’s stomach, threatening to boil over.

“Yes,” Bruce’s gruff voice cuts in.

Jason doesn’t even care that he’s still wearing his bloodstained clothes. He doesn’t care about anything other than you right now.

“What happened?”

“We don’t know details, all we know is what we were told and what we caught on security cameras.” Dick looks angry, a jarring sight for him. “Y/n was assaulted last night.”

Just like that, the rage bubbles over and Jason sees red. “Did we find the person who did it? Are they fucking dead yet or do I have to do it myself?”

He’s not even aware that he’s yelling, barely conscious of the words he’s saying. Not you, anyone but you. You did nothing to deserve this.

Bruce interrupts his spiralling. “We’re not killing anyone, Jason.”

“They can’t just get away with this!”

“They won’t,” Dick says in that stupid mediator voice that Jason has always hated. “They’ll go to prison and face the justice system.”

But Jason can tell from his eyes that Dick doesn’t believe that either.

“And what about y/n? They’re just supposed to live with the fact that this—this fucking abomination lives in the same city as us? What happens when they get released? What do we do then?”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll get y/n into therapy, okay? We will figure this out. But no one is killing anyone.”

Jason shares a split second look with Dick before barreling his way through them and heading back upstairs. “This is bullshit.”

He hears Bruce sigh behind him but he doesn’t care.

—

It’s three days later when Jason returns to the manor. He’s clean this time, dressed in fresh street clothes that aren’t bloodstained. He has a tote draped over one arm and a bouquet wrapped in brown paper in the other. He’s relieved when only Alfred seems to be in the mansion, sitting at the dining room table drinking tea.

“Good afternoon, Jason.” He glances at the flowers, “would you like me to prepare a vase?”

He nods. “That would be great.”

He stands by for a minute, watching the butler drink his tea. Alfred raises an eyebrow, not even glancing at the boy. “Y/n is in their room.”

“Thanks.”

Jason is nervous going up the stairs. He hasn’t seen you since that night when you were crying so hard you couldn’t breathe. He wanted to come back immediately, but he thought some breathing room would do you good. Plus, he had some business to take care of.

He stands outside your door for a minute before knocking gently. He waits patiently, hearing you shuffle softly to the door. When it swings open, that dull pain in his heart returns.

You’re dressed in a pair of pyjama pants and a Gotham PD shirt that most definitely belonged to Dick at some point. Your eyes are puffy but you don’t seem to be crying. Well, that’s a good sign.

“Jason,” you say softly, “you’re back.”

He gives you a half smile. He wasn’t sure if you would remember that he was even here, but you seemed almost pleased at his presence.

“Can we talk for a bit?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah.”

You let him into the room, going to sit in the corner of your bed. You tuck your chin in between your knees and Jason can’t help but notice how vulnerable you look.

“Door open or closed?”

It’s a simple question, but your shoulders come down from your ears and your jaw unclenches. “Open, please.”

He nods and swings the door fully open, going to sit on your desk chair. He sets his tote bag on your desk.

“These are for you,” he holds the bouquet of flowers out.

Your eyes light up at the black eyed susans and babies breath. You grab the bouquet from his hands and bring it up to your nose to smell them. The sweet aroma calms you.

“Thank you.”

He nods, leaning back in the chair. “How’ve you been?”

“Do you want the real answer?”

When Jason nods, you hesitate. You know out of everyone in the manor, he would be the most understanding of your feelings. He’s never been one to judge. But telling him everything you’ve been feeling is almost too much.

“I’m really angry.” You admit.

He stares at you, pretty blue eyes filled with nothing but understanding.

“Angry at everything, too. But I’m also scared and—and really paranoid. And I just wish—” you take a deep breath, “I don’t know.”

“There is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling right now,” he looks at you seriously. “And I mean nothing. Don’t be ashamed of any of the thoughts you’re having.”

“I want him dead,” you say suddenly.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as soon as the words leave your mouth. All you’ve heard lately is how he’ll face the justice system and live a shitty life because of what he did. But that doesn’t feel like justice to you.

“He doesn’t deserve to live.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. His words shouldn’t stun you, but they do. He’s the only one who seems to understand what you’re feeling, what you need.

“Bruce keeps saying he’ll go to prison and to trust the system but I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe knowing he’s living in Gotham. And what am I supposed to do then? Move? It’s not fair to me, Jason. It’s not fucking fair.”

He sighs, “you know how Bruce is. He doesn’t understand that there’s more than one way to achieve justice and peace. He’s scared of the darker stuff.”

You nod, tilting your head back to try and blink away your tears before they fall. You’ve known Bruce since you were barely a teenager, and you know far too well that the allure of darkness is too great for him to ever dabble in it.

“Believe me,” he says quietly. “When I heard about what happened, I wanted to kill that piece of shit. Hell, even Dick wanted to kill him.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

He hesitates before he says “no.”

“Oh,” you say, the tears finally falling down your cheeks.

You thought if anyone could understand, if anyone would agree with you, it would be Jason. You thought you were on the same side, but clearly you’re wrong.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay.”

“I-I thought you understood,” you sob out. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel okay again, not if he’s still alive.”

Jason’s own voice echoes in his head. But why? Why on God’s earth is he still alive? He sees so much of himself in you. So much anger and bitterness and resentment. And he knew what he needed when he was in that spot.

He reaches into his bag to pull out his phone. “I’m going to show you something, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Jason shuffles back until he’s sitting right next to you, giving you time to move away if you need to. He holds up his phone, the screen displaying a news article from early this morning.

‘Local Man Found Dead From Multiple Gunshot Wounds. Possible Gang Violence?’

Jason takes the phone away before you can see any pictures, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans. He looks at you carefully, thoughts racing. He’s not sure how you’ll react.

The shock hits you first, and then the relief. “Is that—is that really…?”

You can’t bring yourself to say it. Instead, you look up at Jason with those vulnerable, tear filled eyes. The joy he feels at that spark of hope in your eyes could last him a lifetime.

“Yeah,” he swallows hard. “Yeah, it is.”

You practically pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You can’t remember the last time you hugged him but you realize now that it’s been way too long. Jason squeezes you against him, the familiar scent of your hair calming every nerve in his body.

“Thank you,” you sob. “Oh my god, thank you.”

Jason gently rubs your back, nodding into your shoulder. He can’t help but tear up too.

You pull away, a shocked expression on your face. “I—I thought I would feel all better if he died but….”

“I know. But it’s going to take some time and that is okay. And now he’s fucking dead and he’ll never hurt you again. Okay?”

You burst into tears again and collapse into his arms. Jason holds you tightly to his chest, mumbling reassurance into your ear. You don’t feel completely better, but you feel safe, and for now, that’s more than enough.

—

It’s later that night when Jason sees Bruce again.

He doesn’t feel the nerves he usually does. He knows he’s seen the news by now and figured out it’s him, but he could care less what the man thinks. He tries to mind his business and avoid the wrath he’s so used to.

Everyone told him the same thing. That he did the right thing, that he did what no one else could. Even Dick had given him a giant hug, much to Jason’s annoyance.

“Jason.”

He freezes at the familiar raspy voice, spinning on his heel to face his adoptive father.

Bruce nods and places a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd angst #jason todd hurt/comfort #red hood angst #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood #hurt/comfort #angst #batfam #batfam x reader

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angelsnkisses · 9 months

Text

thinking about dark!jack <3

💟 nsfw - mdni 💟

A/N: i tried to resist but.. well, you know me. this is my first time trying something like this, i'm kinda nervous 😭. (i did make it relatively tame, since i don't have much experience with it!)

warnings: dark!softdom!jack, sub!gn!reader, (briefly implied fem anatomy, sorry!!) overstimulation, unprotected sex, degrading/mocking, use of safe word, lowkey ignoring safeword, dubcon (?), creampie

• he's so unfair the whole time he fucks you.. like, you'd be a sobbing, overstimulated mess, begging him for mercy as he pounds into you so roughly :(.

"aw, you need a break? don't wanna cum anymore?"

• he'll have your legs around his waist, one hand keeping your wrists above your head while the other holds your hip, pinning you down and rocking into you hard. there'd be a sticky, white ring around his base from you cumming over and over again, which only drives him even further past the point of reason.

• he'll talk you through it (but that doesn't mean he's equitable in any way, he makes sure you understand that he's in charge). whenever you start whining and insisting you need a break, he's all sweet and lovey towards you, voice dripping with honey while he reassures your deluged mind.

"you can take it, look how well you're doing for me."

"just a couple more, yeah? there you go.."

• this man has insane stamina, he'll cum inside you over and over and still manage to keep fucking you. it takes a whole lot to get jack to tap out, which he hasn't ever done so far. it's always you who has to croak out the safeword.

• he stops when you use it.. but he's not immediately cleaning you up and asking you what he can do for you. no, jack just looks down at you, pouting his lower lip and slowing his thrusts down to a snails pace. he'll ignore your meek pleads and attempts to get your wrists free, the hand on your hip snaking up to your face to cradle it gently.

"it's too much for you, hm? feels too good?"

• he'll mock pity at your nod in agreement, smiling sympathetically when you give him those red, teary puppy eyes and start sniffling quietly. he'll wipe the tears away from your heated cheeks and press a kiss to your nose, resting his forehead on yours to start cooing at you.

"you can do it, doll, i know you like it.. just gotta relax, mm?"

"you're making me feel so good.. you wanna make me feel good, don't you?"

• and of course you do :(.

• he has a way of.. persuading you. he knows just how to get into your pretty little head, and as much as he should feel guilty, he doesn't. he wants you all to himself, and he has no problem doing whatever he can to keep you. he craves your dependence on him, as twisted and toxic as it seems.

• the day you told him you couldn't get off without him anymore, he lost his fucking mind. he had never fucked you so hard, spewing out praises and filthy comments the whole time. he was over the moon about the effect he had on you, and he made it real obvious the entire time.

"i bet you thought about this, hm? touching yourself, pretending it was me, trying to cum so bad."

• he'll probably make you finish anywhere from four to six times before he's satisfied, finally pulling out of your abused hole with his eyes pinned to what he's doing. why? because he just has to get an eyeful of all the cum that spills out of you, making a huge mess on your bed (i hope you laid a towel out).

• he completely fucks you out on the regular, like genuinely pray for your legs.. and your spine.

• he's honestly so genuine during aftercare, especially after he's real rough with you. he'll help you wobble over the bathroom to get you all cleaned up, pressing kisses to your warm skin and mumbling quiet praises the whole time.

A/N: i'm so sorry for this 😭 it's been rotting in the back of my mind and i needed to write it down before i started going insane. hope you enjoyed though, happy scrolling <3.

#dead dove do not eat #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #culkin cult #jack thurlow #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow smut #jack goes home #angelsnkisses #mdni

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b00tyliciousbabe · 2 months

Note

hey i don’t know if you’re taking requests but if so can you write a bottom male reader x himbo Jordan Riki where they’re fucking at home after the game and Jordan is horny as fuck and wants to celebrate the win?

thank you so much :)

THIS EATS SO HARD! omds i love this. and of course, imma try my best to write. ENJOY!

update: my apologies to whoever sent me this request, life’s just been lifin’ - STREAM SUBMISSIVE BY DESTIN CONRAD!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙

trophy

jordan riki x male reader

summary: for jord’ you’re the only prize worth playing for.

notes: AHHH! my first request. lowkey kinda exciting, but i went way off on a tangent. nonetheless…still spicy xx

song rec: ‘lite’ by downtown kayoto

a few minutes passed as you admiringly watched him pop champagne for the celebratory pictures. ‘Y/N!’ a young woman screamed. you turned back to see it was sienna, who was going out, with jordan’s best friend, jock. ‘omds! i ain’t seen you in forever, how’ve you been?’ hugging her, you match the excitable energy her smile expressed. it was so nice having someone who understood the pressure of being with a sportsman and how demanding it was. the championship was being held in scotland and thus, the NRL had paid for the entire team to stay in the most beautiful hotel. on the walk back, you and sienna spoke about your plans for the future, mostly on the topic of marriage. ‘i hear congratulations are in order, i am so happy for you and jock!’ you smile at her ‘took him long enough,’ sienna joked as she flashed the engagement ring. ‘i cannot wait, plus as my man of honour, we need to start prepping real soon.’ she says going into bridezilla mode already. ‘trust it’s gonna be the best day ever.’ you sigh stopping in your tracks, ‘what’s wrong, Y/N?’ sienna expresses concern. ‘I’ve just been thinking a lot about how my relationship with jordan,’ you start to tear. ‘sometimes i feel like he will only ever see me as his teenage crush, and not something more.’ you finally admitted and it was like a weight off of your chest. ‘Y/N, i completely understand, but jordan is obsessed with you, he’s always telling me and jock about how he’s just waiting for the right time to pop the question.’ her words were so comforting, and left you with a calming sentiment.

you made your way up to the hotel room, and as you opened the door, you were greeted with roses on the floor. you looked up to see the chiselled figure of your man lying naked on the bed and shimmering in the moonlight. ‘jordan, what is all this?’ you asked, stunned by his grand gesture. ‘i couldn’t celebrate knowing that i left my boy on his own’ he got up and began to undress you. towering above you, he lifted your chin to place a sloppy kiss on your lips. you’d never seen him like this before, dominant with his touch and so submissive with his heart. you pulled off your baggy jeans with one swift move, as you knelt down wearing a vest and boxers.

‘such an eager slut aren’t you,’ he spits into your mouth as you look up at him with bright eyes. ‘careful now,’ you whispered, teasing the underside of his cock with the tip of your tongue ‘i don’t have to suck you off.’ to which jordan snickered at your attempt to manipulate. without warning he shoved his dick inside your mouth. ‘ahhh,’ he breathed ‘much better.’ your lips felt so warm around him and he always appreciated how you were always there to use as his own. he began thrusting deeply, as the percussion of his balls slapping your chin made a beautiful symphony of pleasure alongside your gagging and slobbering on his rod. ‘fuck you look so pretty.’ He groaned ‘I could marry you rn.’ a request he subconsciously muttered under his breath. this sentiment was not lost on you and you stopped to deepthroat him fully, suctioning at the this base of his large dick. ‘SHIIIIIIIIIIIT.’ he grunted, holding your curls in adoration. jordan pulled you off him as you giggled with pride watching how he was entranced by the slick you painted on his pole.

you rise onto your feet, staring up into his eyes. wrapping your arms around his broad neck as he placed light spanks on your ass, kneading your dough with his big, coarse hands. jordan invaded your mouth, using his tongue to fast himself on your lips. his fingers spread your thick cheeks apart as he circled around your taint. ‘jump baby.’ he said deeply as his passion overcame him. you obliged as he placed you lovingly on your back, the bed of rose petals adorned your skin, making this erotic painting all the more romantic. your bf climbed onto you and raised your legs above your head. like a jigsaw, you molded them to fit onto his shoulders, with jordan’s piece knocking at your entrance. your pussy lips puckered at the prospect of getting wrecked, making it easy for him to slip in. ‘jord…’ you moan at how full you felt, signalling to him that he needed to go slowly. ‘easy baby, let me know if it’s too much.’ he reassures, adjusting himself inside you slipping in the last couple of inches. ‘I’m all in now love, I’m gonna go faster okay?’ He kisses your neck as you stroke his biceps.

he bowed his head into the crook of your neck, rutting into you viciously as you cradled his head. ‘fuck babe, fuuuck.’ you both scream ‘marry me…’ he mutters again, you clearly heard it this time. he continues pounding your pussy as his breathing gets deeper. ‘marry me already…’ slipped out as he moaned in ecstasy. ‘fuck yes, I’ll marry you babe,’ you matched his energy as he stopped in his tracks. he stared at you like a lost puppy. ‘shitttt, it wasn’t meant to be like this, i had a whole thing planned afterwards, we were gonna go on a walk, i was gonna go down on one knee and-‘ you cut your man off with a kiss that reminded you of the early days of your relationship. ‘I love you jordan, it doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, but i will never stop loving you.’ he started tearing up. ‘Y/N how am i the one crying when it’s you that ain’t gonna be walking for the next week?’ he joked to lighten up the mood. ‘aw babe,’ you whined, kissing him once more ‘if it makes you feel better, i can erase what you said from my memory?’ he smiled into yet another tongue dance ‘nah, don’t even worry about it sweetheart, imma fuck u so dumb you don’t even be able to remember your name.’ he threatened, pressing on your abdomen to feel how deep he was inside of you. his dick twitched as your slick hole was doing so well cockwarming him.

by the end of the night, he had dumped his load into 4 times, and while you laid on his chest, he couldn’t stop thinking about his win. not just the game or player of the season, but how he had won your heart. so while you were asleep , somehow so tired to the point you’d completely forgotten his proposal, he looked up at the ceiling and dreamt about your wedding.

@gayaristocrat dacre is up next ml <3 what typa scenario are we thinking?

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male x male #male bottom #jordan riki

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kaicubus · 11 months

Note

I saw your requests were open, and if they still are, could I request a fluff alphabet with the Hantengu clones? I really love your work btw, keep it up!

Fluff Alphabet | Hantengu clones

warnings ✩° : fluff, dating a somewhat nice demon, mentions of killing other people, me cursing, besides that, cute things!

pairing ✩° : hantengu clones x fem!reader some gn!reader

authors note ✩° : YEAH BABYYYYY thank you for your request succubabe!! this was actually lowkey hard to write bc theyre supposed to be meanies but i thought id do it anyways,,

A = Affection (how they show their love for you)

Sekido is silent in the way he loves, so he's all about acts of service! He'll do things for you without you asking him too, mostly because he likes order and hates anything that goes out of line. So if he can help it, he's doing it for you.

Karaku is big on words of affirmation. He loves telling you how much you mean to him, how beautiful you are etc. Your insecurity is his biggest rival, so he's always telling you sweet things to fight it.

Aizetsu really won't admit it, but he loves physical touch. Whether it's holding your hand when you go places or touching your foot with his under the table, if he can touch you, he's happy. With other people he HATES it, but with you, it's ok.

Urogi adores quality time. It doesn't even matter what you two are doing, if he's with you, he wouldn't be anywhere else in the world. He does, however, prefer flights with either you on his back or in his arms.

B = Beauty (what they like most about you)

It's hard to say what Sekido loves most about you because he's never going to openly admit it, but he actually really likes your collarbone. It’s very specific but if you’re wearing a shirt or dress that lays just below your collarbone, he’s going to be looking at it for the entire time it’s exposed.

With Karaku, it'd be difficult to find just one thing he loves about you. To choose one though, he'd pick any beauty mark you have on your face. Whether it’s a birth mark, scar, freckles, moles, anything, he thinks it makes you so unique and special and loves kissing it especially after he kisses your lips first.

Aizetsu really admires the back of your neck. He thinks that it’s so elegant when you brush your hair and move your hair to the side or when you tie your hair up and he can see a little bit of your neck. As soon as he sees it, he’s practically entranced by anything you do after.

Urogi cannot get enough of your stomach. He swears by the fact that the stomach is the softest part of any human, so when he has you within reach, he always has an arm around it or a claw. Your size doesn’t matter to him, if you have a bit of your stomach exposed or lift your shirt up enough for him to see the smallest sliver of ski, he smashes his head into you.

C = Comfort (what they find most comforting about you)

What Sekido likes most about you is how responsible you are. It really takes loads off his shoulders when he knows he can trust you with his entire self, and he doesn't have to drag you by a leash or something.

Karaku finds everything about you comforting: the way you look, the way you feel, the way you taste, what's inside of you, pretty much everything. But for the most part, he loves how you go to him when you're stressed. It makes him feel like he's worth something and doing something right.

Your ability to calm Aizetsu down is something he never takes for granted. When he's crying or really upset, you don't judge him, instead you always lay his head on your lap and pat him lightly, humming a song or talking softly to him. That kindness either prompts more tears or gets him to close his eyes and get some rest.

Urogi really likes how caring you are to tend to his needs. After a good flight, he's always very dirty and has leaves all over him, so you always take it upon yourself to brush his wings out and braid his hair. As soon as you touch either, his head falls forward and he passes out.

D = Domestic (how would they be in a domestic life with you) (i'm doing a non-demon au like in the actual manga for this one!)

Sekido's a wealthy businessman in charge working to support you and your family at home. At work he's very stressed and yells at everybody to get in line a lot, but at home he's your clueless husband struggling on the correct way to hold your newborn child. He's also the chef of the house and does most of the house work because, "you can't do it right," but really he wants to do it so you don't have to.

Karaku loves cooking with you. It's probably his favorite activity when he gets to make stews or curry simply because he loves seeing your face when you're able to try his cooking. He has a notepad for your favorite recipes and makes them for you when you don't have a good day to lift your spirits. Because of his culinary skills, your baby has grown quite picky and even turns their head when their mushed baby carrots don't have proper seasoning.

Aizetsu spends most of his time with you and your baby, and sometimes he puts in way more than he should. You have to remind him that your baby needs a nap and Aizetsu will hold onto them harder and refuse until you pry them away from him. After your baby's down for a nap, Aizetsu won't leave their side until they wake up. Often times you find the two fast asleep and you have to put a blanket over them so they don't catch a code.

Being already well off in terms on money, you and Urogi spend your domestic life traveling overseas, flying everywhere by plane or by cruise. Sight seeings are a musts, but sometimes you can't keep up with his high spirited self, seeing as he's always dragging you along. He also likes posing your baby in silly looking positions (usually with hats or sunglasses way too big for their face) and posting pictures to social media to your family and friends.

E = Early Mornings (bed head? tired? fully awake?)

ROUGH. When Sekido sleeps, he's tossing and turning left and right, so it's only reasonable why his hair is so fucked up in the morning. He gets mad trying to brush it out and breaks the handle before you even have a chance to go at it. But he likes when you brush his hair afterwards.

Karaku is like so angelicwhen he sleeps. Pretty boy privileges. He always has his arm around you since he sleeps with you on his chest, but for some reason you're not tangled up at all. He's also the most calm so he isn't an aggressive sleeper and he wakes up rather restfully and gently.

Aizetsu is the softest when it comes to waking up. He's so depressed in the mornings though because, "It's just another meaningless day to waste time doing nothing," and always offers to sleep in. You protest, but he always wins in the end and you two sleep for an extra 4 hours. After looking at the clock you're always so shocked that you slept in so late and throw a pillow in his face.

Before you can even wake up, Urogi is already wide awake and on top of you. He'd be like a cat sitting on your chest putting their whole weight on you. His eyes are always fully open just waiting for you to wake up. It's honestly kind of creepy.

F = Fights (how often do you guys fight?)

Sekido is the type of guy to fight with often...he gets so mad over the smallest things, doesn't listen, doesn't communicate, just gets really mad. On some occasions, he'll silently apologize and hit his head onto your shoulder as his way of saying 'I'm sorry.'

Rarely ever with Karaku, he's always looking for ways to please you, so if you try and start a fight with him, he shuts it down immediately.

Aizetsu would never fight with you, he'd only ever present himself as insecure if you're with other guys and sort of mask his worry with straight up self defeating thoughts. He'll suggest that you're cheating on him and it takes a while for you to deny it and him to accept it.

Urogi has no thoughts. Fighting isn't a huge deal because within seconds, he'll forget and go back to being blissfully happy. Yay!

G = Gratitude (how grateful are they for you)

On a scale on 1-10 of how much Sekido's grateful for you, he's at about a 5. He has things other than you he needs to focus on, but he likes having you around.

Karaku is extremely grateful you came into his life when you did. He's taken such a liking to you, he can't imagine what it'd be like without you. It was weird having a human by a demon's side but he got used to it really quickly.

Although things don't change much on the surface level for Aizetsu when you two are together, deep down there are wounds that begin to heal once he sees how much you care for him.

You've taught Urogi different, interesting ways of living life, of course he's going to be grateful for you. He's even more happy with you by his side, so he's constantly showing you affection and telling you how much he loves you.

H = Hugs (are they a hugger?)

NO. Sekido is NOT a hugger. If you try and hug him he'll storm off, but he'll do with a peck on the cheek or even a kiss. He much rather prefers giving you a pat on the head or slap on your ass. All in good fun of course.

100% yes. Karaku loves hugs, but not the excited kind or the side hug kind. He likes the type of hug where he's able to scoop you in his arms and stay there for a minimum of at least 5 minutes, gently holding you and bringing you up to his body where his face can rest comfortably in your shoulder.

Aizetsu's not that fond of hugging, but he thinks it's acceptable if you're the one giving them out. He's not a hugger, but he likes the way you smell when you hug him.

Urogi is the type of person to run up to you and wrapping his arms and legs around your body at full speed, having full trust that you'll support his weight. He'd literally kill for hugs with you.

I = Inspiration (does being with you change them?)

Being with you changes Sekido in the best way it can. Obviously, he's a rage demon, constantly consumed with anger and hatred, but in some cases you are better for him than he leads you to believe. There are times where you're able to calm him down, and times where you can't.

I would say when he's with you, Karaku is inspired to be better. He wants to be more than enough for you, so he'll change to work on things that allow him to do that.

Sadly, not really. With Aizetsu, it's hard getting out of his constant depressive state, so he's always going to feel the feelings he has towards life and living in general. You make his days brighter, but he's still morbidly depressed.

Urogi learns to see things in new lights and take on different challenges when he's with you. He's much much more upbeat, if that's even possible, and laughs way more because he has someone he enjoys being around.

J = Jealousy (how jealous they get)

10/10. If Sekido sees you with someone else, he gets engulfed with rage. Not only does he actively harm the person, killing them in multiple instances, but he also ignores you afterwards. How dare you talk to someone else?

3/10. Karaku is eerily calm when it comes to these sorts of things, but it's not because he trusts the other person, but rather he trusts you won't be stupid enough to cheat on him.

9/10. If Aizetsu sees you with another person, he assumes the worst. He'll get so overwhelmed with self hate and doubt that he'll start crying from afar and fall over. It gets you to stop talking to the person to check on him, so I guess a win is a win. But he's very broken after that.

4/10. Urogi doesn't get jealous as much as he gets protective. He's not smart enough to pick up on social cues to tell if the person is flirting, but he knows that anyone is a threat to either your life or love, so he always has a protective wing against you.

K = Kisses (where and how many?)

Sekido doesn't do PDA, but his pent up rage is helped by kissing you in private. He likes giving you kisses on your neck and forehead as a symbol of his power over you, but also because they're sweet spots he likes the most.

Karaku's kisses are plentiful, seemingly never ending, and mostly on your lips. They're the softest part of your face, and the sweetest, so he's always kissing you.

Aizetsu kisses you mostly on your shoulder and back, especially when you don't have a shirt on, he snuggles up behind you and just pecks all over your skin. He's very light with it too.

Urogi full on attacks you with kisses. You don't even know when it's going to happen because even he doesn't know that. He just suddenly stops everything and rushes at you, usually holding your face in one place with his claws and just kissing you all over.

L = Little Things (what are some little things they do?)

Sekido pinches your cheek when he gets mad at you. He's quick to anger, but he tries to avoid yelling at you all he can. So when he gets mad at something you did, instead of yelling, he pulls on your cheek and plays with your face to both calm himself and not lose his sanity with you while you laugh at the tickling feeling.

Karaku loves finding new ways to get you to tell him, "I love you." Whether that's through teasing you or asking you repeatedly, he gets needy when you don't tell him you love him and starts poking around to get you to say it.

Aizetsu's picked up on the habit of humming songs when he's upset. It's a good indicator of when he's stressed out or sad, but he also just does it a lot and he's gotten really good at it. He'll stare off into space or something while holding you and start humming, combing through your hair or rubbing your cheek.

Urogi will bring you things. They're mostly little gifts he's found on his adventures that he picks up because they remind him of you. He'll find colorful stones, metal knickknacks left behind from other humans, and sometimes strings of beads.

M = Marriage proposal (how it would go about) (in a more modern au maybe)

Sekido would not be formal at all. What would happen would be him springing the question upon you one day, maybe at a restaurant or walking back home from one, and in the middle of his conversation will ask you, "Do you want to get married?" With a completely straight, serious face. Inside, he's fighting demons, looking at your confused and flustered face.

Karaku would definitely pull some elaborate event, maybe reliving the first time you two met or went on your first date and talking to everyone around to make sure they stay and bear witness to what's about to go down. He doesn't want to make it too flashy, but there's a calmly lit place, with flowers and all.

Poor Aizetsu would overthink everything about it. He'll have doubts he's not worthy enough to propose to you, or that the ring is too small, or how weird it's going to be having people stare at him. In the end, he pulls through and is very soft spoken, so he has to repeat himself a little louder the second time.

Urogi would practically say it with his face. You already have a feeling he's going to propose but it's even more obvious when he can't stop looking at you or smiling, giving cheesy hints at the possibility of him pulling out a ring from his pocket. When he's about to ask, you're pretty worked up from all the waiting and answer before he can get the whole question out.

N = No (something they don't like about you)

He's a strict guy, Sekido, but surprisingly, there's nothing he truly hates about you. He says you have a few annoying habits that really piss him off, but when he tells you, he makes it sound like he likes them? ex. "You have this stupid way of talking where you don't shut up, where you get really happy to see me and it seriously makes me mad. So stop looking so cute when you do that."

The only thing Karaku would not like about you is if you ever yell at him or criticize him for not taking things seriously. Since it's you, he'll cut you some slack, but he does take full offense.

Aizetsu really doesn't like how much you spend away from him. Every minute away from him plants a new doubtful thought in his head that says to him, "They don't want to be around you," and cries about it every time it happens.

Urogi is really big on smells. When you switch your perfume or come back to see him smelling like a different person or not like yourself just in general, he can't be around you. He'll cover his nose and bump into walls just to avoid you if you smell like any sort of fancy scent.

O = Open (how open are they to you?)

Sekido's a really hard case to crack. He won't tell you if anything's bothering him, emotionally wise, because he hates being vulnerable. He'll do anything to avoid those feelings and therefore avoid telling you about them. When he sees you upset about how he's not open with you, he silently gives you reassurance that he's fine and tells you not to worry.

Karaku doesn't particularly have anything to share most of the time. He deals with that stuff by himself by either ignoring it or accepting it and seeing things on the bright side, so if there were a chance for him to be open, he would've already figured it out on his own already.

Aizetsu is almost too open. Not in the sense that he trauma dumps on you all the time, but he just cries a lot over anything so he's forced to be open with you about how he's feeling. He thinks you're a great listener though and trusts you enough to tell you when he's suffering in silence. (be like aizetsu and don't suffer in silence!!)

It's almost scary how Urogi opens his mouth and says his unhinged thoughts. It doesn't matter if they're sad (they're usually not) or honest, he just says what comes to his mind. You usually have to do a double take to see if you heard him right.

P = Patience (how patient do you have to be with them?)

The highest level of patience. Unless you can deal with someone bossing you around, bullying you relentlessly, and yelling at every minor issue. Seriously, Sekido is the hardest person to deal with because of his anger issues, and literally being the rage demon, so don't expect him to go soft without a fight.

With Karaku, you really don't have to be patient at all. One small word from you and he's on his knees doing all the work or anything you ask. He's so whipped for you.

Aizetsu is kind of stubborn, but not in a stubborn way. He's not easily persuaded to do things since his outlook on life is very...in the negatives. With his depressive episodes as well, he requires a lot of check ups and reassuring.

Usually, whatever you say to Urogi goes. There's no fights or stubbornness, he's almost 'trainable.' On off days where he doesn't want to listen, he'll fly away and you have to wait for him to come back, but that's about it.

Q = Quitting (are they susceptible to calling it quits?)

No. Sekido may be a hot head with a short fuse, but he's not going to get rid of you that easily. Maybe here and there, he'll get so mad you two break up for a bit, but it's very on and off with those little baby break ups. If you slip away from him, he'll secretly put in a lot of effort to get you back.

Karaku is always calm and looking to make you happy or content with being with him. He definitely does not want you leaving him, so his possibilities are super low.

Fat chance. Once Aizetsu trusts you, he's LATCHED onto you. He'll say that he doesn't care what might happen in the future, but in reality he cries every time he thinks you might leave him.

Urogi didn't even know what the term 'dating' or 'relationship' meant before you, so he's not going to know what 'breaking up' or an 'ex' means. The thought of losing you does put him on edge though.

R = Romance (how they act around you)

Not at all. Sekido actually hates anything romantic, hearts, flowers, candles, all of it. He thinks it's cheesy and a waste of time. But...if you like it...then he guesses that maybe he'd give it a try...maybe.

Karaku knows his way around romance, he practically is romance, he loves love. Loving you is his favorite hobby, so of course he's going to be romantic and sweet!

Aizetsu treats you like a stranger sometimes, moving around you so you don't see him (you always do) because he's too scared to show affection. His idea of romance is sitting next to you and holding your hand.

Urogi really doesn't know what romance is. When he found you, he just decided in his mind that he liked you and that was that. He's really happy though!

S = Smitten (how in love they are with you?)

There's no telling what's on Sekido's mind. He'll never tell you how he truly truly feels because he gets mad at himself for feeling any ounce of compassion. He thinks being in love makes him weak, so he tries not to show how much he actually loves you.

It's written on Karaku's face pretty much. Every time Karaku looks at you, he either has a serene looking face or just heart eyes, no in between.

Aizetsu is so attached and in love with you, he thinks he deserves pity because of how much he feels. In his heart, it's very grey in terms of in black and white, one moment he'll be completely smitten and another he'll doubt himself and your relationship.

SUPER SMITTEN. Urogi can't get enough of you. He's so in love with you and you make his heart feel the warmest it's ever been.

T = Thrill (how is it being with them)

Understandably so, being with any of these demons is a thrill on it's own.

Sekido is thrilling because of how angry he gets and in the sense that he's full of power and dominance. He'll protect you any chance he gets but he's also partially shy when it comes to stuff like that.

Karaku isn't much to take in and being with him is actually pretty calm except when he's in battle, which is when you can see a side to him that you haven't seen before.

Aizetsu there's really no domestic thrill and he's actually fairly tame for the most part.

Urogi is the most thrilling. Not only does he have the most exciting personality but he also has a set of wings that can fly you to places you've never seen before. He can quite literally lift you up when you're sad and take you to new heights.

U = Understanding (are they understanding or stubborn?)

Sekido is stubborn as hell. Even if you explain it to him over and over again he's going to deny it or tell you he's right, which for the most part he's not. It just angers him more that you don't take his side and try to understand him.

Karaku understands things without you even telling him. He's so good at reading social cues so if you get mad he apologizes right away, and even if he's the one who's mad at you, he'll still make an effort.

Aizetsu is painfully clueless at times. If it's something important, he'll get it right away, but if it's not he's dumbfounded.

Zero thoughts. Urogi doesn't understand shit. That doesn't mean he means anything by it, he just literally doesn't understand.

V = Valentine (how they'd act on the holiday)

Sekido will say something like, "Oh, is that holiday still around? Don't care." and then present you with the biggest present ever. He's been around so he has collections of gems and crystals that he'll give and just leave next to you when you wake up that day too.

Karaku is doing everything in his power to honor this day. He'll break out the flowers, the food, the romantic candle light. Everything. He's honestly very sweet just in general, but on this day he's calmer than usual and just takes it slow.

Aizetsu waits till the very end of the day to hand you a card, nervous that you'll hate it or laugh at him, but watches you throughout the whole day wondering what you'll do.

Urogi forgets. Of course. But! If you remind him he laughs about it and quickly grabs whatever he can find and presents it to you, holding it out as if he didn't just grab a vase from the table saying, "Happy Valentine's Day!"

W = Water (do they like swimming?)

Sekido can't go out and have a fun beach day with you, so it's always at night. But he never goes in because it's such a hassle going in and then going out and getting dry, he just hates it. But he'll watch you.

Ooh Karaku is jumping IN if he sees water. He finds it so refreshing and relaxing to swim, especially after the fun he'll let you lay on his chest against his arm and enjoy the sounds of the river.

Aizetsu covers his body up, (adidas track suit wearing ahh), so he's a bit shy when he has to undress. However if you beg him enough and pull him in, he'll wade in the water with you. He doesn't hate it.

Urogi plus water is like watching a bird in a bird bath. He LOVES water. Not only is it a free bath, but it's also fun splashing around with you or pushing you under, which for some reason he finds hilarious.

X = Xtra (extra headcanon)

If you beg him hard enough, Sekido will do this thing called 'light show' where he uses his staff to manipulate lightning to shoot up in different directions. When he's not using it to kill people, it's really pretty, but it's also loud as hell so he makes you wear earplugs or sit far away from him when he does it.

Karaku loves nature. His weapon is a maple leaf, after all. So he loves going out on night walks with you, even if they’re super short or long, there’s something about the cold air and nice scenery is so calm to him. And you’re there too so it makes it like, 99% better.

Aizetsu has really nice handwriting. He writes poems and haikus (either about you or about death) all the time, but he never fails to amaze you with his ink work and the way his brush strokes are so effortlessly perfect.

Urogi will listen to all the stories you have to tell. Especially if they’re from your life around humans, his eyes practically morph into stars and he crosses his legs like a kid getting ready for story time waiting for you to tell your story. He cares so much about you and your life and hearing all those experiences just fills his head with happiness.

Y = Yearning (what they're like when you're not around)

Sekido wouldn't be caught dead missing you...unless? He's not keen on showing any ounce of vulnerability, but when he does miss you he keeps himself busy so he doesn't have to think about it. He'll yell at inanimate objects to express his anger of how much he wants you back and actually breaks a few things though.

Karaku doesn't leave your side. He's honestly just with you everywhere you go. If somehow you get him off you and leave him alone, he gets really bored and kind of upset. Once you get back though, he complains about missing you as he's peppering your face with kisses.

When Aizetsu misses you, he'll sulk around more than usual...if that's even possible. He'll drag his feet and attempt to brush himself off, but he doesn't go far and just ends up crying his eyes out.

Urogi without you around is similar to that of a puppy waiting of his owner to return. He's waiting, sitting down, impatiently if you go out to get food for yourself or leave to go on a walk in the sun, but he's honestly just thinking about what he's going to do with you once you get back.

Z = Zeal (will they go to the ends of the earth for you?)

Yes. Sekido would clear out villages for you. If anything bad were to happen to the one person he truly loves, he's going to give them all hell.

Karaku would kill for you. That goes without saying. For you, he'd do anything. If he can't be with you, what's the point of his life?

Aizetsu would be scared and try to back out, but in the end he'll fight for you. It doesn't matter if he wants to cry or disappear, he loves you too much to lose you.

Urogi would rip apart the world to find you if you get lost. He's not leaving without the person he loves.

780 notes · View notes

gepardling · 11 months

Note

I saw your blog and I love your writings sm🫶 Glad to see a fellow Gepard simp (JGKFKRJSHA HE'S SO HOT)

Going to my request, if you are fine with smut requests, is it okay for me to request husband!Gepard and spouse!gn!reader, featuring breeding kink and manhandling? It's up to you how you want to write how the story goes, surprise me 👀

Anyways, make sure to take care of yourself as well, stay hydrated, and thank you sm!!

happy anniversary w/ gepard.

desc. : im so srry for my mini-hiatus, my schedule is spaghetti ;p my mind was lowkey still buzzing abt the museum event, n i needed a good hook for da story okay !! to me, marriage means becoming a family, so i used dat to set the scene :) am also working on improving gn!reader smut so i hope i did good here ( wc : 1.9k )

tags / cw : nsfw, gn!reader, pretty fluffy i think, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), top!gepard, bottom!reader, aftercare, manhandling, breeding (I HOPE I DID THESE RIGHT, I'M SUCH A VANILLA PERSON), not proofread !

Gepard couldn’t help but wonder if he was cut out for fatherhood, given his past encounters with children. It seemed that whenever he interacted with little ones, they either burst into tears at the sight of him or found themselves quickly bored by his serious demeanor. As such, he had never entertained the idea of having a family of his own – not until he met you, at least.

You had a habit of taking Gepard’s entire world and turning it upside down, making him question everything he thought he believed up until that point. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and he quickly found himself drawn to your open-mindedness. Spontaneity was something that Gepard lacked in his life, and you delivered everything he needed and more.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had married, and everyone knew it was a long time coming. No one could soften up the strict Captain like you could, especially when you manage to catch him off guard. Just the other day, Gepard's heartstrings were thoroughly scrambled when he saw you guiding a group of children through the museum. The way you handled the kids was beyond Gepard, and you taught history in a way that they understood, even enjoyed.

After another one of your museum shifts, you and Gepard were relaxing at home. It was the evening of your first anniversary, having been married for a year. Gepard was immersed in a book, your head rested on his shoulder as you arranged your thoughts. Which is what brought you to this point. Here, in your shared home, you decided to finally raise the question.

“You know,” you began softly, your voice carrying a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. “I can’t help but imagine… What if we had children?” Gepard’s demeanor instantly shifted, a fleeting tension washing over his body. Sensing his unease, you hurriedly backtracked. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to… And that’s okay!”

But before the words could fully escape your mouth, Gepard’s reassuring touch met your hand, his eyes filled with warmth. “No, not at all,” he assured. “You simply caught me off guard…” There was an excited tone to his voice, but some uncertainty still lingered deep beneath the surface.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you absorbed Gepard’s response. “I think it would be amazing,” you uttered, a dreamy lilt decorating your tone. Gepard’s fingers gently traced the wedding band adorning your finger, and he was instantly reminded of your wedding, how radiant you looked as you stood before him. The image of you, eyes filled with unwavering devotion, etched itself permanently in his heart.

Your gentle laughter caressed his ears as your hand cupped his cheek, pulling him back from his daydream. “Don’t worry, we can wait until you’re ready,” you replied, softly pecking him on the lips. “There’s no rush, after all.” But between your gentle touch and his devotion towards you, all this family talk was getting Gepard a little hot beneath the collar.

He was sure you were aware of it too – your touches growing tantalizingly slow as your lips lingered longer and longer on his. With that same old mischievous glint in your eyes, you took the book from Gepard’s hands and set it on the table across from you. You snaked your arms around his neck, gently shifting yourself into his lap.

"What are we still sitting out here for?" You whispered, forehead pressed against his own. "It's our anniversary after all." Gepard's hands slowly came to rest on your hips, a rosy hue spread across his cheeks. You brought your hands down from his neck, opting to work open the first few buttons of his shirt. Dipping your hands beneath the fabric, Gepard shuddered lightly at your cold touch.

He moved his hands from your hips to your wrists, gently gripping them. "Not on the couch," he breathed. Of course, same old Gepard. That's one rule that's never changed for the whole three years you've been with him. You gave him a quick peck on the nose, followed by a mock salute. Gepard smiled in return, uttering "Your form is off," before scooping you up in his arms.

Your surprise was quickly muffled by his lips on yours, his kiss filled with love and devotion towards you. He made quick work of whisking you off to the bedroom, lightly tossing you onto the soft mattress of your shared bed. You could barely sit up before he was leaning over you, covering your body with his large frame.

"We're not on the couch anymore, are you happy?" You teased, smiling up at him mischievously. Gepard only rolled his eyes in response, lowering his head to kiss you once again. It was deeper this time, only growing more heated as your hands continued to undress him. Before you could undo his belt, his grip on your wrist stopped your ministrations.

"Allow me," he replied, moving to undress you instead. He wedged his knee between your thighs, pushing them open before laying between them. He kept his arms wrapped around your legs, preventing you from closing them again. When he dipped his head between your thighs, you could only gasp at the feeling of his mouth on your heat.

Gepard had more than enough practice over the last few years, and that much was evident. His skilled tongue worked across your sex, rolling over your most sensitive parts. The sensation of his hot mouth caused little stars to spot your vision, nails gripping the sheets so tight you were sure you'd rip them. Your gasps were like music to his ears, only fueling the fire deep within.

His slicked fingers worked you open, gently scissoring your hole. Your back arched at the feeling as Gepard carefully prepared you, sparks of pleasure dashing across your body. But as the buildup started to reach its peak, mere seconds before your vision could go white and the fires of release consumed you, the sudden loss of his fingers and mouth left you cold and empty. The sensation immediately dissipated, fading into obscurity.

Your breathing was ragged as your body attempted to come to terms with the orgasm you never had, blinking away the stars that dotted your vision. "W-Wait," you whispered, raising yourself onto your elbows. "Why'd you st-" But just as the words were about to leave your mouth, Gepard had turned you around onto your stomach, hand resting on your upper back. His free hand hurriedly worked to release his cock from the confines of his pants, as he pressed gentle kisses to the skin of your shoulder blades.

Before you could complain again, he sunk his member deep into your heat. The weight of his body suspended above yours only added to the pleasure, slowly thrusting in sync with the rhythmic contraction of your walls. Each thrust was coupled with the soft grind of his hips, slowly working you back up to your pleasure point. He took his time, butterfly kisses dotting the back of your neck and ears.

"Gepard…" You sighed, to which he replied with a soft hum. While you sincerely enjoyed his languid pace, you needed something more to soothe the ache in your loins. You pressed back against him, breathing a quiet “Faster,” to which he replied with a chuckle. Gepard slipped two fingers between your lips, hushing you with quiet whispers.

You swirled your tongue around his digits, the cool metal of his wedding band contrasting the warmth of your mouth. When he pulled back his hand, a small whine escaped your lips, but your breath soon hitched in your throat as he suddenly increased his pace. He kept his hand pressed down on your lower back, preventing you from bucking back against him as he took you at his own pace.

The way his cock slammed into you left you gasping for air, brushing against your deepest pleasure points. The heat was rising exponentially, drawing the knot in your belly tighter and tighter with each thrust. Gepard’s lips met the back of your ear, gently pressing kisses to the side of your head. As your cries intensified, you buried your face in the closest pillow you could reach, desperate to muffle the throes of your passion.

But Gepard didn’t like the way you tried to hide, and he was quick to swipe the pillow from your hold. He pulled out in the process, and you whined at the sudden loss of contact. The heat from your core dissipated once again, and your orgasm fizzled out of reach a second time. Before you could make your disdain known, his hands gripped your hips to turn you around onto your back.

At your gasp of surprise, his hands met your knees, pushing your thighs up against your chest. He buried himself back in your core, and the roughness of his actions made you wail into your palm. Gepard lowered himself to your face, prying your hand away with his own to clash his lips against yours. You reciprocated the kiss, interlocking your fingers with his. He swiped his tongue against your lower lip, to which you opened your mouth, your tongue meeting his.

When he pulled back, your lips chased his, breaking the delicate string of saliva between you. Your chest heaved as you tried to regain your breath, tiny tears dotting your vision. You felt like you were melting in his hold, the heat of the moment escalating far beyond your limits. Your sighs were like music to Gepard’s ears as he made love to you, consummating your marriage a second time.

The hand from your thigh moved down to your abdomen, pressing into the skin to feel the way he moved inside of you. He gripped your hand tighter, slightly increasing the pace to chase his orgasm. His cock glided effortlessly, bruising your deepest parts as you sang him praise. The pressure rose even higher in your core, building on your previously denied release.

Amidst his passion, Gepard managed to grunt out a quiet “Where do you want it?” ghosting his lips along the side of your face. You managed to compose yourself just enough to answer, barely squeaking out “Inside,” before another moan tore itself from your throat. Gepard’s hands came to rest on your thighs again, burying himself impossibly deep in your core.

The sensation of his load warming you from within sent you over the edge as well, whispers of his name escaping your lips as your nails dug into his arm. Sparks of electrifying bliss enveloped your body, walls clenching around his cock. Gepard rode out his high, gently grinding his hips against yours. His lips met yours again, this time kissing you much softer than before.

When he pulled away, some of his cum dripped from your core. You finally released your iron grip on his hand, sitting up to meet him at eye-level. “Why don’t we go get cleaned up,” you asked, your hand cupping the side of his face. Gepard hummed in approval, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm.

“I think a bath would do,” he spoke, pulling you off the bed and into his arms. Though you weren’t really sure how much cleaning you’d actually get done. All in all, any time you got to spend with your beloved husband was a win in your books.

(melts) i saw a ballet concert, had my hair done, went out w/ my dad nd played league wit my friends. nun of these activities allowed me 2 write my smutty smut dis week waahhhh hopefully back on schedule now :') i tried 2 write dis extra long as an apology, also referenced multiple online sources 4 gn!smut 2 attempt 2 educate myself........

#gepard smut #gepard x you #gepard x reader #gepard hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #gepard landau #♥︎ | milky writes #♥︎ | request

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showtoonzfan · 8 months

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Viv had said that Fizz was her favorite HB character, or her personal favorite. Due to this I had GENUINELY thought she’d let Fizz rip into Blitz and tear him down for the shitty person that he is the same way he did at Ozzie’s, but NOOO we can’t have nice things. This is why I label Blitz and Fizz’s feud in Oops as “petty drama” bc the entire episode is them more bickering about their sex lives and being attention whores/popular than it actually is on calling Blitz out, again there’s like, ONE scene of Fizz digging into Blitz for being a selfish person and that’s the same scene we see their backstory unfold, which is again like…10 seconds, it’s so unsatisfying.

I was hoping we’d see Fizz tear into Blitz and I was going to savor it man. It honestly makes me feel like Fizz was lowkey retconned cause in Ozzie’s he’s this guy who clearly gets a kick out of being more popular than Blitz but more importantly loved to poke at him/embarrass him for how shitty of a person he is. But in Oops Fizz is more of an uwu soft helpless baby who apparently all this time wanted Blitz to come back to him and I just??? That’s total bullshit. Fizz hated Blitz’s guts for what he did, you’re really going to write the character who was left disabled and ruined by the hands of Blitz to someone who wanted said toxic person back into their life??? Fuck off. These writers need to stop ruining every character and rewriting them as suck ups to the two main shitty characters.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #anti vivziepop #helluva boss #helluva boss oops #Fizzarolli

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tyxoxo · 1 year

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Cherry Waves

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

genre: thriller, angst, kidnapper/stalker jeno au, jaemin + mark inserts

words: 11.9k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, murder, blood, knives, cnc smut, oral, fingering, choking/breath play, voyeurism, spitting, unprotected sex, its lowkey giving incel, post-traumatic stress, stockholm syndrome

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering cotent)

a/n: the feds prolly looking at my search history like “👀” but on another note, this is the longest piece of writing i’ve ever published. so pls pls pls! send feedback! this was a rollercoaster of a fic to write ._.

major hugs and kisses to @glitchfiles for helping me decide on an ending and @pradajaehyun for proofreading!

playlist:

deftones - cherry waves • rosemary • bored • be quiet and drive

clams casino - blast

—

“i’m kind of scared. do you think it’ll bite?”

“noo, don’t worry baby. it won’t. squirrels are always welcome to food.” your boyfriend reassured you, chuckling in the presence of your endearing timidness.

the two of you were currently exploring a nature park, choosing to celebrate your 5 year anniversary in the outdoors, away from the bustling city life.

“here, just take the almond and approach them slowly, they’ll come.” he said as he handed you one to start, out of the bag that read Blue Diamond Almonds.

“how about you go first?”

the two of you shared a laugh, your partner nonetheless agreeing to demonstrate.

just like you expected, he took one almond in his hand and began to tread softly over to a family of kits, and a mother. the four were eagerly awaiting the treat, using their noses to scour over to him. one baby squirrel was more brave than the others as the rest halted once your boyfriend began to kneel down.

in one sniff and a switch of its tail, the squirrel grabbed the almond and hurried back to his family.

“see! not that hard! your turn.” he rose up in the process, standing close by in case you opted out.

“alright, here i gooo.” you geared up the courage, doing exactly as he did, approaching softly towards the group of squirrels.

you cocked your head to the side in curiosity at the fact they all ran away in unison, back into the green shrubs they called home. and with not enough time to save you, you heard the scuffing of shoes against pavement and a loud crack sound to follow.

as you turned towards the deafening sound, your boyfriend collapsed onto the floor, his head making contact with the concrete in just as strong of a crash that you heard just mere seconds before.

you weren’t sure if a scream managed to escape, as the hooded figure armed with the hammer made sure that you weren’t conscious to tell the tale.

—

the constant motion of your head banging against a hard surface is what stirred you. your eyelids were heavy, not just from the forced slumber, but from the blood that managed to seep down from your scalp and cake onto your skin. the familiar smell of iron flooded your senses, reminding you of your current state.

somehow you were moving, not on your own accord. you couldn’t have been... your hands and feet were bound with what felt like rope, based on the friction as it dug in your skin.

you were moving inside a van, laying down in a fetal position, with your boyfriend across from you doing the same; though he didn’t seem to be conscious.

it was hard to tell if he was breathing, due to the jounce of the van driving over rough terrain.

the entire vehicle wasn’t average, all of the backseats were gone, not even folded down into a compartment. it felt industrial, with what seemed like new steel framework covering the entire interior.

you lacked the energy to produce any sound, let alone turn to the direction of the driver's seat to see who was transporting you. the salt from your tears was the last you could recall before falling back into a deep sleep.

—

to say you reanimated back in the comfort of your own home, with your partner by your side would be the highlight of your life. to say that what all happened was merely a dream.

yet, your harsh reality was thrust upon you once you awoke again. all of your limbs were still bound, with the only appropriate action being observing where you were now.

you were placed on a cold, grey concrete floor, plastic tarp covering the walls and ceiling, with a single LED work light standing in the corner offering plenty of illumination. a standalone workbench was positioned against the left wall, with an abundance of mechanical tools to satisfy any technician.

you knew you were still covered in your own blood, but the smell wasn’t there anymore. instead the nauseating odor of overused bleach coming from a nearby bathroom overtook your senses.

your vision finally began to focus on your boyfriend who was lying directly across from you.

you weren’t sure if your attacker merely forgot to tape your mouths shut in a haste or simply didn’t care. either way, you used what freedom you had left to call out, your scream resonating enough to wake him up.

he winced, teeth covered in crimson from the aftermath of his blunt force trauma. once he met your eyes, tears began to well; relieved to know he was breathing, but pained to see him struggling for clarity.

he scanned the room, just as you did, then settled upon your crying eyes.

“are you okay?! please, tell me you’re okay!”

he was selfless just like always, more concerned about your well-being than his own.

“i-im okay.”

truly you weren’t. your head was pounding, and your arms were beginning to fall asleep from being bound.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you. im-”

“no! don’t say that! we need to get out of here now!” you cut him off immediately, not wanting his words to add onto the anguish you were already feeling.

“just stay there and i’ll come to you.”

you nodded as he began to shimmy along the cold floor, using his coarse shoe soles to push along the concrete.

he paused every other moment, most likely feeling dizzy from his injury.

your hopes were crushed when he was halfway. the sound of multiple door locks being fidgeted with, echoed throughout what you assumed to be the basement. the door creaked, and slammed shut even louder. your boyfriend stopped moving, knowing the end was potentially near.

the view of who or what coming down the stairs was obstructed by the tarp covered wall but within seconds, you saw a man.

who didn’t bother to cover his face.

you kept the fact that he was attractive repressed in your mind. it was more important to realize that you would likely die here now that you saw what he looked like.

he was tall, lean, and young. couldn’t have been much younger or older than you. with raven dark hair that was long enough to form somewhat of a mullet. his bangs covered most of his blank expression, though it didn’t take much squinting to realize his irises were black. an evil black.

your memory was too foggy to remember if he was wearing the same clothes as before. but the white dress shirt, and black slacks didn’t seem familiar; especially the black butcher’s apron.

he stopped at the base of the stairs upon seeing your boyfriend’s attempts to get close to you.

“we can give you whatever you want. we have money. take our cards, whatever. just let us go please!”

he ignored your boyfriend’s pleas, choosing not to even look at him. instead, his eyes bore deep in your own.

fear grew in the pit of your stomach. there were only a few things a guy like him would want from you and the thought of him taking not only your life, but your body shook you down to your bones.

your boyfriend must’ve assumed the same based on his whirling eyes between you and your attacker.

you wished to give him a name, something to represent his depravity. but all thoughts were paused once he began walking slowly in the direction of the workbench.

there was a toolbox and a rolled up utility belt waiting for him, it was just a matter of choice.

he rustled through the box, creating enough noise to elicit terror for the both of you.

it didn’t take long for him to choose one, the light in the corner bouncing off of the stainless steel bowie knife that he pulled from it.

he inspected the blade and it’s sharpness in silence, ignoring the sobbing coming from your disheveled body.

“kill me and just let her go!”

your boyfriend’s cries didn’t go unnoticed, as the mephisto of a man paused his inspection, eyebrows raising as if he would accept that offer.

seeing his side profile from his position at the workbench sparked faint recollection within you.

why did he look familiar?

—

Four Months Ago

—

jeno still wasn’t good enough at adapting to his new life of carnage.

how did he not know that a decomposing body would attract maggots, no matter how “clean” he kept his basement bathroom.

the life he claimed was an “accident.”

atleast that’s what he told himself.

but could a life taken after rejection still be considered an accident? maybe.

the girl took too long.

he cooked for her, provided clothes for her, gave her a place to sleep. yet she was never accepting of his affection.

it was just four days ago that he had to rush to the emergency room on his own volition, to have a laceration on his collarbone stitched. the bitch barely missed his subclavian.

he was beginning to be more lenient after holding her captive at his house for 2 weeks. though he wasn’t sure if there was a beginner’s guide on “how long it should take to actually let a hostage begin to roam your house.” but he learned his lesson after dinner, when she ran towards the kitchen sink and grabbed the sashimi knife.

every attending nurse asked what happened, but he continued to blame it on a “freak accident”: trying to transport a porcelain attachment on his shoulders, tripping and ultimately earning a gash.

somehow they bought it.

ten stitches later, he was discharged. seething at the teeth, he sped back to his house to finish her. he couldn’t have another slip up like that again.

that night he brought the blade into her neck, earning her a matching cut.

it was the first and last time she was ever brave.

now here jeno was, at a utility store in search of his first shovel. he wasn’t picky, he just needed something sturdy enough to help dig his first grave.

off into the distance, he saw you. innocently scanning the shelves for new vanity light bulbs.

you were absolutely perfect.

he felt a sudden magnetic pull to be near you, even smell you. but he had to resist the urge; there was a decomp job waiting for him at home.

it probably wasn’t a good idea to approach you either, as there was a possibility the smell of putrefaction was beginning to attach to his clothes.

from that day on, jeno had been watching you for months.

every outfit you wore, every doe-eyed expression, every bite of your lip was all for him.

even though the two of you were never formally introduced, he knew the proper time would come.

so far he had done well becoming acquainted from afar: he knew where you worked, your grocery store of choice, your primary care doctor, even your favorite drink at the local café.

there was still so much left to uncover. now, he set the goal of finding out your birthday, just to send a batch of flowers to your job when the time came; labeled anonymous of course.

but the dreams of becoming your admirer were crushed the day that jeno found out you had a significant other. he almost chucked the vase he was holding. he didn’t need a vase, he was merely there because you and your boyfriend were at a furniture store, eyeing a new couch for your living room. it was just a method for him to blend in.

he kept his composure so as not to draw attention nor have to pay the store for damages.

the boy you called “babe” was average, nowhere near your level. but you clutched onto him like he was the only thing that mattered.

what did he have, that jeno didn’t?

the obvious answer was you.

jeno sat the vase down before storming out of the store, causing the bell atop of the door to slam and chime throughout the showroom. you actually turned to the direction of the entrance, somewhat alarmed at how loud it rang through the store.

fortunately, you were too late to see him.

that night, jeno began plotting his second abduction. it would be a challenge, no doubt.

he would ultimately regret if you got hurt in the process, but with enough love, he could prove that he was sorry.

and now that his “ex” was taken care of, he could finally focus.

there was a small checklist he made within a couple of days: buy a van, have the backseats removed and fitted with steel.

luckily money wasn’t an issue. but he did get a few weird glances from the auto modifications shop at his request.

“you don’t seem like the type to want a van decked out like this?” the automotive stylist said while looking over jeno’s new 12-seater.

he was sly enough to come up with a lie, plus the amount of money he was willing to drop was all that was needed to seal the deal.

jeno considered himself well-equipped from first girlfriend, it was just a matter of time and preparation before you were his second...

—

Present

—

you couldn’t hold back your screams, not when the love of your life was on his knees, being held at knife point.

“please! stop! you don’t have to d-do this!”

you thrashed on the floor, tears painting your cheeks, mucus staining your upper lip.

jeno had dragged your boyfriend back to his original position with his knife in hand, eventually standing behind him.

he took a handful of your lover’s hair to cock his head back, exposing an array of veins lining his neck.

“i love you so much…” was the last you would ever hear, causing jeno to furrow his brow and snarl in disgust.

the life you once knew was taken in a slash, jeno’s right hand swiping the serrated blade along your boyfriend’s stained skin.

your ears rang from the sound of metal against flesh, all of the tendons snapping at once. velvet poured from the now-open cavity, splattering onto the tarp and jeno’s bare hands.

your guts felt twisted, hearing the gurgling sounds of blood clogging his airway. seeing his eyes roll back into his sockets. so lifeless.

jeno let the body fall on its own.

he was inexplicably satisfied. the pig you called “babe” was now out of the picture, merely a slab of dead meat.

you curled into a ball, letting your head fall to the floor, entire soul succumbing to emptiness.

you simply didn’t care if you were next.

jeno stepped over the corpse and towards you, knife still in hand. with a swipe of his nose, he kneeled down in front of your shaken form, the least bit bothered by the blood smeared on his septum.

you didn’t even flinch when he tossed the knife down, barely missing your chest when it came to a stop on the floor.

“when i come back, we’ll be formally introduced.”

with a click of his tongue he rose up, leaving as if he didn’t just rip out your heart.

it didn’t take long for your boyfriend’s blood to run across the basement floor, the rest clotting near his open throat.

you let the warmth of the dark fluid envelop you. soaking deeper and deeper into your clothes.

—-

“shhh. shouldn’t we be quiet?”

you heard the whispered voice of a woman, giggling in between her words.

your eyes fluttered open, taking a while to adjust from the tears that crystallized over your eyelashes.

how many hours, or days has it been?

based on the way your clothes were now brittle from the dried blood, and the sea of black covering the floor, it had been a while.

unfortunately, your subconscious wasn’t able to repress the memories of your dead boyfriend, not when his cold, stiff body was still on the floor.

his skin had blotched purple, showing signs of livor mortis, his irises a milky white.

“no its fine. come here.”

you heard the familiar voice of your abductor, as he ushered the woman down the basement stairs.

excitement littered both of their faces, the girl hopping from the last step and into his arms.

you didn’t care to recall her appearance, the only thing worth mentioning was her frilly dress and kitten heels.

did she not even react to the scene in front of her? a corpse, and your starving body, still tied up, on a soiled basement floor?

she continued to giggle, keeping her hands on his chest.

“this is amazing…you’re so fucking hot.” her ear-grating words were swallowed by the heavy kiss they shared, attacking each other’s mouths. if it wasn’t for the mess, you were sure that he would’ve slammed her against the tarp covered wall.

his hands explored her body, lifting up the ruffled fabric to expose her ass, squeezing ever so often to hear her whine in pleasure.

you tried your hardest to block out the sounds of their smothered lips. even slamming your eyes shut to fulfill the disbelief that flooded your brain.

“you know i did this for you right?” he spoke in between their labored breaths, pulling away for air.

“of course i did…now can i show you how grateful i am?”

he nodded, palming himself through his black pants.

the girl guided him towards his workbench, pushing his back into the chilled metal table, seeming dominant in her quest to show thanks.

her hands trailed down to his belt buckle, freeing the clasp. you could hear his zipper being undone, and the sigh of relief once she started touching him in the right places.

you didn’t have the strength to demand them to stop, nor the freedom to end your own life. either decision would only fuel her to go slower.

the she-devil got down on her knees, pulling down his pants, giddy at the sight of him with no underwear. his dick sprang free from its confines, snapping back onto his chiseled groin. the girl squealed in satisfaction, to see that he was just as big as her face.

a growl erupted from his throat as she took him in her small hands and licked along the underside of his cock.

she welcomed him in her drooling mouth, keeping her eyes glued to his look of satisfaction. he wasted no time fucking her face, eyes darting between you and the corpse he created.

you winced at every gag you heard, every tug of his lips between his teeth.

she was struggling to fit what she could, even tapping his thighs, signaling to stop. but he wasn’t concerned for her effort.

he was busy swimming in pure ectasy, getting off to the chaos he created.

through it all, you finally managed to mutter the words,

“please kill me…”

—

Day 2

—

the snapping sounds were becoming too hard to ignore. you couldn’t drown them out any longer.

your eyes focused on him again, attempting to stuff the rigid corpse into a large black suitcase.

he panted as he tried to bend the unforgiving joints, fighting against the effects of rigor mortis.

his frustration was growing with every trial and error. and the smell of rotting flesh wasn’t helping either.

you were too catatonic to react…it was just another day in his world.

he eventually succeeded, feeling pleased to have the remains covered before it continued its cycle of decay.

in the corner of his eye, he saw you wiggling in your restraints, trying to make your limbs come alive again.

“who was that girl?”

your voice was crackly, barely audible from dehydration.

“what?” he said with obvious confusion, pausing to look over at your crippled frame.

“the girl you were with?” you gulped afterwards, trying your hardest to lubricate your vocal chords with what saliva you had left.

“must’ve been a nightmare…” he spoke under his breath, shameless in his look of concern.

somehow you believed him.

and the mere thought of dreaming something so wicked disgusted you.

you watched as he finished zipping up the suitcase, taking off his vinyl gloves and tossing them on top.

he then made his way over to you, kneeling down to untie the complex knots on your wrists and ankles.

you chose not to look at him, fearing he would change his mind and leave you there to molder in sorrow.

“i’ve hidden my name for long enough…jeno.”

his eyes managed a subtle smile through his introduction; the naturally occurring feature strangely matching his exterior. if he wasn’t a murderer.

once the ropes fell loose, you could barely resort back to mobility. it felt unnatural to finally be able to stretch after so long.

but now that you were somewhat free, you finally realized how filthy you were.

“i’ve got some cleaning up to do…there’s a bathroom for you to use over there. freshen up and then i can take you upstairs to the kitchen.” he pointed with his head over to the ivory bathroom, which seemed to be the only clean spot in the basement.

he had the decency to help you to your feet, watching as you struggled to gain equilibrium. you looked away into the direction of the bathroom, indicating you could help yourself now.

you didn’t bother glancing over to the workbench, figuring he was smart enough to put away his tools and weapons. you didn’t have the energy to defend yourself anyways.

the bathroom wasn’t far enough away to miss the smell of a festered corpse but you hoped by the time you showered, it would all be a bit better.

to your surprise, the bathroom was fully stocked: unopened toiletries, feminine products, shampoo, body wash, lotions, towels, everything you needed to feel alive again.

laying in the sink was an oversized t-shirt, sweatpants and socks, all in a vacuum sealed bag, which you assumed to be jeno’s. or maybe they belonged to a former victim. it didn’t matter as long as they were clean. anything was better than the battered clothes you had on now.

you closed the door and began to undress, keeping your body towards the door incase jeno barged in to take advantage of your naked form. though you doubted anyone would want to see the current state you were in.

raising your legs to get inside the fiberglass shower proved to be a challenge, even bending down to adjust the temperature of the water made your knees buckle.

but you eventually managed to rid yourself of the dried blood and sweat; water droplets masking your tears as you watched the black clumps flow down into the drain.

—

jeno was waiting for you outside the door, leaning against the wall that was now free of plastic sheets.

everything was spotless, or at least that’s what you could discern through your hooded eyes. the floor was free of biomass, all of the tarp was discarded, and the suitcase was nowhere to be found. most of all, the horrid odor was gone.

jeno eyed you up and down, satisfied with the floral smell coming from the lotion he bought you. he was always a fan of rose, and he hoped you were too.

he reached out his left hand for you to take, but you rejected the gesture, instead hugging your sides and looking down at your feet.

you could get up the stairs just fine.

or so you thought.

just as your feet made contact with the first step, you tugged on jeno’s shirt for support as he led the way.

you managed to miss the faint smile that painted his face, as you were too busy trying not to lose balance.

once you made it upstairs, you took in the interior. natural white oak floors, a spacious living room fitted with potted plants, a curtained patio sliding door, a small tv, with a gaming console placed just underneath in the stand, a glass coffee table, and a single white boucle couch that was surprisingly free of any suspicious stains.

the same could be said for the kitchen, shiny quartz countertops, and all steel appliances. you began to doubt if he afforded all of this on his own, but then you thought back to his extensive basement. maybe his career supported all of his dangerous endeavors.

your stomach instantely growled upon sitting at the kitchen bar. so loud that jeno managed to hear it as he began rummaging through the drawers for cooking utensils.

“i guess i should tell you the reason that you’re here.” jeno huffed as he began chopping up the raw food onto a cutting board. your heart dropped at his words; you weren’t sure if you could handle learning the reason right now.

“i’ve been watching you for quite a while now…i just knew from the very first time, that i had to prove my worth. prove that i could be everything you needed.”

you knew you weren’t mentally ready to play along with his insanity, nor try to earn his trust so soon. with his level of denial, your strategy needed time.

all you could do was be a listener and soak in his confession.

“i know i’ve done irreversible damage to you, so i don’t expect forgiveness. but at least let me give you the support you deserve to heal.”

you chose not to reply, it was best that way.

maybe through the silence, he would come to his senses.

as he continued to cook, you tried to look closely for any hints of him lacing the food. you weren’t afraid to deny sustenance in exchange for starvation.

but when you realized he was making a plate for himself, you felt less suspicious.

jeno arranged the food to look delectable, and placed everything neatly on trays, paired with a glass of water. he stood across the kitchen bar, eagerly awaiting your review before he took his first bite.

you picked at the rice with your fork, and tried your best not to tremble when you brought it up to your mouth and swallowed a few grains. he frowned when he noticed you trying to hold back tears.

what was so sad about a plate of food?

“i didn’t do anything to it.” he said sympathetically, but you let the tears fall anyway.

having a meal with the man that kidnapped you wasn’t anything to be delighted about. nonetheless, you grabbed more and more, slowly beginning to feel replenished.

jeno ate with you in silence, every once in a while watching the tears fall onto your plate.

you were sure that the lack of food for two days straight was the reason for the onset of nausea that creeped inside your body. the food didn’t taste bad, far from it. but the more you ate, the more you felt like you couldn’t keep it down.

a couple of spoonfuls remained, and once you set down your fork, you eyed the couch behind you in the living room.

laying on a soft surface for once, sounded the most appealing.

“can you help me to the couch?”

you knew he wouldn’t turn down your request. anything you could do to earn his trust, the better.

jeno was quick to assist, first, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink.

“i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge, just let me know when you want some more.” he said as he walked briskly to your position on the bar stool.

you didn’t dare move.

his soft hands grabbed both of your own, clasping somewhat too hard to get you to your feet. you faced him eye to eye, waiting for him to guide you.

but there was no motion from either of you; his chest mere centimeters from your own. his irises were such an uncomfortable black, soulless.

you couldn’t look away.

sweat formed in your hands, which you were sure that he could feel. yet, he didn’t let go. a sniffle from your runny nose seemed to have snapped him out of his reverie.

with no further time to waste, he helped you towards the living room, keeping hold of your clammy hands as you sunk down into the soft material. you winced as you swung your legs around to lay flat but immediately exhaled in relief at the plush cushions hugging your entire backside.

jeno brought your glass of water to the coffee table, and scooted the tv remote closer.

just the mere sight of the remote made you wonder if turning on the news right now would show hundreds of stories on you and your boyfriend's disappearance. or any leads on the suspect.

your family, your goals, your passions, all ripped away by someone that “cared” about you.

why couldn’t you bring yourself to scream at the top of your lungs to fill the void?

the desperate need for rest overpowered everything else. this was the most comfortable you had ever felt in a while.

you closed your eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep to the sound of running water from the kitchen sink.

—

you missed the answer to your question just half an hour later. it was motivation.

had you heard the sound of heavy knocks echoing off of the front door. you would’ve made your presence known, whether or not it was the police.

a youthful male voice yelled on the other side.

“jenooo! open up buddy!”

then a different voice spoke,

“dude! we know you’re in there!”

jeno froze from drying the dishes, only his eyes looking in the direction of the door.

it was mark and jaemin.

he thought he made it very clear, for them to never show up to his house unannounced.

ever since he began seeking you out, he made sure to send a text to them stating that “he’d been going through a rough time, that it was best to have as much privacy as possible. and to always shoot a text or a call before coming over.”

guess they didn’t want to respect his wish.

he carefully sat down the ceramic bowl on the counter and bolted towards your sleeping body.

he didn’t even need to spike your drink, it was obvious you were going to pass out from sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion.

jeno knitted his brow in disappointment. you looked so perfect like this, ready and willing to take what he could give. and now his friends had to ruin it.

sadly, he didn’t have time to be gentle.

your eyes immediately shot open at the feeling of him gripping your waist with one hand, and covering your mouth with the other.

“don’t fucking say a word.”

he snarled in your ear, spit accidentally hitting your lobe from how hard he spoke. he wrapped his veiny arm around your hips, forcing you away from the couch.

you had more energy than he thought, preventing him from getting a good enough grip to hoist you over his shoulders. you kicked at the coffee table, managing to knock over the glass of water onto the hardwood floor. he saw you turn your head towards the direction of the door from the sound of a few more knocks, those probably being the first you heard ever since they arrived.

he suffered through the discomfort of you gnawing at his fingers as he dragged you back towards the basement.

your measly struggle only allowed a single muffled scream to bounce against the crevices of his hands.

as he kicked the door open to the basement, he switched positions, this time dragging you down by a simple chokehold, causing your body to slump from the lack of circulation.

your heels knocked against each step, no longer having the adrenaline to fight back. he hurriedly grabbed the duct tape on the workbench, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to do a thorough restraint.

it pained him to toss you onto the hard floor, just when you were beginning to find solace in his home. but he continued to tape your mouth, and your wrists, ripping the strips with his teeth.

he added plenty to your mouth, knowing you were smart enough to try and lick the adhesive.

you were disoriented enough from your elbows and knees striking the concrete, that he was able to sprint back upstairs, locking you inside.

there wasn’t as much of a mess when he returned, just a glass of water shattered into pieces on the floor. he ignored it for now, already coming up with an excuse for the slight disarray.

he wiped his hands free of your saliva before opening the door.

of course the two were excited to see him.

“took you long enough!” jaemin exclaimed before reaching in for a hug. jeno didn’t return the embrace, choosing to remain cold and statuesque.

the two friends could sense the tension, coming to their defense immediately.

“now before you get pissed, we sent you hella text messages and you never responded.” jaemin stepped back, raising up the palms of his hands.

“yeah and we were beginning to worry. is it okay if we come in and talk? just thought it would be nice to check on you.” mark followed suit with his concern, hoping jeno would permit them entry.

secretly, jeno was squeezing his side of the door handle to death, and internally, his blood was boiling.

he had an entire human being probably thrashing around in his basement, and two unmarked graves of his ex and your ex in his backyard.

now wasn’t the time.

but they were already here, and telling them to leave wouldn’t be easy.

“fine. but you can’t stay long. i have to go grocery shopping here soon.”

a complete lie.

jeno stood aside to let them enter, remembering to bring up the broken glass on the living room floor as they took off their shoes.

“be careful, i dropped a glass of water earlier. let me sweep it up first.” jeno made sure they stopped in their tracks before walking over to his coat closet to grab the broom and dustpan.

he swept up the crystal shards in seconds, mentally praying that they would want to do something other than just talk in silence,

something to drown out the potential noises you would make from downstairs.

—

unbeknowest to you, jeno was trying his hardest to appear unbothered as the three took turns playing Street Fighter.

he kept losing, which seemed unlike him. and not once yelling at the screen was unlike him too. mark and jaemin noticed his lack of excitement, but couldn’t brush it off any longer.

“you sure you’re okay?” mark looked over at jeno once the match ended.

“yeah i’m fine.”

“we can stop playing if you want. i get you’re not always in the mood.”

“no it’s fine. i need the distraction…”

jeno looked down at his controller, finding that to be the better option than locking eyes with either of them.

“is work kicking your ass? maybe you need a vacation…have some time away from all the bullshit.”

jaemin did have a point, but you were more important. vacation could wait.

—

had you finally been rescued? had the police finally traced him?

the lack of commotion from the rest of the house left you feeling hopeless. maybe the detectives were doing a welfare check, which wouldn’t account for much noise. jeno didn’t seem like the type to attack law enforcement nor turn himself in.

he’d only had you all to himself for a day now, you doubted he would give himself up so soon.

you managed to stand to your feet, thankful for the rush that prevented him from taping your ankles together.

you tried searching his workbench for any signs of a sharp object that could cut your wrists free. of course he locked everything away, and there didn’t seem to be a secret compartment.

you then ran up the stairs and placed your ear against the door.

all you could hear were two faint voices other than jeno’s. but they weren’t loud enough to discern their position in the world. either way, you had to make your presence known.

the length from the door to the stairs was non-existent, which meant you couldn’t get a head start to ram your shoulders into the steel material.

the least you could do was kick and shove it, just enough to indicate a disturbance.

you did all the above; sure to make his visitors look in the direction of the basement.

you were beginning to get overzealous in your attempts. you just knew you were going to be saved now.

just as you stepped back to increase what momentum you had, you felt gravity pull you down towards the trenches.

without any assistance from your hands to break your fall, your entire body tumbled down the staircase.

the uneasy sound of a pop rang under your skin, traveling all the way from your ankle.

as soon as your twisted body settled at the bottom of the staircase, you instantly knew.

he was definitely going to dispose of you now.

—

jeno thought he could never truly be mad at you. but when you decided to cause a scene downstairs, he knew a punishment was in order.

luckily, mark received a call from his girlfriend saying she needed help installing a new router in her apartment, and since jaemin rode together with him, they had to leave.

your pandemonium just began as the two put on their shoes and said their goodbyes, making sure to stress to him that if he ever needed to “rant or vent”, to give them a call.

his demeanor was like a switch as soon as he shut the door, his eyes darting over to the now silent basement, jaw clenched so hard that he could’ve tore a muscle.

maybe you realized your fate, he thought as he power walked over to the door.

the scene in front of him was far from what he could have ever guessed: you were sprawled on your back, laying in a pool of your own tears. as soon as he caught sight of your injury, he put two and two together.

you fell and sprained your ankle.

a faint sigh left his lips, and he rubbed his eyes as if to erase the mess you were now in.

your sobs grew louder as jeno made his way down the steps, hoping he would gain a conscious by the time he made it down.

to your surprise, jeno didn’t pull out a knife, neither did he wrap his hands around your neck and give it a fateful squeeze.

he bent down, carefully gathering your crippled legs together. with one brief exhale, he brought one arm around the back of your neck and the other under your bundled knees. he rose up effortlessly, without any need to readjust his footing.

you winced into his chest at the feeling of your ligaments pulling apart even further from hanging in the air.

but the pain seemed to have subsided for a split second as you looked up at the man carrying you bridal style up the stairs.

blemishless skin, pink lips, long eyelashes—

you interrupted your outlandish thoughts, choosing not to label him as outwardly flawless. you could burn in hell if you ever admitted so.

—

your foot had completely mutated, like you had swapped body parts with an alien.

somehow you were alive, and that’s all that mattered.

jeno took the time to carry you to his bedroom and place you on his king- sized bed. you didn’t even need to ask for help as he swung your legs onto the semi-firm mattress.

his entire room sported a similar Scandinavian design like the rest of his house, with more plants hanging from his bedroom window.

“my foot looks disgusting…” you thought you whispered low enough under your breath, but jeno managed a chuckle as he started gathering extra pillows from his closet to elevate your swollen ankle.

it sounded foreign, but oddly comforting.

“well, you managed a pretty decent tear. just be grateful it wasn’t your achilles, or i would’ve had to take you to the doctor…”

“how long do you think?”

“mmhm, three to four weeks. as long as you don’t put unnecessary pressure, it should be pretty painless. i have some ice packs in the freezer but i need to go digging for some pain pills. do you need anything else before i go get them?”

“a glass of water and blankets please.”

“of course.” he nodded at each request, making a mental checklist and walking off in the direction of the coat closet to gather the blankets.

you scooted back in the bed, letting the headboard support you while you sat in an upright position.

it didn’t take long for him to come back with a handful of all the things you needed.

a glass of water and ibuprofen lay on the adjacent nightstand, two pillows were placed underneath your ankles, three assorted blankets were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, two ice packs were wrapped in microfiber towels, and the fully stocked bathroom was just a few steps down the hallway to the right.

you already had a brief discussion with him on needing assistance to go to the bathroom, though it left you feeling rather uncomfortable. then you thought back to him buying feminine products—maybe it was less awkward than you thought.

as the evening progressed, jeno remained by your side, scrolling through his phone on the other half of the bed. he didn’t speak much, only checking every once in a while to see if you needed to pee, too much in fact.

he quickly realized your slight annoyance from his fifth time asking, deciding to keep quiet for the rest of the night.

you finally managed to rest with your eyes closed once the ibuprofen took away some of the discomfort, and within minutes, you drifted off.

—

3 Weeks Later

—

your recovery was painless just like jeno predicted. within a week, the swelling and bruising went down.

in the second week, you were able to walk to the kitchen to heat up your own food in the microwave.

considering jeno worked from home and couldn’t leave his office space that often, you tried your best to be self-sufficient.

through it all, he continued to cook and clean, creating somewhat of a new domestic lifestyle that you never thought was possible.

once he finished work at 6pm, he would come out of his office and into his bedroom where you spent your time reading. he would always refill your glass of water and lift the ice pack to take a peek at your ankle.

you never admitted to him that you missed interpersonal relationships or profound conversation, but there was something deep within you that thought maybe he could see it in your face everytime he brought you a snack from the pantry without saying a word.

in all honesty, you were afraid to bring up anything from his past. it wasn’t like the two of you were together and you had no idea he was a murderer.

he showed his true colors from the very beginning.

every night he slept on the far half of the bed, always starting off on his back, with one hand behind his head. once he hit deep sleep, he shuffled quite a bit until he found comfort being on his side, sometimes facing you, sometimes not.

you never awoke to snoring or his body making contact with yours. most nights you would wake from a nightmare, though you did a decent job at hiding it. some nights you couldn’t handle the agony that plagued your mind, laying there crying for hours.

just when you thought jeno couldn’t hear your sublte cries, he did. but what could he do to make it better?

in the final week, jeno did some makeshift physical therapy with you, testing your range of motion while you sat on the edge of the bed.

he seemed to be in deep concentration, even making sure the room was silent so he could listen for any popping sounds that would’ve indicated more recovery time.

“i don’t know if it’s just me, but i don’t look as stiff anymore.” you said as you watched jeno gently rotate your ankle clockwise, then counterclockwise.

“you certaintly don’t feel stiff. i think we’ve done everything right so far.” jeno smiled, quite impressed with how well his methods turned out for you. he let your foot come back softly against the bed before standing up.

your breath hitched when he positioned himself in between your legs, staring down into your glossy eyes.

jeno pondered on the thought of bringing up your sleepless nights. but he didn’t know of a correct way, or if there was one at all. the only thing he could do was make sure you had access to one pain pill at a time, for if the day came that you left him, he would leave the earth too.

you had “been with him” for almost a month now, and you managed to last longer than he thought.

he admired you for that.

“will i ever know who you are?”

your voice gave out, dwindling into thin air. jeno watched as you dropped your head to conceal what dignity you had left.

he used a single finger to prop you back up, ultimately deciding if an embrace would make it better.

there’s no way it could.

—

Day 32

—

this was the worst nightmare you’ve had yet.

the scene was too vivid, too real to let go of.

reliving the day your boyfriend died ate away at your soul and spit out what sanity you had left.

each time he died, the more he spoke to you, as if he wasn’t dead.

“you see that i’m quite dead. how awful.”

though his neck had just been slit, he laid there…staring at you…speaking so monotone, so robotic.

“why do you make me experience this over and over again? wake up. wake up. wake up.” he repeated to you.

your blood-curdling screams filled the bedroom; yet another sleepless night for not only you, but jeno too.

it was only recently that you began thrashing around the bed and filling the silent room with your grief-stricken cries.

there was no trying to hide it now…the pain became too much.

jeno immediately rose out of bed, enveloping your shaken body in a full embrace, the first time that he’d ever done so.

you continued to wail as if he wasn’t there.

“where is he-i need to see him! where did you put him?!”

you continued to repeat your demands, rocking back and forth in his arms.

jeno knew what you meant, but he was sure you truly didn’t need to know. if you were this broken down from the nightmares, there was no way learning the truth could make it all better.

jeno knitted his brow as you continued to shuffle within his broad frame.

he would never admit this to you, but these past few weeks have been miserable.

he was beginning to lose hope.

spraining your ankle was probably the best thing that could’ve happened; as bizarre as that sounded.

the two of you spent so much time together, and even though jeno could tell you wanted to know more about him, there just wasn’t a right time. not yet.

his past and how he came to be was best left unsaid. not until you seemed “better”, as the heavy load of his own trauma would’ve only made it worse for you.

and now here you were, still not “better.”

within the time that you began to gain control of your breathing, jeno contemplated his decision.

he let go of your body, rubbing his eyes to adjust better to the dark room.

you watched closely as he made his way around to you and held out his hand.

for the first time, you took it.

it was if you were still dreaming, but no longer fighting your night terror.

he guided you towards the living room patio door, walking slowly enough in regards to your recently healed ankle.

you seemed to have forgotten that the backyard existed, as you were so used to being in your own purgatory. nonetheless, you were eager to see the outdoors again, yet still unsure why he was taking you there.

jeno used his non-occupied hand to push the curtains away before unlocking the sliding door, still keeping his other hand interlocked with yours.

a slight breeze hit your face as the two of you stepped onto the patio.

even in the early morning, the moon still illuminated bright against the deciduous trees swaying in the wind. petrichor emanated from the dampened grass, soothing away your stresses immediately.

being outside for even just a second made up for all the lost time you spent in captivity.

maybe this is why jeno brought you here, to finally let you experience the beauty of the outdoors again; to take your mind off the troubles of your nightmares.

you remained behind him, peaking over his shoulder to admire the forgotten land you once accustomed yourself to.

still no words were spoken as he lead the way into the yard. you continued to hold his hand, finding comfort in the creases of his palms.

he came to a stop in the middle, and appeared to have been looking down at something. you furrowed your brow as he let go of your hand, already missing the contact that kept you down to earth.

once you stepped aside to be shoulder to shoulder, you immediately realized what this was.

your wish had been granted.

in front of you were two raised patches of dirt, one seemed to have settled more than the other. it appeared that grass had been planted, in an attempt to speed up the rate of growth on the disturbed level of soil.

your world shattered—crashing into the depths of pure misery and sorrow.

you fell to your knees, the softened mud painting your pajama pants deep brown.

all the tears you could’ve cried remained back inside the house. this time, your chest felt tight, constricting any sign of emotion.

jeno remained blank, gearing up for the words that would change your life forever.

he bent down to your level, knees settling into the mud, eyes glossed over.

he waited for you to look up from the two graves, almost considering if he should do this.

you met his eyes, just as dark as the sky.

“this will probably be the last time you ever see him.”

to you, his voice barely sounded human, morphed into the monster he truly was.

you felt a surge of fight or flight—a passion to fight for your survival.

it all became a blur as you lunged forward, grabbing both sides of his chiseled face and connecting your lips to his.

you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open as you kissed him. for you knew that this way of self-preservation would haunt you if you made it out alive.

giving him what he wanted all this time, seemed to be the only logical way.

jeno welcomed your lips without falter, as if this was the answer.

his lips were soft, mending against your own like silk.

your hands remained attached to his jawline, as he trailed down to grip your waist.

he squeezed you just right, not too hard like he’d done in the past.

you wanted him to take control, to show that he could do whatever he wanted. the whimpers that escaped your lips, told him so.

the kiss never broke, as you both rose and stood under the pale moonlight. his hands traced down further, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he cupped the underside of your thighs within a single catch of your breath, to which you exhaled and whined, so gingerly.

he took your subtle detachment as an opportunity to connect your tongues, the feeling of warmth completely searing your insides.

you were too dazed to match the way his tongue explored your mouth, but the messiness ignited infatuation for how unique he tasted.

still, it could never be too much, not even the way your conjoined saliva dripped onto your tear-stained shirt.

there was no limit for how willing you were to submit.

he swallowed the whimpers that fell from your mouth, trying his hardest not to tug on your lips too harshly.

his hands pressed upwards on the back of your thighs, signaling that he craved more.

he clutched onto your ass as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

you could feel the growth in his sweatpants increase the moment your breasts made contact with his clothed chest, nipples almost meeting together in the same distance across.

you were both harmonious in your attempts to get back inside the house; just the simple action of raking your fingers through his raven locks, encouraged him to move quickly.

he managed to walk through the yard with ease, taking only a brief moment to peek behind you to ensure he didn’t trip over the entrance from the patio.

during his journey to the bedroom, you buried your face into his neck, peckering on the veins that branched out into beautiful streams of blue.

your tongue found his racing pulse just as he kneed the door open to the room.

he laid you down on the edge of the bed, choosing to return the favor and kiss along your neck.

your hands couldn’t decide on a spot to grab, so you kept them tangled in his hair.

you had to be as convincing as possible that you craved this too, but it didn’t seem that hard to do when he caressed you in all the right places.

“i’ve waited so long for this, for you…”

his voice had gone even deeper, vibrating against your collarbone as he kissed there.

he continued further, meeting your chest that so desperately needed to be exposed. his teeth tugged on your hardened nipples through your cotton shirt, earning yet another whimper that bounced off the painted walls of the bedroom.

he was dependent on your noises of pleasure, desperate to hear every sound that told him he was doing well.

just as you blinked, he lifted your shirt, with not enough patience to take it the rest of the way off. his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue every time he nipped it between his teeth.

he gave the same amount of attention to the other, swirling his wet muscle along every inch of your breasts. deep down, you wanted him to inch further towards where he deserved to be.

but you felt so sinful for thinking so.

he continued his descent, kissing along the flesh of your tummy and down to your pelvis. his eyes remained closed while doing so, as if he was already familiar with every feature of your lower body. you hadn’t even realized that he tugged your pajama pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on him, though you knew he had a look of pure bliss; excited to finally take what was his.

you jumped at the feeling of his nose resting on your clit, even rubbing it back and forth, painfully slow. he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent that was bound to get stronger once he took off your panties.

your entire body jolted from his tongue tapping your sensitive nub, causing all of your blood to rush to that spot. he poked at a faster pace, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache in your core, nor nullify the guilt you felt from actually enjoying it.

he was teasing, obviously wanting to savor every moment that had no guarantee of happening again.

“all mine…” he purposefully whispered close to your clothed heat, the spurts of air hitting your dampened panties with every unhinged word he spoke.

you wiggled your bottom half, coaxing him into giving the attention you so desperately needed.

he was receptive to your attempts, immediately hooking his hands under the seam of your panties and pulling them off in one fell swoop. you kept your arms close to your upper body as a way to console yourself for how far you let this go.

he pried your legs open wide, pushing them back so they were bent at the knee. his hands rested on top, pausing to inhale your scent once more.

you kept the view below hidden with your arms, as the sight would be too much to take in. the mere feeling of him licking a single strip with his flattened tongue, from your puckered hole all the way up to your engorged clit forced a complete sigh of relief out of your body.

you covered your mouth with your hands as a result, conflicted on whether or not you should hold it in anymore.

judging by the pause, jeno wasn’t pleased with your concealment.

“don’t fucking cover your mouth.”

he spoke right into your pussy, eyes trained on your next move. you obeyed him that easily, placing your arms down at your sides to grip the sheets.

as soon as you looked down, you were met with a sight that would ultimately defy all virtue left in your sickened world.

jeno’s eyes were locked onto you, lapping at your slick with such determination to make you cum from his mouth alone.

his hands had moved from your legs to your thighs, making sure to keep you static through it all.

he did everything right—sucking on your clit, dragging it lightly between his teeth, covering every inch of your folds with his spit.

each time he propelled his saliva onto your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but try to close your thighs around his head; all purity soiled by the way he defiled your pussy.

you knew it would only get filthier from here.

he snaked his left hand down, the pads of his thumb coming to rest on your pulsating bundle of nerves. his other hand formed a union between his fore and middle finger, making a way to your entrance.

it was evident through your prolonged captivity that jeno would feel resistance as he eased his two fingers inside. he wasn’t as slow as you hoped, but if it was for the sake of prepping, you would take what warnings he gave you.

all three of his methods worked in reducing the pressure in your pelvic floor, but you still felt as though you could never truly be ready for his cock, mentally or physically.

“you can barely take my fingers, fuck…”

he took the chance to curve his fingers inside you, creating friction as he scraped against your spot effortlessly.

your entire world was spinning, and it was just the beginning.

he was steady as he fucked you with his fingers, never once loosing sight of how ruined you were.

the squelching from your walls suffocating his digits caused his sweatpants to feel uncomfortably tight.

he couldn’t wait to stretch you full.

the denial you onced claimed, began to wash away as you felt your orgasm approaching.

his pace increased, creating a rhythm that was bound to make you crash.

“i-i cant! please!”

jeno ignored your cries, utterly content with forcing it out of you whether or not you wanted him to stop.

you grabbed a fistful of his hair again, resting your fingers in his scalp as your whole body convulsed.

constellations flooded your vision, blinding you from the reality of your guilt. you couldn’t help but grind into his face, prolonging the peak of your climax.

all but his mouth left your pussy, his hands ushering your lower body even closer.

he managed to stay latched onto your beating clit, as your body continued to spasm. he truly didn’t want to leave that spot, as he found himself completely drunk off of what you gifted him.

the amount of your juices that painted his mouth and chin, was proof.

you barely had enough core strength to lessen the impact of your legs falling against the bed as jeno rose to his feet.

he undressed himself within seconds, tossing the items of clothing inside the open closet.

all you could do was lay there and be a tool, trying your hardest not to react to the size of his cock.

there truly wasn’t anywhere he could fit, not even in your mouth if he wanted you there.

you managed to survive this far, but you were already second-guessing your chances the moment he positioned his naked body in front of you.

there was complete truth in how perfect he was—toned muscles, smooth complexion, and veins that branched out in every direction, most notably in his arms and hands.

he was the epitome of virility.

you were merely just a vessel for him to use and destroy.

“take off your shirt.”

he stroked his length, watching you fumble with the piece of clothing bunched around your neck.

as soon as you discarded it, he lifted both of your legs up, letting his shaft plop onto your wet mound. the sound was filthy, an indication of how wet you were.

he started to glide his length up and down your pussy, practically wet humping your slick as if you weren’t overstimulated from his oral assault only minutes prior. you involuntarily jerked at the contact of his tip rubbing your abused clit, watching as he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth at your undoing.

he finally let his grinding come to a halt; tip stopping right at your navel.

precum leaked inside the natural divet in your skin, forming a pool from his arousal.

“pl-please jeno…i need you.”

you no longer cared if it hurt, all that mattered was being at his complete disposal.

he listened to your desires, finally conjoining your bodies as one. the stretch was uncomfortable, burning even. but the satisfaction that followed, negated every ounce of hatred you used to feel.

you attempted to breathe through the discomfort, but all you could produce was a gasp as he eased his way further. even through the pain, you could see in his face that you were his entire world.

his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back for a second before gaining focus on your effort to accomodate his size. a line of saliva fell from his lips onto his shaft, making more of a mess than was thought possible.

you were severely uncoordinated from the intensity of your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from pulling him in for a kiss as he bottomed out. you moaned into his mouth, slurping on his tongue to taste what remained of your essence.

he furrowed his brow when you clenched down as hard as his girth would allow, sucking him further inside your cervix.

he finally took it upon himself to move, feeling resistance as he geared up to piston inside you. his hands made their way from your thighs to your neck, gripping hard enough to make a vein visibly pulse against your temple. you placed your hands on top of his, hoping he wouldn’t take that as a sign to soften his hold on your throat.

this was everything you wanted. the exhilaration of being on the brink of death, a stark contrast to how he’s made you feel before. tingling littered under where his palms squeezed, causing you to writhe in pleasure as he drilled into your pussy.

no matter how hard he squeezed, you trusted that he wouldn’t end you. not when he was completely buried in your walls, growling in your ear at how well you took his cock.

“you’re so perfect, taking my dick so well…” his words sounded muddled from the ringing present in your ears, you weren’t even sure you comprehended them correctly through the high building up inside you a second time.

you managed to let a moan escape through the restriction as he pushed both of your bodies higher on the bed, having enough skill to remain inside you the entire time.

jeno noticed your eyelids begin to flutter, a sign that you were teetering on the edge. he relished in the sight—your body slumped against him, your vocal chords attempting to produce noise but ultimately failing.

you were officially cock drunk, inebriated by how well he fucked you dumb.

even through the haze, you could see him enjoying every second, tugging on his lips to suppress the animalistic sounds brewing deep within his chest.

he finally took his hands away, allowing your senses to restore from the lack of oxygen. your chest heaved profusely, causing your back to arch as if you were being exorcized.

his stamina was still just as unwavering, never once losing rhythm. just as you gained control of your breathing, he pushed your legs back towards your head, simultaneously being in awe of your flexibility.

the sound of skin slapping hit against your eardrums with each strike, and now that there was a surge of pressure being applied to your throat from this new position, you could barely vocalize how flawless he was at hitting your spot every, single, time.

you could feel his length twitching, veins swelling, and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

your stomach tightened from the pressure against your womb, forming a wave that you were bound to drown in.

“i know you’re close…cum on my cock…fuck.” he gulped in between, trying his hardest to hide the shakiness in his voice. he was just as close as you were, ready to explode at any moment.

all it took was for him to pause and grind into you slowly.

and with it, came a cathartic release.

a string of moans finally escaped through your restriction, forming a melody for jeno to absorb in his frenzied brain.

unhinged groans fell from his lips as he emptied his seed; silken fluid overflowing and mixing with your own.

you clenched around his dick even harder than before, milking him for everything he was worth.

he stilled inside you for a while, practically putting all of his body weight on you while you remained in that position.

the back of your thighs were sure to have bruises from how long he had kept his hands there. but you wouldn’t trade those marks for the world.

you shuddered as he exited you without warning, shifting to lay by your side. even through the silence, your thoughts were loud.

he came inside you, and it was obvious that the aftermath of the situation plagued his mind too.

—

you pretended to be asleep. though jeno was a different story, which all worked in your favor. as the morning progressed, he pulled your backside into his chest, one arm resting on your waist and the other under your neck. it was a surprise to you, considering he never touched you in his sleep.

the main complication you faced now was slipping out of his arms without waking him.

you were still backed up against his front when you lifted your head to view the time.

the nightstand clock read 7:32am.

if you didn’t act soon, you would be put underground, allowing someone else to take your place and experience the same horrors as you.

you wiggled yourself to test his stimuli, no response. so you did it again, nothing.

you carefully lifted his arm that was on your waist and began to scoot towards the side of the bed. he stirred once, but not enough to fully rouse him.

the time read 7:37pm when you finally stood to your feet.

you could’ve made your way to the kitchen, but cleaning up was definitely a priority.

you treaded lightly towards the bathroom, not even bothering to bring clothes. as you stepped inside, you were met with abhorration.

the person you saw in the mirror was barely recognizable, ravaged beyond repair. and no matter how hard you scrubbed your body, it still couldn’t wash away the bruises or the remnants of jeno that had been sitting inside you for the past two hours.

hopefully by the time you got back to him, you would finally be purged of his undying affliction.

the simple action of grabbing a knife from the kitchen wasn’t so simple in your regards.

your anxiety started to rise as you entered the kitchen. there, laying on the counter, in a stainless steel holder, were your means of redemption.

it didn’t matter what kind, just as long as it cut deep enough…

the one you grabbed happened to be a paring knife; ideal for your method of use.

your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to grip thoroughly. but you managed with two hands, all the way back towards the bedroom. before jeno could potentially see you through the doorway, you switched your hands, positioning the knife behind your back.

he was still sleeping, peacefully.

the clock read 7:59am. any minute now.

you walked around to where his back was facing you; his slow and steady breathing being a complete imbalance to your racing heart.

you maintained a good grip of the knife as you slipped under the disheveled sheets, attempting to straddle him and in turn wake him up for his departure.

at first, he grimaced, wondering why his sleep was being disturbed. but once his eyes fluttered open, he smiled, blissfully unaware of your deception.

he turned onto his back so you could straddle him properly, his body heat greeting you like the sun.

he lifted his hands and started to caress your thighs, creating goosebumps along your tender skin. he seemed to be focused on the bruising, expression filled with pride at how hard he claimed you.

you fought with every fiber of your being to hold back tears as you lowered yourself onto his chest.

you met his soft lips for the last time. sealing his fate with a kiss.

you exposed the knife in your right hand before sinking it into his side, the impedance of his tough flesh trying to stop you from sinking the blade in deep.

you kept your eyes closed through it all, but you could feel his mouth open in shock.

your tears finally broke, and just as you felt them separate from your chin, you opened your eyes.

and stabbed again.

and again.

you flinched each time, waiting for a piercing cry, but there was nothing. his mouth hung open in agony, trying to produce a scream, but there was nothing.

his skin had turned pale, eyes dilated and whirling out of control. soon came the blood, painting your hands, the sheets, and his tepid skin.

you buried your face into his neck, hoping to hear his pulse slowly drift away.

instead you were met with his last words,

“you made it…”

—

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