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isawritesshit · 8 months ago

Text

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

___________________________________________________________

"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

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leclerc-hs · 11 months ago

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fille stupide pt. 3 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader / max verstappen x fem!reader Summary: in which you now kind of know French and a not so stranger is still here Warnings: smut, oral (f-receiving), angstyyyy (?), cheating (again, i'm sorry), 18+!, not proofread!!, bad French (correct me please!!), bad Dutch (correct me please!!) Word Count: 1985 Author's Note: ok so I think we'll end fille stupide here 🤭 I absolutely loved writing this (if you couldn't tell by how fast i was able to write it lmaooo). I honestly WOULD NOT mind writing more scenarios for them in the future. Like if I ever write mean dom charles, my mind will automatically come back to them. please don't forget to leave feedback! love y'all french edited by @shewantsvengeance!!! dutch edited by @deanlovescassie!!!

PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

STARTLED BY A loud bang in the kitchen, you jolt awake. The bright sun streaming through your windows blinds you as you try to make sense of the abrupt awakening and your surroundings. You were no longer naked; a large plain white t-shirt enveloped your body. A t-shirt you don’t remember even putting on or falling asleep in. A t-shirt, that’s not even yours.

Caution gripped you as you inched towards the kitchen, moving slowly down the hall. The muffled sounds persisted, their meaning elusive, while the clattering of cabinets continued. As you finally reached the corner of the hallway, you were met with the sight of a partially naked Charles in the kitchen, an array of food on the stove top cooked. The aroma of bacon and eggs wafted through the kitchen, prompting your stomach to audibly grumble in response. You leaned against the countertop across from him, just watching the muscles of his back flex with each deliberate movement. He stayed?

You let out a breath of air in relief at the sight of him. Not just because he was there and stayed, but because it wasn’t somebody breaking in.

He didn’t even turn around before saying, “Où ranges-tu tes assiettes?” Where do you keep your plates? “Oh, I found them!” He didn’t have to turn around to sense your presence; all his senses seemed attuned to your proximity. Your body called to him, like it demanded his attention. As if your cells were able to alert his own, screaming for them to merge with yours.

You felt a swirl of need form in your stomach at the sight of your scratch marks on his back. As if he was marked for your territory only. You also felt a surge of panic form in your throat as the memories of last night came flooding back.

Tell me who your body belongs to.

Je t’appartiens, Charles.

A sensation of unease churned in your stomach as thoughts of Max’s face crossed your mind. The guilt weighed heavily, and you felt on the verge of nausea for what you had done to him. How was it possible that something so bad felt so good? It was as if Charles held complete control over you, rendering you senseless and devoid of rational thoughts and actions. Tears prick at your eyes as you observe the bruises on the insides of your legs and felt the welts on your neck. Your body looks and feels both used and abused. Nothing about this situation is okay. Last night, you both had been remarkably careless.

The panic began to subside only when Charles turned around and met your gaze. His eyes, an unusually light shade of green, captured your attention. His disheveled hair hinted at just having woken up not too long ago.

“I didn’t know you stayed,” you began, confusion laced in your voice. “I heard the door shut last night.”

“Fille stupide,” Stupid girl. A smile crept on his face, carrying a mocking undertone that seemed directed at you. “I went to store to get you a pill last night. Je suis revenu.” I came back.

You despised how profoundly his words impacted you, how his return stirred a need for you to rationalize both your actions and his, even when there was no justification for what had transpired. Anxious, your fingers fidgeted with the end of the T-shirt that rested at the middle of your thighs. He advanced towards you, trapping you between him and the counter – a familiar position whenever you find yourself in his presence. His hands find their way to your face, their size enough to envelope majority of it. His fingers sprawl on your jawline, and his thumbs rest on your cheekbones as he looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. Like you’re a textbook and he has a test to study for.

“Tu es tellement belle,” You’re so beautiful. Despite his sweet words, a sinister gleam in his eyes followed the contours of your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pressed himself to you, “I meant what I said last night.”

Mine, you’re fucking mine.

The ache in between your legs was growing with each passing second. He was too close, his smell and warmth surrounding you, creating a sense of intoxication. You felt the need to press your thighs together, but Charles stood between them, smirking down at you like he knew.

Words fail you as you gaze up at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He stands there patiently, waiting as you study the furrow of his eyebrow. He stands there patiently, waiting as your eyes delve into his, memorizing every shade of color within them. He stands there patiently, waiting as your gaze fixates on his lips.

It was almost as if you didn’t have a choice. Like he was a pre-determined answer to your life. A definition to your word.

“Guess I didn’t give it to you hard enough last night, hm?” It wasn’t until your hands settle on his biceps that he realizes you’ve given him consent. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere. Roaming your body like an unexplored map; squeezing your waist, pinching your nipples, squeezing your butt. He just can’t get enough of you. “Need me to take the ache away?”

A moan escapes your lips as you yield, unable to resist him. Your body, seemingly under his command, surrenders to its desires.

His tongue presses against yours, never losing contact. He quickly flips the both of you around, pushing you until your back met the countertop of the island. With determination, he lifts you onto it, shoving anything that finds solace there, to the floor. His hands push you down, so you now lay sprawled on the counter in the center of the kitchen. You replacing the breakfast Charles had made.

“Mon dieu,” My God. He growls at the sight of your legs spread and bare for him. “Je pourrais mourir heureux.” I could die happy. You have no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Especially when his tongue met your clit, licking you as if you were the last meal on Earth and he was starving.

His two fingers slid into your heated core, curling them to brush your g-spot with every stroke. “Tellement bon,” So fucking good. He’s moaning into your pussy, sending you into oblivion.

“Putain de salope.” Fucking dirty slut. He manages to mumble in between your legs, the vibration of his words pushing you closer to the edge.

Around his fingers, you clench. You revel in the feeling of him in you, no matter what or how it’s done. Your fingers clench in his hair, it’s longer than the first time you met, tugging to anchor yourself. His hands on you are equivalent to an out of body experience. You could never tire of it.

“You like that?” Yes! You wanted to yell. You more than liked it. You loved it.

It wasn’t until his other hand, the one not inside of you, groped one of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, that you went flying over the edge, relishing in the waves of pleasure as he continues to thrust his fingers in you – coaxing you through the orgasm.

His mouth is hot on you, swallowing anything you’ll give him. Your legs shake, his mouth on you becoming too much as you squirm until he stops and looks at you, his lips glossy and coated.

“Tellement foutrement doux,” So fucking sweet. He murmured as he pulled you up, holding you in an upright position to look at him. You still don’t know what he’s saying, but you didn’t care. Your ears were ringing as you came down from your high, feeling limp against the hands of Charles.

You shut your eyes as you began to feel the panic surge. You gave in, again. He peppered small kisses to your neck, almost too softly, a stark contrast from how he treats you in the midst of sex. He was soft with you now -- tender. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. As if sensing your panic, Charles tips your chin to look at him.

“Cherie, you are made for me.” You feel the panic claw at your throat, constricting you, and the tears begin to spill from your eyes. “Don’t you see?”

You did see it. You could see it clear as day. After all, there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t on your mind since the first encounter. You don’t understand what’s happening to you. How could you betray Max like this? He didn’t deserve it, and you didn’t deserve him. It feels like there’s no choice when it comes to Charles. It’s as if your body responds instantly to his mere gaze. He’s the batteries, and you’re the remote control. Completely useless without its batteries.

You knew you had to tell Max. You couldn’t bear to hurt him any further. You observed Charles begin to furrow his eyebrows in frustration as he sensed you withdrawing from him. The sight pained him, and it hurt to witness.

“I need to tell Max,” You started, but were quickly cut off by a voice.

“Tell Max what?”

You felt your heart stop and face flush red, as none other than Max stood just a few feet away in the entry way of your home, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a spare key to your apartment in the other. Time seemed to slow down as you observed Max’s eyes darting between the proximity of you and Charles. There you were, perched on the counter, with Charles standing between your legs. Your cheeks flushed red as you sat with nothing but Charles t-shirt on your body. The kitchen island was wiped clean, everything scattered on the floor. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension.

He didn’t even speak. He simply dropped the flowers and spare key on the entry way table and turned around, heading for the door. You shoved Charles out of the way, running towards the door. Running towards Max.

“Please, I can explain,” you were shouting. Completely panicked. But really, there was nothing to explain. It was clear as day, all cards laid out on the table in front of Max’s eyes.

“You don’t need to explain.” He scoffed, his jaw clenched in anger, as his eyes bounced from you, standing in front of him, to Charles, who remained planted in the kitchen. “Ik ben er klaar mee.” I’m done. He spoke in his native tongue, knowing you understood.

“Ik walg van je.” You disgust me. His words were sharp, stabbing you where it hurt most. He couldn’t even look you in the eye as he stepped out of the apartment as fast as he could.

You convince yourself that something has to be wrong with you. You were so mad that you did this. So mad that you hurt Max. But still, despite it all, everything with Charles feels so right.

Tears spilled hotly from your eyes, falling to the floor as you sobbed into your hands. Charles hurried over, lifting you to your feet and cradling you in his arms. Swiftly, he carried you to your bed, gently placing you on the covers. Pulling you into his chest, he held you tightly, providing comfort and solace.

“Je te protégerai.” I’ll keep you safe. Charles mutters into the nape of your neck, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry into him. “Tu es faite pour moi.” You’re meant for me.

You cried for what felt like hours. Charles only continued to whisper sweet nothings to you as he held you. You cried until you were limp with exhaustion, eyes closing, surrounded in the warmth of Charles. You didn’t deserve it.

“I will be here when you wake up, Cherie.” ----------- sorry max, you need to lose something 🤭

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kinokappe · 5 months ago

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࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙ ⪩⪨ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚

Sweet Girl

Pairing: Ghost x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mean Ghost (slight), degradation (slight), name calling, rough, P in V sex

⚠️ NSFW UNDER CUT, MDNI⚠️

You were being a brat, whining and pouting at Ghost, teasing him until he eventually got frustrated and pushed you away. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, and here you were, following him into the room and disturbing the silence he craved.

"Stop being a fucking brat, yeah princess?" He growled into your ear, driving his cock so deep into your pussy, the rough drag of his fat cock eliciting erotic, almost pornographic squelching from your abused cunny.

He held your hips up, his dick slamming into your ass unforgivingly. "Do you like this, huh? Bratty bitch who doesn't know how to behave..." He grumbled, his hand smoothing over your back and down to your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen harshly, letting you feel every drag of his cock.

"'S too much Si, I.. I can't!" You whimper as your vision goes blurry, tears of pleasure brimming in the corner of your eyes as you feel another orgasm start to form, but he's unrelenting.

His hand trails lower between your legs, his calloused fingertips rolling and pinching at your puffy clit, smearing your wetness over your sensitive folds. "You feel so good, baby... So tight for me... Last one, I promise, luv.." he whispered, biting your ear and causing a shiver to run up your spine.

His earlier aggressive, rough demeanor melted when he felt your pussy clamp down on him, his thrusts turning sloppy and needy as he neared his own orgasm. He couldn't help the desperate way he circled your clit, his dick twitching inside you eagerly, ready to spill his load.

"I'm gonna come~ please, please don't stop~!" Your throat goes dry as you scream for him, the squelching sounds from your pussy sinful and erotic. The bed creaked loudly under the both of you and you can feel him grip your hip tighter, his other hand applying pressure on your clit.

His eyes are half-lidded, dark and lustful as he finally pushes you over the edge, his thick, bulbous cockhead pushing in deep until he kisses your cervix, eliciting a loud moan of his name from your pretty lips. Your juices coat his entire length, white, sticky and creamy as he continues to pump into you, two, three more times until you feel his hot cum cost your walls.

It's warm, filling you up until his spend is leaking from the sides. "You're so pretty... Such a good girl for me" she whispers, collapsing in top of you and caressing your sides. You're speechless to say the least, breathless and tired from the many orgasms he had pulled for you.

He wraps his arms around you, shifting your position so you were snuggled into his chest. You fell asleep cuddled in his arms, legs draped over one another as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, rubbing your back soothingly with praise that you did good.

"Don't be such a brat next time, sweet girl... Unless you want me to keep punishing you"

A/n: this was so quick y'all 😞😞 sorry for the lack of posts, was taking a small break since I just graduated LMAO. I will be posting more 😋😋

#simon ghost riley #ghost #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #cod #ghost cod #ghost cod smut #ghost smut #cod smut #smut fanfiction #cod modern warfare

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claymoresword · 11 months ago

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Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder.

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm.

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage.

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries.

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

In truth, you were far from alright.

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that.

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl.

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest.

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable.

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you.

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.”

Your brother appears less than convinced, you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away.

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence.

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment.

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner.

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand.

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her.

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt.

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs.

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over.

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold.

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei.

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly.

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers.

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath.

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist.

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her.

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity.

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores.

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life.

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart.

You would have been happy.

In another life.

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room.

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time.

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her.

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire.

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days.

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you.

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch.

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress.

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug.

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly.

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond.

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance.

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her.

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave.

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other.

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her.

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process.

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words.

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen.

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

#cersei lannister smut #cersei x reader #g!p reader #cersei lannister #ned stark #stark reader #fem stark reader #ned stark x reader #catelyn stark #g!p

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ratcash-wasgud · 8 months ago

Text

Sorry, I'm frustrated again. I have to write this out.

But let's just like...talk. You and me.

So, Blue Eye Samurai is supposed to be about this strong, undefeatable woman, finding the men who wronged her, struggling with herself and her trauma, and basically becoming a legend, right?

So...tell me, why, we as a fandom decided, that the best person she could end up with, was the guy who told her to kill herself when she was at her lowest, who made her childhood hell, who STILL calls her a dog??

...

Why though? Because he's the only man who was written to be conventionally attractive? So, a jawline is enough to look past clear abuse? Mhm.

"No, bc he changed." ???

The last time they spoke in the first season, (if I remember correctly) ended up with him having a boner, then calling Mizu a demon before storming off.

I don't want to offend people, really, this fandom is lovely but...

I kinda feel like some of y'all only see looks. If Taigen and Ringo would swap roles, I'm sure none of y'all would like the ship anymore.

I'm sorry, really, I'm usually not one to trash ships, but this one is just wrong to me. And the fact that there are clear signs in the show that they wanna make this canon?? Makes me want to drop the whole show.

I know this sounds really dramatic, but this is eating my brain. Like, it genuinely gives me distress when I think about the fact that those two could be canon one day.

Bc I know, the show's creators are a couple. Obvi, they will end up writing a straight couple to win in the end. So this is reason I'm probably not gonna tune in for the second season. I'm afraid shit gets ruined.

(this is also the reason why I've been inactive. kinda lost motivation to write or do work for bes. but i'm on my way to finding motivation and will again.)

(lol.)

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #taizu #taizu hater for life #bes taigen

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teaxeee · 8 months ago

Text

One more - Seok Matthew x Fem!Reader

Member - Seok Matthew (ZB1)

Genre - Smut (Minors DNI)

Word count - 771

Warnings - fingering, slight choking, pet names (baby, pretty), overstimulation, slight praising

Notes - This is my first time writing full on smut, am so sorry if it's not good AND I'M A BIT NERVOUS IF Y'ALL WOULD LIKE IT. Anyways, enjoy!! Also: credits to @cyberkunizz for the header <3

No wonder you were distracted the whole day…way too distracted as you kept staring at his hands. The veins popping out at the back of his hand, all the way to the inner side of his forearm, it felt way too distracting. Most likely the reason you kept tracing your fingers along the veins of his hands every time his hand was close to reach, and he knew. It was way too obvious how focused you were on his hands and his hands alone, the way you kept glancing at his hands, the way you licked your lips and rubbed your thighs, your arousal being noticeable.

That’s how you ended up in your shared bedroom, legs spread open, your back pressed up against his chest as you leaned on him, both of you fully naked. His middle and ring finger sliding inside your already wet pussy, starting to thrust slowly as he feels you clench around his fingers, already making them wet as he speeds up his movements, his thumb gently rubbing your clit as you struggle to keep your legs open. You close your legs, your thighs trapping his hand between them, feeling the veins on the back of his hand brush against your inner thighs as he keeps moving his fingers, already causing your sensitivity to show up.

"Come on, keep your legs open for me, baby." He says softly as he keeps thrusting his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit as you start rutting your hips against his hand, making him smirk. His other hand slides up to your neck, gripping it firmly as he starts to choke you but not enough to hurt you, forcing your head up to face the mirror and watch how his fingers disappear inside you with each thrust.

Your eyes start to close and you lean your head back on his shoulder, while you let out a small whine. He applies more pressure on your neck, trying to make you look in the mirror again. “Open your eyes for me pretty…want you to keep watching.” He whispers softly, his thumb still rubbing your clit as he feels your thighs start to quiver. You whimper softly and squirt hard, coating his fingers and the bed sheets.

“Woah…never knew you’d squirt this much.” He teases, still thrusting his fingers inside you, causing you to whimper. He doesn’t stop and he doesn’t plan to stop as he keeps rubbing your clit, adding too much to the sensitivity you’re feeling.

“Matthew stop…can’t take it anymore.” You beg and whimper, while he only scoffs in response, as he keeps thrusting his fingers, his ego clearly boosted due to causing you to squirt.

“I don’t think I will…you can do one more for me baby, yeah?” He coaxes you, more like forcing you to let him continue, as he thrusts his fingers faster, slipping another finger inside and stretching your already abused pussy more, making you take more than you could handle.

He enjoyed ruining you, he enjoyed the way you tremble with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, moans and whines escaping past your lips as you kept begging him, he wouldn’t let up. He loved the sounds that escaped past your lips, becoming obsessed with the idea to make you squirt again and again. He loved that he was the only one that could make you feel like this, make a mess out of you and ruin you, just for his own pleasure.

He watches you squirt again, noticing how your back arched from the stimulation, how your eyes rolled back, your lips being parted as you let out small gasps and whines while gripping his hand, trying to make him stop, but he doesn't. He keeps thrusting his fingers, relishing the way your body trembled from his touch.

He finally stops after noticing how your body went limp, your breathing becoming more heavier as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly removes his fingers, noticing how coated they are with your wetness. His free hand moves to your stomach, his fingers starting to rub it soothingly.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He coos softly and kisses your neck gently, as he watches you starting to calm down. He helps you lay down on the bed and gets up, as he quickly goes to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wetting it. He comes back in the room and cleans you up, making sure to be gentle with you. He puts the towel back in the bathroom and lays down next to you, as you both cuddle to sleep.

#zb1 hard hours #zb1 smut #zb1 hard thoughts #seok matthew smut #matthew smut #zerobaseone smut #seok matthew hard hours #seok matthew x reader #zerobaseone hard hours

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ronearoundblindly · 7 months ago

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Kissing, lighting and sleepy sex for Hideout Steve and Reader?

I am not prepared. My feels...they shall be too deep and endless. I shall try anyway.

From this dirty ask game for this AU series where Nomad Steve lets motel-employee!Reader soothe his touch-starved body. Lawd, halp me, this is about to get crunk in a tooth-rotting, put-some-pillows-beneath-you you're-gonna-faint type o' way. [y'all can't tell I drank during the eclipse today, right? I'm subtle? Cool.] MINORS DNI.

K - Kissing

ACK My heart! Or rather, there is something deeply adoring for Steve when you kiss his chest, over his heart. It makes him feel just that much more like a person who lives in this world, who belongs in this world, who will return one day to this world...

His hands are also a big one--no, not just actually big hands, but important to show love to because he uses them for such violence. Each kiss is like a little touch of forgiveness for what he's done or had to do with those hands. He appreciates the trust it takes, too, to kiss his palms, when he could easily stop you breathing (sorry, that sounds dark, but Nomad was in a dark place, okay, bad things occur to him now).

Steve loves to kiss your stomach, and it might be somewhat taboo to say, but he has a touch of that crawl-back-home-for-safety comfort thing going on when he presses close and holds your center to him. It's not a mommy kink or roleplay, per se; he relishes the connectedness of being one and curling up against you is the only non-sexual way he knows how to achieve that--like in Chapter 3 when he falls asleep in that position.

As far as leaving marks though? Steve can emphatically say 'hell no,' not on purpose. Pain is a bit, meh, weird for him because he heals so quickly. He might not even notice if you did bite or bruise him. He certainly wouldn't see it in the morning. He does not in any way associate marks with love or affection since he only ever saw them on himself after fights or on women (including his Ma) after being abused.

That is not love to Steve.

It's control, it's dominance, it's inequality, and he fucking hates it.

L - Lighting

Steve entirely defers to you on whether there are actual lights on or off. He likes to use his senses to explore and enjoy you, so without light is fine. He's just here for you.

Steve does, however,--no spoilers for Chapter 5--like ambiance such as candles or something dim and colorful. He thinks you'd look unbelievably perfect beside a sparkling Christmas Tree. He hopes to celebrate (all holidays and birthdays and everything) openly with you some day. The sooner the better.

(Except, no audience for him making love to you under those twinkling lights, please. He's staunchly opposed to that sort of thing.)

S - Sleepy Sex

So, again, no spoilers for Chapter 5, but once Steve gets comfortable with oral sex he is comfortable with oral sex, if you catch my drift.

If he wakes up first, he's on you in some way, arms and legs draped over you, kissing any place he can get to, man-handling you just enough to start something he 100% will finish. He's just...uh god, so attentive.

With the super senses and being a fugitive though, it's not often that you can wake up before him, truly, which limits or completely removes the ability to surprise him with a blowjob, but he will dreamily let you roam wherever your mouth and hands take you. As long as there's lots of contact. As much as possible really. Like lay your arms across his thighs and abs while playing with him. Maybe put your body over one of his legs and ride his foot if you need to. He must feel attached in some way. Cold, distant, or separated does not do it for him.

Here's my absolute, I-will-die, favorite thing about Hideout Steve though: when he's tired/fatigued/worn out/sleepy, he gets louder.

Much. Much. Louder, babes.

No cursing, mostly, but all the moans and groans and whining are totally dialed up. And I don't know about y'all, but I can't really think of anything fucking sexier than Nomad Steve screaming that he's gonna come.

🥵

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Here lies Ro in a puddle. She made up a man she wants and will never have.

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #hideout series #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #dirty asks #ask game

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sawbathroomlovers · 29 days ago

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Kinktober Day 5: Rough Sex (Mark Hoffman x Reader)

A/N: Two posts in one day? You know it. I'm so close to being caught up on Kinktober, but it's been a slow process. And surprise, surprise. Still on the Saw train. Here's another Mark Hoffman for y'all. As usual, MINORS DNI! And enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Word Count: 371

“You think that little stunt you pulled was funny?”

Mark’s hips snap against your ass while his fingers grasp with a bruising grip against your hips. A broken moan falls from your parted lips, muffled by the pillow against your face.

“I-I’m sorry!”

He growls at that, and he gives a particularly hard thrust to continue his punishing pace - cock sliding in and out of your wet walls.

“Sorry? Sure you fucking are.”

His tone is condescending, mocking. What had been a little fun at the local bar you had dragged Mark to turned into this. And all because you had started a conversation with one of the men in the group next to you. But you couldn’t help the way you clenched around his hard cock at having him like this: possessive and unhinged. His harsh thrusts have the fat of your ass rippling and your body slowly inching across the bed as you try to steady yourself with twitching fingers against the sheets.

You yelp when one of his large hands connects with an asscheek, the skin stinging as you swear you’ll have a handprint left there that’ll last for the next couple of days.

“M-Mark!”

“Oh, so now you’re saying my name? Little fucking slut…”

Another slap lands across your ass as you cry out, back arching and hips rolling back to meet his thrusts despite the pain in your backside. If anything, it only turned you on more. The thought of that has your cheeks burning hot and shooting straight to your core. Mark grunts at the feeling of you getting tighter around him, his pace only faltering slightly before picking up the speed - the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the heated air of the bedroom.

One of Mark’s hands grasps at your hip to keep you in place while the other settles on the back of your neck to push you down, your back arching further as the side of your face presses against the pillow beneath your head. Sweat trickles down his temple, and he gives a squeeze - causing you to cry out while he abuses your sweet little cunt.

“You better keep saying my fucking name and my name only… You understand?”

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman #mark hoffman saw #kinktober 2024 #saw #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #smut #horror #saw franchise #slasher smut #slasher fucker #slashers #slasher fandom

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ghostsandfools · 3 months ago

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Solar and Lunar's Relationship is so Underrated

Alright. I already typed out like a whole essay about this in one of my friends dms (I am so sorry you had to read all that-) but I decided to post an even LONGER essay here! Because I can :]

Solar and Lunar are just... Just the best. I love them. SO MUCH.

Lunar:

Lunar was the first person that Solar met from the main dimension. Lunar was obviously terrified of Solar at first, considering he looked and sounded just like Eclipse, but I love how Solar treats him when they first meet. He says "I don't know how anyone could hate you" and "I know I'm not your Eclipse. but you're not a mistake" and is just super sweet in general. It's been a while, but I recommend y'all go back and watch that episode, it's "What if Eclipse isn't evil?! In VRCHAT" and it's genuinely so so adorable.

It took a while for Lunar to get used to Solar, but Solar was patient with him the whole time and I love that. He understood why Lunar was scared of him and was just as sweet as possible until Lunar could feel comfortable around him.

One thing I think is interesting is that when Lunar went in Solar's head, he saw the memory of Solar killing his Moon. I don't think he saw the exact moment when Solar shot him, but from the fact that Solar was still alive and had never told anyone about it, he could probably infer what happened. He knows it happened, but he never held it against him. He never told anyone, he never blamed Solar or called him a murderer, because at that point he knew he wouldn't hurt someone without a reason. He knew Solar was trustworthy.

I think it's nice how their friendship was developed more in the background. Solar and Moon were always 'the besties', always spending time together, working on projects together, and it was the same way with Earth. But even though Solar and Lunar never spent as much time with each other, I feel like they understood each other better than anyone else. Their friendship was special, even if it wasn't as prominent.

When Lunar killed Eclipse, Solar showed him the same patience and care and kindness that he's always shown. Earth was scared of him, Gemini was angry at him, but Solar understood exactly what he was going through, because he'd been there once himself. And just like Lunar didn't judge him, he never judged Lunar.

Solar:

In his home dimension, Solar didn't really have anyone that he could trust. His Moon and Sun BOTH died. In the episode he was introduced in, he explained that during the separation or sometime after, his Moon passed away, and the version we saw who tried to kill him was a copy of his Moon with the same memories. I wonder if that's why he's so unwilling to except what happened to Nexus, because he's seen it all before. And I wonder if maybe this will become a pattern, and what happened to his Sun will end up happening to ours?

Anyways. Solar had to come to the main dimension because his Moon tried to kill him and scrap him for parts and was just being an abusive asshole in general. It does remind me of Eclipse and Lunar. Solar was just a byproduct to his Moon, a useless machine he could use for extra labor, and when Solar wasn't useful to him anymore, he tried to scrap him for parts, desperate to get back his Sun, his star. In a way, I think Solar sees himself in Lunar. That's why they understand each other so well.

When Solar killed his Moon, he didn't tell anyone. I really wonder if that'll ever get brought up again, because he and Lunar have both been hiding it for so long. I can't imagine the guilt he'd feel afterwards, even if it was justified.

I'm going to talk about self harm now, so if you're sensitive to the topic, just scroll past this pink section.

Now, this might be me projecting, because i used to self harm and in a way, I see myself in both Lunar and Solar. But I can see the signs in both of them. Both of them, at this point, have got to have some kind of self worth issues. Constantly being told you're worthless is going to critically damage your self esteem, and it's clear that it's taken some kind of toll on them.

Solar is always working, constantly, and I think that's for two reasons. The first it to distract himself, of course, but i wonder if he's trying to prove himself. He wants to prove to his family that he IS worth something and that they don't need to punish him or scrap him for parts because he IS useful.

And Lunar is the same way. He hasn't shown as many signs, but he's had a lot of pressure on him since he came back. He feels like he has to be good with his powers, to keep both him and his family safe. He has quite literally got the entire world on his shoulders, with Rez threatening him and Taurus threatening him and worst of all, the looming threat that Gemini will probably never speak to him again if he can't master his powers, that's A LOT.

They're both dealing with a lot, and being constantly overwhelmed like that can drive a person to hurt themself. It's more of a headcanon with Lunar, but I could see it being canon for Solar. Like in one of the recent episodes where he was talking to Jack and said "Break the habit Solar- I mean, break the habit Jack!" I wonder if that's what he could be referring to? Idk, let me know what you think.

Okay, I'm done talking about that now. Anyways. When Solar died, Lunar didn't really react. Earth screamed and cried, Nexus went insane, but Lunar didn't really react. And looking at things from a surface level, you could say it's because he and Solar weren't as close, but i don't think that's really true. Lunar said he didn't really feel strongly about it, but how could he? With how much trouble his own emotions cause him in the past, how could he possibly? Maybe he didn't want to lose control of his powers again, maybe he didn't want Earth to be scared of him again. And everyone around him was already so sad, he needed to be stable so they didn't have to worry about him too. But just because he didn't have an outwards reaction, that doesn't mean he didn't care. That doesn't mean he didn't grieve, it doesn't mean it didn't effect him.

Sadly, we haven't seen Lunar's reaction to Solar's return yet, because youtube decided to chaunce around and be stupid, but I'm excited to see how he feels about the whole thing.

I have a little theory/prediction for you all before I end things off. Lunar got star power because he was rebuilt in space. Eclipse's lab was apparently next to the sun.... Maybe Solar will get star power as well? It would make sense, why should he not? He was rebuilt in space as well. It would be dumb if he didn't. Their lives are very parallel to each other after all, even their names.

Anyways. That's enough chauncing about from me, I've got to get to school. But let me know what you guys think! Are Solar and Lunar best duo 2024? Will Solar get star powers? Will the be fire themed and cool as fuck if he does? Does Solar is gay??????? I guess we'll have to wait and find out.

(Jesus Christ, you are DEDICATED, I don't know how you made it this far. If i saw a tumblr post this long, I would not have the patience to read it, you get a gold star for coming all this way ⭐)

#tsams #sun and moon show #sams #laes #the lunar and earth show #laes lunar #tsams lunar #tsams solar #sams solar #sams lunar

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jellybeanium124 · 3 months ago

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Do you legitimately think men don't harass women in bathrooms? Like genuinely? Cause I can tell you right now, my middle and high school had shared bathrooms and the boys absolutely fucking harassed the girls all the fucking time.

To make fun of them when they heard period product wrappers and to make sex jokes.

I'd love to live in your world where people avoid eye contact in bathrooms 100% of the time, but alas, some of us live in the real world.

You not having a shitty experience with a predator or an abuser doesn't mean others have never experiences such.

I'm sorry that happened to you and I am aware this thing happens sometimes.

on an unrelated note, trans women are women. they aren't men. and they are much, much more likely (MUCH MORE!!!!!!!) to be assaulted than do the assaulting.

on a third unrelated note, you can go into whatever bathroom you want because there are no bathroom police. I (cis woman) have gone into multi-stalled men's bathrooms multiple times and nothing happened. I did not cross dress in order to do it. I didn't have to! because there are no bathroom police. I especially did not have to go thru the mega-hassle of getting T or doing any other sort of medical transition. I walked in there, boobs boobing, hair long, no make-up, and did my business and left. crazy how you can just like, walk thru doorways, huh. that's always the thing that gets me about your arguments. you can go into whatever bathroom you want, and so can everyone else, and the only thing stopping you are societal rules we impose on ourselves. there is no potty police. no bathroom brigade. no privy vigilantes. no can commanders. no facility fighters.

on a fourth unrelated note (brought to you by innuendo studios), you are falling for the conservative framework where bad things either happen, or they don't. school shootings happen or they don't. people either die from preventable illnesses or they don't. sexual assaults either happen or they don't. therefore there's no point to doing anything about it because you can't regulate evil. or, really, you can't regulate all evil. there is no world where every single assault, shooting, death from preventable illness, or whatever doesn't happen. you are leaving absolutely no room for scale. if one woman gets assaulted in the bathroom, then assaults happen and we all need to fear the penis!!!! when that's just not the world we live in. penises are not evil contraptions of the devil constantly trying to penetrate you. most people, regardless of gender, do not give a shit about you. most people mind their own damn business. nobody is out to get you. men are not constantly thinking about preying on you. they're probably thinking about football. or work. or music. or their kids. or shopping they need to do. or about their blorbos. or about plans this saturday they're looking forward to. or a million billion things that have absolutely nothing to do with you, some stranger they will never see again.

I'm not saying we should all go walk down strange dark alleyways at night hugging the wall but like... I am really genuinely sorry if you spend all your time afraid and angry. I've perused terf blogs on occasion. all y'all are afraid and angry all the time. and sure, that's just a tumblr blog. idk what you do offline. but anyways, you don't have to be afraid and angry all the time. you shouldn't be in a community that constantly affirms your worst fears in order to keep you afraid and angry. terfs prey on hurt, confused, scared women and tell them "yes, all men are evil!" and "yes, you are valuable just for being a woman!" and suck them into this ideology of hate (ironically this sentence is also a borrowed observation from the alt-right playbook, and maybe the fact that your movement does the same thing to you as the alt-right does to vulnerable, hurt, confused, and scared cishet white men should be a red flag but idk).

maybe that just sounds patronizing. but I mean it. you really don't have to be afraid and angry all the time.

but if you send me any more asks especially if they're nastier you're getting blocked.

#tw transphobia

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orbitariums · 5 months ago

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christopher moltisanti x black! reader (snippet) as promised literally LAST YEAR... i know my people are still waiting on it i'm so sorry for leaving yall hanging, gays can u ever forgive me?

this is a SNIPPET of the shit i literally started last week... there's room for improvement and hopefully this will force me to finish this. also if any of y'all are also into challengers, i've got some patrick zweig and art donaldson (x black reader) fic posted and more incoming ehehehe.

anyway. set in like s3/s4, when christopher was working in an office (completely blanking on when that actually was but you'll have to forgive me i literally started this last summer (and still haven't finished the sopranos because i am notoriously slow at finishing tv shows))

cappuccino w/ extra cream | christopher moltisanti x black!reader

contains: smut, mentions of racial tension, christopher is NOT an abusive racist in this sopranosverse <3

You and Christopher Moltisanti were not a predictable match. It was only by chance that you met, while he was ordering lunch at the bodega you worked at after he had scored a hit in your neighborhood. He knew better than to come back, especially just for you, but he did. Over and over he came in, ordering a turkey and cheese on a roll with extra relish, shoving an inappropriately large tip in the tip jar just for you— just enough times until you caved in and let him take you out to dinner.

Of course, your family had a fit, and you didn’t even want to think about what Christopher went through with his crew when it came time to finally tell them about his forbidden love life. But all of the ruckus had died down, and now between the two of your crews was this unspoken, stifled agreement that they would let this union exist in peace. It was the 90s for god’s sake, and Christopher was a stubborn mule.

Once he knew what he wanted, there was no backing down, even if it made him look like an idiot to those whom he served. And by god, did he want you. He was obsessed with you. Always wining and dining you, showing you off without shame. Of course, you two had been through your ups and downs, but Christopher treated you right. You were probably the first woman he’d treated right, the first he cared for unconditionally. No pains in sight except those he took to spoil you and cherish you beyond the diamonds and Versace pumps he gifted you. Even Paulie could respect it, along with the rest. It’s partially why they left it alone, and even smiled and shook your hand when you showed up on his arm. He thought about you every waking moment, he was positively lovestruck.

It was a slow day at the office. Already Christopher had to reprimand Thing One and Thing Two for trying to intimidate the new guy. He was secluded now in his office, scrolling aimlessly on his chunky desktop computer when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, baby!” came your voice, tinkling like bells in his ear and positively soaring through the room from the other side of the door.

Christopher stood up, standing straight as if he’d just downed a shot of espresso, and he had to physically resist flinging himself at the door for the sake of the guys outside who were watching him. He opened it, first looking past you and glaring at the guys who had frozen on their phones and computers, gaping at the sight of you being let into Christopher’s office. Like they’d never seen anybody before.

“What are you jerkoffs looking at?” Christopher barked. “Get back to work!”

Immediately resumed the punching sounds of typing and the drawls of the sleazy salesmen on the phone with their poor customers. As if it were nothing, Christopher retreated back, facing you with a broad, charming smile.

“YN, baby… what are you doin’ here?” he asked, that dopey lover boy tinkle sneaking into his voice, which always did anytime he talked to you. He sounded like a completely different person— like the Chris he might have been if he weren’t born into the family he was born into. He took your arms into his hands, caressing them gently, softly smiling. “Here, come in.”

He opened the door wide enough for you to come in, glared at everyone once again when you walked past, and then closed it, clicking the door locked. Not that anyone would try to come in unannounced anyway.

“Wanted to see you, that’s all,” you smiled, plush lips pressed against one another. “Got off work early, got you a capp and chocolate biscotti. Extra creamy, just how you like it.”

You sat down at the chair opposite his desk, setting down two coffee cups and a crinkly paper bag. Christopher felt like he was dreaming. His discontent seemed to fade away now that you were here— bright colors replaced the dull dram palette of his lonely office and he only had eyes for you. The smell of creamy espresso wafted towards him, mingling with the praline swirls of perfume that glided off of your pressure points. He was in Heaven— he was sure of it. All of his senses were overwhelmed by beauty when he was around you.

“My girl. Always so sweet,” Christopher picked up a cup and sat down in his desk chair across from you. He pried open the lid and took a deep sniff, all the while maintaining the most tantalizing eye contact with you, both of you staring at each other with smirking smiles painted on your lips.

“Go on, drink it,” you prompted him, unable to hide the smile from your voice.

“What, I can’t look at you instead?” Christopher crooned back. “C’mere. Come, sit on my lap. Sitting across from me, what are you, a client?”

You shook your head, laughing at Christopher’s incessant demands to always be close to you, always be looking at you. He was always touchy-feely and lovey-dovey. His affinity for physical touch lurked not so far beyond the cold mobster exterior. You got up anyway, slinked over to him, and sat. One leg crossed over the other, the skin of one thigh sinking into the other. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his chin into your shoulder, gazing up at you.

“Your hair looks nice,” Christopher commented, gently grabbing a handful of your fresh auburn-colored braids and stroking his hand through the gaps.

“Oh, thank you,” you snaked a hand through your hair, tilting your head so you could see Christopher better.

“You go to that salon? Put it on my card?”

“Of course, baby. Thank you,” you smiled coyly, kissing his cheek with a loud smack.

“You just tell me anytime you need to get your hair done. With you, it’s every two weeks, but I can’t complain.”

You snickered,

“Yeah, until I make you sit there and wait for me for six hours to get some braids.”

“I dunno how you do it. You’ve got patience like nobody else,” Christopher replied, pushing some of your braids to the other side.

“We have patience like no other.”

Christopher looked down at your skirt— a tight pencil skirt that matched the brown hues of your skin and hugged your curves nicely. You matched it with a blazer and a white blouse. You looked so sexy and professional, and elegant.

“And this skirt,” Christopher continued, layering on the compliments with a renewed curiosity, the kind of curiosity that wanted to know what was under the skirt. His hands, rough and large, found their way onto your lap and your thigh. His hands, marred and toughened from his profession, felt nothing like your buttery smooth skin, but still, you found yourself melting into his touch. Your wispy lashes brushed against your cheek as your eyes fluttered slightly closed.

“Burberry. You like it?” you bit down on your lip, giving him doe eyes as you craned your neck to coo at him.

A deep smirk set on Christopher’s lips and his thick brows rose slightly. His hands left your body for only a moment to raise up in the air as if considering the question, then they were right back where they belonged,

“Do I like it? I wanna fuck you with it on.”

Your mouth dropped.

“Christopher!” you enunciated each syllable, glaring back at him with twinkling, faux scandalized wide eyes.

“What? I can’t be honest anymore?” Christopher asked, his words beginning to sound muffled as he pressed his lips against your neck ever-so-gently, but enough so that you could feel it. “I’m Catholic. Lying is a sin.”

“What’re you doing, Chris?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes amusedly. You wouldn’t keep up this facade for long, but he would play along and break down your walls.

“You smell so fucking good,” Christopher practically inhaled your scent, his big nose pressed against the nape of your neck. “You got more of this stuff?”

You frowned slightly, remembering that you were savoring the last of it,

“I’m almost out.”

“I’ll get you more,” Christopher replied immediately. “Make that your signature scent.”

You chuckled at Christopher’s insistence, his matter-of-fact way of speaking about certain things. Not controlling, but honest about what he wanted.

“Okay, I will,” you grinned.

Christopher pushed away your braids so that one side of your neck was completely bare for him to continue peppering kisses upon. It was clear to you that he wanted more than just this, as sweet as it was. And you wanted it too, but not without teasing him first.

“I want you right now,” Christopher said, a certain desperation tinged in his voice that only you could provoke. He knew he’d have you, and could have you… but still, every time, he seemed to rescind into this character of the enthralled lover boy who didn’t quite have the girl. Like he was still ordering sandwiches from the other side of the counter and telling you to keep the change.

“Christopher! You’re at work. What if someone hears?”

Christopher snorted through his nose,

“I don’t give a fuck. ‘Sides, only thing those jerkoffs can hear is the sound of their own

mouth-breathing.”

You giggled, but half-heartedly, trying to catch your breath. Christopher wasn’t the only one who was defenseless in this relationship. You wouldn’t be able to guess it right away, but he had you wrapped around his finger too, right along with his Cuban ring. Everything he did positively enraptured you, even if it made him dangerous. But when you were with him, everything was swathed in the softest fabrics, and the air smelled of fresh linen and fields of flowers. None of the blood and tears that his work consisted of.

You crumpled under his touch, easily. He knew you, mind, soul, and more presently, body. The room was silent, bar for the slightest sounds of lips against your neck and fabric swishing against itself as he eased his hand further up your thigh, pushing underneath your skirt. By now his kisses against your neck had you tilting your head back in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. You could feel the outline of his cock against your ass and wanted nothing more than to get closer. Each time you saw each other it was like you hadn’t seen each other in years, would never see each other again. The passion never dissipated.

His hand crept further and further until it reached the side of your panties, lifting the elastic band and then letting it slap against your skin. His kisses against your neck grew deeper and traveled up to your chin, his other hand wrapped around your waist tightly. You gasped slightly at Chris’ suggestive touch.

“Christopher…” you whispered, your voice reduced to a weak shiver, lids becoming heavy.

“What?” he responded, his breath heavy.

“Please, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?” Christopher asked, fighting the smile that was pulling at his lips.

“Here!” you exclaimed with desperation, grabbing his hand and pressing it against the center of your panties where there was a wet mark.

“Oh, there,” Christopher replied, fingers pressing into you over the delicate fabric.

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your whole body beginning to tense up as if preparing for sweet impact.

You were relieved when you felt him push your panties to the side and you could finally feel his fingers against your flesh, prodding at your folds as if collecting your wetness along his fingertips.

“You’re always so wet,” he shuddered, wasting no time and pushing a thick finger into your hole, making you nearly jump out of your seat on his lap. Instead, though, you simply arched your hips up against his finger, letting out a deep exhale. “And so warm.”

“Oh!” you yelped out in pleasant shock when Christopher added another finger, fully stretching you out now and sending a buzzing vibration up your spine.

“Thought you didn’t want anybody to hear us?” Christopher taunted you, lips hot against your ear.

“Ugh,” you moaned, rolling your eyes. “Just—please.”

“Please what?” Christopher asked, all while quickening the pace of his fingers inside you, switching from slow, scissoring motions to a fast slam that caused you to collapse against his chest, your legs pried open. Christopher moaned to himself at the feeling of your wet slick against his fingers, the way he could feel you getting wetter as he pushed his fingers in and out of your hot entrance.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your voice taking on an entirely new high pitch as you jolted into the pleasure and the change of pace.

“‘M gonna fuck you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Christopher kept pushing his learned fingers into you, hitting your g-spot with ease. “Gonna make you take my cock.”

“M-mhm,” you gasped out. Chris wanted to see this through, but the way he was straining against his pants was killing him. It was painful not to be able to be inside of you.

“Fuck, I’m taking this off,” he announced, and you both fumbled together to unzip your skirt and toss it onto the floor. His pants and boxers came next, along with your panties. All thrown carelessly around the room. Then he lifted you and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling him on his desk chair. You were already desperately grinding against the base of his cock, your arousal trailing up his shaft.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Christopher’s voice seemed to grind into a growl as he watched you roll your hips desperately against his cock.

“Please,” you pouted, his words passing through you like a gust of wind— you hardly registered them. You were too busy grabbing at his cock and trying to

“Why’d you really come here, huh? To get fucked?”

You hated and loved how easy it was for him to turn you into putty.

more soon i promithhh <3 keep me on my toes yall

#the sopranos #sopranos fic #sopranos smut #christopher moltisanti fic #christopher moltisanti smut #christopher moltisanti #christopher moltisanti x black reader #x black reader #x reader

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valiantroeagleangel · 1 year ago

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Beg for it.

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Masturbation, toy, Noah is a teasing little bitch that let you beg for it.

Wrote this after one of the amazing @cowpokeomens (THIS PERSON IS A FUCKING GENIUS GO READ) headcanons, putting it here if you want to read it.

Once again this might be more of a drabble than a fic since I don't have that much time to write but give me a week and we shall be good.

I'm not big on the dom/ degrading kind of stuff but I just see Noah as a mean teasing little asshole. The dude is going to edge you just because he likes to hear you whimper and that is MEAN. Bear with me on that one y'all. Already wrote about that and I'll gladly do it again.

Alright, that's it, love you guys.

Mama's tag list: @circle-with-me @somewhere-diamond @malice-ov-mercy @smokeynaomi @darkhallcorner @loeytuan98 @sthnog

Noah wasn't mean. He meant no harm. He did not want to hurt anyone. Still, when he had you squirming under him, panting and whimpering, totally out of breath he swore that he could just keep you in this state forever. Painfully edging you over and over. All for his little pleasure.

You were so pretty crying for him. All the little moans he was getting from you were just the sweetest music to his ears.

You didn't know how he got you every time but you continued to fall into his traps. Noah was just two steps ahead of you each time. It was just the way it was between the two of you. Everything was set up when you expected it less.

Noah was a planner, he had the mind and liked to put it to work, he liked to think about everything, he liked to just have you mindlessly staring at him like he knew better than you how you would react to his moves. And he liked the idea of getting you off. Liked the fact that you would entirely rely on him, trusting him and letting him do anything to you because he was able to make you feel pleasure like no one else ever did.

And just like that, his mind was perpetually wandering on these horny thoughts. Oh, the things he would do to you while you two made out for hours on the bed. His hot breath humidified your skin just as his mouth travelled down your neck.

You couldn't help but squirm under him already. His hands roaming all over your body to tease you.

-Stop moving already. He groaned against your skin, stopping his kisses and you tried to stay still the best you could. God, you're so fucking needy.

Your hands tangled in his hair you restrained yourself to not immediately tug on it.

-'m sorry- Please Noah. You breathed out, desperate for his touch as he had been playing with you this way for more than an hour already.

You only heard him chuckle mockingly, his hands starting to administer his caress again on your skin. They brushed your ribcage as he kissed your neck again and again, leaving red marks of abuse on your sensitive skin.

Sneakily his fingers grew closer to your breasts, cupping one of them as a shiver travelled through your body. He felt it under his touch, a big grin settling on his face.

-Want me to touch you? He whispered, his hot breath fanning under your ear again.

You only whined, nodding vividly as you waited for him to do so for a while now.

-Where? Pausing, he kissed you again. Tell me.

-Wherever you want. I don't care, just do it for fuck sake.

Your voice was so desperate that it was slightly pathetic. You stuck your lower lips between your teeth as his thumb passed on your nipple, his fingers brushing over your skin, rubbing circles on it.

His breathing got heavier in your ear, the sound of it making you clench your legs together, at least try, to get some friction. But Noah rapidly got a hand on one of your inner thighs, pushing it apart from your other leg.

-Come on. Give me more. Defeatist you tried to coax him one more time. Hoping he would finally give to your supplications.

Standing up on his knees he separated himself from you for a moment, taking his shirt off before leaning back to you. You kept your gaze on him the whole time, admiring the way his shoulder muscles were working when he threw the clothing on the floor, joining the rest of the clothes he stripped out of you moments before.

He settled himself between your legs, spreading them as he laid his lips on your inner thigh, leaving teasing kisses once again. His hand kneaded the other one, his long fingers dipping in the fat of your muscle. He continued to blow air, wetting the area while he toyed with you.

-God I could watch you wriggle like that for hours. He voiced these words hoarsely, his intense look lifting to meet your gaze. I could just slightly brush my hand against your slit. He paused, waiting for your reaction but you kept staring at him completely hypnotized by his voice. Just like that.

His voice was so low that you could barely hear it when his fingers loosened themselves on your thigh, brushing along to reach your slit, his middle finger tracing your entrance with the subtlest pressure he could apply.

You gasped, your arms pressed on your chest to, once again, not just shove his head right between your legs. In the process you scratched yourself a little, leaving red marks on your collarbone.

-Hm. He hummed at you. You would like that, wouldn't you? If only I pushed it-

His head returned to your groin, his lips kissing between your legs and your pelvis before rising themselves to your hip where he left his wet kisses again. Still, his fingers did not leave your core they gently and slowly brushed your folds but cautiously avoided where you wanted him the most.

-If only I pushed it enough to finger you.

You only mewled at his firm tone, pushing your hips against his hand but he took it off.

-Should I? He moved his lips from your hips to your chest, pushing your arms away with his free hand.

-Yes please, do it. You looked down, your gazes meeting once again. You tried to separate him from your breasts, cupping his face and bringing his lips to yours. Please finger me, Noah.

Just like that his mouth collided with yours, ravenously kissing you while he pushed his long middle finger into your intimacy. He curled it vividly earning a loud and desperate moan from you.

-You're good? He asked, a bit worried by the way your voice highly cracked.

-Yes. You breathed out, nodding. Yes, I'm fine.

He nodded back, mimicking you before quickly adding a second finger, curling them inside of you as he brushed that sweet spot. Your cheeks heating your breathing became a bit more erratic, completely led by Noah's movements. His fingers were long, thick inside of you and you wondered how his slender fingers could fill you up that much.

He continued to caress you until you started to rhythmically clench over him, moans escaping you more and more frequently. But suddenly, when you thought you were finally reaching your so-wanted climax, he drew them out of you.

-What the fuck- You spat out, lifting yourself on your forearms as you furrowed your brows at him, not expecting to be robbed like that. But you should have, it was certain that he would not let you come just like that after teasing you for hours.

-Language. Noah looked at you, his severe gaze piercing through your whole body and you blushed, disrupted by his attitude.

-Sorry. You murmured, pouting as you looked away. I just wanted to come. He chuckled before licking his fingers clean, drying them on the cover of the bed to get rid of his spit. In the second he bent forward the nightstand, taking out the small vibrator he bought you a while ago.

-I know you do, baby.

You watched every single one of his movements as he made you lean back on the bed. His figure followed you while one of his hands turned you around, forcing you to rest on your stomach. Anticipation settling in your core you swallowed, Noah's weight keeping you pressed on the mattress.

-But you're such a whining little creature. In a quick movement, he got a silk cloth out with it. Lemme play with you for a bit, hm? He hunched forward, brushing his lips on your forehead and you agreed, closing your eyes to enjoy his contact.

He straightened himself a little for stabilization as he grabbed your wrists, tying them up before putting you on your back again.

You obeyed silently, letting him turn you around as it pleased him when he pushed the little toy into your cunt. It was so small and you were so wet that it went in without any kind of inconvenience, Noah enjoying how effortless you were taking it.

-I'm not letting you come until I do. He pressed his lips on yours one last time and your eyes widened, supplication in your look. But he turned the vibrator on, sending shivers through your body.

And just like that, he sat on his knees, settling himself between your legs as he watched you clench over the small object, softly vibrating into your intimacy. You saw him unbutton his pants, freeing his cock as he started to feel himself. His breathing getting heavier he continued to observe you wriggle, looking desperately for more friction, your hands tied in your back restraining you while he did not deign to touch you.

The slow intensity he turned this thing on was slowly killing you, bringing you to the edge without being strong enough to offer you release. And the view that was offering you Noah was definitely not helping you to calm down. He kept staring at you, pumping himself violently as he jerked off on your moans and whimpers, fucking his fists in such a devoted way that it made you cross your eyes.

-Fuck. He groaned, trying to get his breath back. You wished I fucked you like that, didn't you?

You hummed at him, arching as his words sent an electric shock in your limbs and he laughed at you only to pump himself harder -like it was possible-.

-I mean, it's true that I could die to feel your little cunt right now. He paused. Yeah. Then moaned. The way you would be clenching over me. Letting me fuck you dumb.

He continued to jerk off and you swore you could just come, if only he touched you, if only you could get some friction out of him, if only-

-God Noah, please. You called him, the frustration not bearable anymore but he denied you again, focusing on his own release. Please, Noah, I'll be good. You squirmed again. Come on.

You kept calling his name on a loop, his head buzzing to the sound of your pleas as he reached his climax, admiring the way your watery eyes were supplicating him.

You lamented under his gaze until he gave up, cleaning himself to approach your sensitive intimacy.

-Don't you ever shut up? He mocked you, one of his hands sliding on your torso, the other one brushing your folds until his thumb reached your over-aching clit.

-No. I don't, hm. You jerked back the feeling of his pressing digit on your intimacy bringing your climax to the rim of the cliff.

-Shhh. His hand slid from your torso to your neck, his grip tightening as he brushed his mouth on yours. Of course, you fucking don't.

That being said he accelerated the motions on your clit while kissing you, swallowing each one of your sounds as you felt your orgasm finally wash over you, leaving you completely drained under Noah's touch.

-But keep begging and I'll fuck you blind, baby.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #headcanon #not mine tho #wrote this instead of doing work

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