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chososdiscordkitten · 6 months

Text

Fight Back!

Synopsis: Play Fighting w/ the jjk men :D

Includes: 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 Content: a sprinkle of nsfw, no sex- just foreplay, manhandling, rough housing,

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Kento Nanami

Late at night—well after he came home from work, a few hours after dinner—he laid beside you with a book in hand.

This was always your least favorite part before bed- knowing Nanami could never focus on reading unless it was in complete silence. And silence always made your mind whirr with a million thoughts, but not wanting him to think there was something wrong; You laid next to him- scanning his expression that seemed lacking in interest.

"How's your book?" you whispered- pulling his focus and flashing his eyes over to you.

Nanami pulled one of the hands from the book and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boring." he sighed- eyes strained from looking at the little words.

Watching him lay his eyes back onto the pages with a soft exhale. You knew once Kento had started a book- regardless of how uninteresting he was in it, he would try and finish it.

You were the playful one in the relationship, trying to create excitement. You reached for the book, pulling it from Nanami's hands and quickly looking at the little number on the bottom.

Closing it and holding it to your chest. "You're probably the only man I know who would ignore a woman in his bed for a book." you teased, watching his brow furrow with a soft smile.

"I'm not ignoring you, honey-" he scoffed with a soft smile, reaching for the book only for you to move away.

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and making a feigned thinking noise. "Dunno- feelin' pretty ignored." you hummed, feeling his hand reach for the book again and turning away.

He rose to his knees and exhaled. "Alright, that's enough—" he smiled, his tone full of endearment.

You let out a small giggle-sitting up, and moving across the bed. Pressing your back against the sheets and watching his hands reach for it again, only for you to move away. "You want it so bad, take it from me." you giggled.

Nanami scoffed with a smile, accepting your dare. Reaching a hand out again, watching you tip onto your side with the book in hand. "Sooo close, Ken—" his words cut short as he touched your calf.

Nanami's strong hand yanked you towards him with a soft huff, looking down at you with pursed lips. "Hand it over." he demanded- trying to make his tone sound stern, only for it to come out mixed with a chuckle.

You planted your thigh beside his bent knee, his hand lightly caressing your calf, slowly raising on your leg. The book pressed against your chest, teasingly tilting your head against the bed. "I told you- Take it." egging him on as you pulled your calf from his softened grasp.

Watching his jaw clench as he hooked his hand beneath your slightly bent knee, reaching the other to the book only for you to raise it up with both hands.

Softly landing on top of you with your legs spread. One thigh pinned to the bed by Kento's forearm, the other on the side of his hip. Nanami's face looks up to your hands, giving you full access to his neck. His hips pressed against the back of your thighs with every little reach he made.

You only giggled- slightly bucking your hips up against him and pressing a kiss to his neck. "Some gentleman you are," you whispered. Releasing the book onto the bed and shoving it further on the bed with the tips of your fingers.

"Pinning a lady to the bed?" with a smile, placing your hand onto his side and humming against him.

A little laugh left his lips as he relinquished the urge to continue that book. He looked back at you and nodded his head. "It's your fault." he mumbled, planting his forearm next to your head and lightly resting his hips against you.

Looking into his eyes as he leaned down slightly, you met him halfway. "It's never my fault." you whispered, lips brushing against his with a smug smile.

He gave you his attention instead of his book. Leaving you more than pleased.

Naoya Zenin

You had noticed Naoya spending way too much time on his phone. Anytime you started talking, Naoya would pick up that stupid piece of metal and scroll mindlessly.

And instead of asking him why, you snatched the phone and ran to your bedroom. Throwing yourself onto the bed and opening it as fast as you could.

When he stepped in, he reached for the phone in your hands, only to be met with a little kick.

And with every reach Naoya made, he was met with a swat from your foot. "Give it back-" he huffed- kneeling at the foot of the bed as you scrolled through the apps.

"No way-" you grinned, "I wanna see what's more important than me." kicking off his hands and shifting away from his grasp.

That was till his hand finally got a good grip on your ankle- widening your eyes as he flipped you over. Naoya wasted no time sitting on the back of your thighs and planting his hand over your wrist.

You tried shifting from his grasp as you held his phone with a firm hand.

With clenched teeth, he leaned over to your ear, squeezing your wrist- "Give it." he gruffed against your ear.

"What are you hiding?!" you huffed with a smile against the sheets- wholly pinned down and still putting up a fight.

He only muttered a strained 'Nothing.'

With every little shift, Naoya's huffs of struggling to hold you down turned softer- his cock brushing up against your ass with every movement you shifted beneath him.

His breathing was heavy in your ear as he pressed his groin into your ass, "Are you-" you grinned, knowing that all too well the feeling jab at the swell of your bottom. Easing the grip on your wrist- gaining enough strength to push him off.

Landing on the bed on his back- his cheeks flushed and eyes bordering on forming spirals from how riled up he had gotten. Only for you to straddle his thighs and scroll on his phone again. Softly grinding down onto his erection as you scrolled on his phone.

When his shaky hand tried to reach for yours- another grind met his hips, along with swatting his hand away.

By the time you had opened every app and every message he had- Naoya was a blushing mess beneath you. Whimpers spilled from his lips as you locked his phone, "There was nothing…?" you muttered- feeling his hands rest on your thighs.

His hand trying to urge your hips to move- "I told you." he breathed through clenched teeth.

Pulling your lips to the side and tossing his phone haphazardly, "I guess you did." you smiled, looking down at him and softly grinding down against him.

Choso Kamo

You had been awake for a while. You had made breakfast and got dressed for the day, but Choso was still in bed. He was too comfy and far too sleepy to even think about getting up.

From the second you got up, he had been asking you to come back to bed. It was tempting, sure. But the apartment needed some serious cleaning, and grocery shopping had to be done.

So, as you walked back into the bedroom- eager to make the bed. "Get up." you demanded, reaching for the blankets and watching Choso clutch them even harder.

"No." he muttered, turning over and ignoring your pulling hands.

You sighed, tugging the sheets even harder. "C'mon get up—I needa make the bed," you muttered. You went to the side where he was lying and lightly pushed his arm, watching Choso's eyes open and look up at you.

He opened his arms and made a space for you. "Lay with me," he muttered, watching you purse your lips and reach for the blanket again.

"It's two p.m, Cho," tugging the blanket and feeling resistance. You were about to tug again, only for his hand to wrap around your wrist and pull.

Leaving you bent over on the edge of the bed- half your body on top of his as you let out a small laugh. His arms wrapping around you and placing his face onto the crook of your neck.

Trying to pull away from him- only to be met with a strong hand holding you still. Going as far as lifting your feet from the ground and pulling with your knees on the edge of the bed.

Completely entrapped by his arms as he refused to let up.

You tried shifting from his grip- only for his arms to hold you tighter. "Let me-" you tried saying, only to be met with a small nibble against your neck. A small giggle leaving your throat at the tickle.

Choso carelessly turned over with you in his arms. He hummed softly against your skin as you eased onto the center of the bed, his arms surrounding you with a small exhale.

Holding onto you tightly and feeling your legs adjust- Shifting in his grasp only for him to hold you tightly. "Lemme get up-" you scoffed, only to be met with a hum against your skin.

"Can't hear you m'asleep." he muttered against you. The vibrations of his voice rumbling against your skin.

Lightly placing your hand onto his side and sighing, "How am I supposed to clean if you keep pullin' me back to bed every 10 minutes?" you grinned- easing into his touch and closing your eyes.

"Don't clean." he hummed, holding you tighter.

You decided to stop fighting back, resting in his arms. Knowing if you pulled away, he would reel you back in for 'a few more minutes.'

Hiromi Higuruma

Hiromi had this horrible habit of laying on top of you. He was barely changed out of his work clothes and into his pj's. And here he comes- fully prepared to let all his body weight fall onto you.

Laying on the bed, phone in hand and watching him walk in- shaking a towel on his hair and tossing it aside. You tossed your phone aside with a sigh, preparing for the full weight of the grown man before you to crush you.

You closed your eyes in a fake grimace- hearing a small laugh from his lips as he eased onto the bed.

Exhaling a dramatic sigh as he pressed his face onto your collarbone. Fully easing his full body weight onto you.

You huffed a teasing 'oof' as he snaked his hands beneath your waist. Holding you as you rested your hands onto his shoulders. Using him as a table as you scrolled on your phone again.

"I never asked- why do you do that?" you grinned, placing your hand on his damp hair and hearing him hum against your shoulder.

He smiled against your skin, "Do what?" playing coy.

Smiling teasingly, "Crush me." hearing him let out a small laugh.

"I mean, you're a grown man- knocks the air out of my lungs." you grinned.

"The day you can successfully push me off is the day I'll stop." he challenged, feeling your hand against his scalp halt its movements and place your phone to the side.

Mustering all your strength, you started shoving his limp shoulders. Earning a hearty laugh from his lips- if anything, he made his body even more limp as you scoffed.

You attempted to shift to the side. More of an effort to escape from under him rather than pushing him off.

Hiromi felt your attempts- and instead of helping, he made fake snoring sounds against your skin. Little rumbles tickling your skin, making it even harder to focus. Slightly tightening his grip on your waist as you huffed with a small smile.

Somehow managing to shift down enough to be face to face with him- "Give up yet?" he muttered, looking at your face- still full of determination.

"You're not making this any easier-" you grinned, shifting your hand down his side. Hooking your leg onto his side- planting your other hand on the bed and gathering all the strength you could.

Inhaling a sharp breath as you turned yourself over, taking him with you. Leaving you on top and his hips straddled between your thighs.

Breathing heavily and looking down at him- his cheeks blushed with wide eyes. Confused as to where he was or how he ended on his back.

Though Hiromi was taller- he wasn't the heaviest to flip over.

You looked down at him as you straightened your back. "I win," you huffed, looking at the man who looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"Did you just- manhandle me?" he murmured, watching your proud expression nod 'yes.'

Hiromi pursed his lips, placing his hands on your thighs and caressing them softly. "I think I liked it."

Satoru Gojo

While playing a video game in your shared bedroom, you sat up with your knees bent to the side. Gojo sat beside you, watching your attempts to beat the stupid level.

Pursing his lips whenever you would make a move he wouldn't have- "No, you have to-"

"Shut up-" you muttered, nibbling your lip in concentration as he sighed.

"Ohmygod-" you winced, watching the little character on the TV die. Muttering a soft "Fuck." as Satoru raised himself onto his knees.

"My turn." he huffed, reaching for the control only for you to pull away.

Looking at him with furrowed eyebrows- "It's your turn when I finish this level." pulling the remote from his reach.

"You've been on this level for 20 minutes!" he scoffed, reaching for the remote again and pulling it from his grasp.

You scoffed, "It's not your turn yet!" watching as he leaned over you, reaching for the remote you kept pulling away.

"Just give it- I'll win so fast-" a smug smile on his lips as your bent knees pinned onto the bed- turning your torso around as he placed a hand onto your bottom for balance.

Every little reach he made- his ground brushing against your core, simulating a position Satoru frequently put you in. "Lemme try one more time-" you huffed pulling the remote away.

That, along with the little shifts his wakening cock made against you, caused Gojo to place his hand on your hip and turn your over on all fours. Well. On your knees, one hand holding up your torso, the other holding the remote from his reach.

"N-no it's my turn." his tone more whiney and desperate. You chalked it up to Satoru being a big baby regarding silly things like this.

A soft grunt left your lips as he leaned over you again, his bulge pressing into your ass and reaching for the remote. A whimper left his lips- feeling flushed and blaming it on the struggle for that remote.

Your chest pressed against the pillow, the hand holding you up collapsed- reaching back to him and trying to swipe him away. "Get off-" you grunted- feeling his hand wrap around your wrist and pin it to the center of your back.

Softly bucking his hips onto your ass, the hand reaching for the remote losing its determination and huffing a strained whimper.

His eyebrows pinched and cheeks a rosy shade of pink. Your wrist tried shaking off his hand- but his grip was too strong.

You hadn't even acknowledged the familiar bulge pressing against your core in the struggle. You turned your head slightly on the pillows. Peering back at Gojo and wondering why he had stopped reaching for it.

Gojo's face inches away from yours as your reaching hand holding the remote rested on the edge of the bed. Becoming aware of the jabbing against your warming cunt- only for Satoru to close the small space left between your faces and desperately rut against your bottom.

Too out of breath and heart racing to think of why- his hips trying to find relief as you grunted against him.

Closing your eyes with furrowed brows, only for Gojo to reach his hand to yours- taking the remote from your light grasp and pulling away from you.

Smiling with a triumphant look on his face and letting you go. Easing away from you and resting on the other side of the bed again.

Ignoring his erection and pressing play on the control. You only looked at him with furrowed eyebrows- confused by what had just unfolded.

Toji Zenin

You stood in the kitchen with him, prepping to make some sandwiches, as your eyes caught his all-too-tight shirt.

You had been spouting about how you could take him in a fight for the past few minutes.

His hands in his pockets as he heard you- "I'm a lot stronger than I look y'know," you grinned, placing the pieces of bread onto two plates. Turning to face him with a smug look, "like-" laughing to yourself as you thought up a comparison.

"Like Mike Tyson strong." you grinned- watching the corners of his lips curl up. A small laugh left his nose- amused at your comparison.

You clenched your teeth, a low grunt leaving your lips as you punched the air- aiming for his ribs.

Toji watched amused, as you took on a fighting stance. "You'd have no chance against me." you laughed, your fist aiming up- as though you were going to uppercut him.

Watching him refuse to flinch or fight back. Allowing you to pummel his aura with a smile.

Fighting the air around him with small huffs- making a 'boom' sound every time you threw a punch.

"M'sure you could." he muttered, tone full of sarcasm and watching you keep throwing hits against the air. Taking a step back and kneeing a few inches away from his torso.

Your hands determined- aiming various punches around him as he watched you.

Toji huffed a small laugh as you angled your fist to his jaw- slowing your fist and lightly tapping his jaw, clicking your tongue as your knuckles made contact.

You smiled to yourself as you eased off your so-called 'fighting stance'. Picking up the pack of turkey slices next to him, you turned around with a scoff— "Now, I know you're scared to actually fight me," you smiled, opening the fridge and placing the small pack of deli meat back.

Scoffing, "I know you'd limp away with your ego bruised, so it's okay." closing the fridge and turning around- pleased look on your face with your eyes closed.

Blinking your eyes open and seeing Toji in front of you- taking a step forward, caging you between the refrigerator and his torso. "My ego bruised?" he smiled.

Watching that smug look on your face refuse to falter, only balling your fist into a ball and aiming another false punch at him.

But his quick hand caught your wrist- gulping softly as his grip tightened. "Fight back." he murmured with a smile, lightly tilting his head.

Watching your eyebrows furrow with a smirk, trying to pull your wrist from his hand only for it to move mere centimeters.

"C'mon." he whispered, "You can do better than that." low eyes looking back at you. Slowly coming closer to you with every word.

You furrowed your eyebrows, using your other hand for another punch, only for his other hand to catch it. Nodding his head 'no' and pulling your wrists together. Toji held them in one hand and looked at you expectantly.

You gulped lightly, watching his eyes dim. A smug smile left your lips and formed on his. Whispering, "Fight back,"with a grin, feeling your hands try to pull from his.

An idea pops into your mind. Softening your furrowed brows, lowering your eyelids, and leaning in. Pressing a light kiss onto his lips, his hand eases its grip on your wrists.

Toji didn't hesitate to kiss you back as he slowly pushed the back of your head back onto the fridge's metal.

Eagerly pressing his tongue against your bottom lip your hands released from his, placing one onto his ribcage and the other slowly trailing down to his bulge.

Keeping a ghostlike touch against his bulge- Toji's keen tongue slipping into your mouth. Completely forgetting what point he was trying to prove.

Pulling away from him and looking at his expression- puffy lips and lightly blushed cheeks. "Fight back." you whispered, smug and amused at how easy it was to get him to let you go.

(a.n) Im exhausted, need a cigarette, and cock. gn.

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redcherrykook · 9 days

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── ‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ romance novel - biker!rich!JK x bookworm!reader request

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content: esth. relationship, book shopping date, fluff, bike rides with Jk, smut freaky ngl (she reads a smut scene, he recreates it for her meanwhile), fingering, tits play, clit play, kinda cum play, slight begging, praise

────୨ৎ────

"Ooh look at this one bunny!"

jungkook giggles, patting your flowy hair onces again, his arm moves to wrap around your shoulders

He had heard this sentence about a thousand times now, never getting tired of it

"Hmm.. interesting"

How could he? Seeing your eyes glimmer and light up upon viewing the pretty covers, the little hums and gasps you let out, flipping the book around to read the synopsis

"I think this is the last one" your fingers tap the cover, putting it inside the full basket your boyfriend is carrying with his other arm

He smiles, rubbing your cheek with his thumb, "sure? We have time sweetheart, take it" nodding his chin up to gesture to the fantasy asile,

For the past two weeks, all he's seen you read is fantasy

Wheather it be acotar or the cruel prince series, the countless stories of fae, dragons and heir's float around on the pages, register in your brain and flow out as retelings for Jungkook to listen to

He'd be listening to twenty minute voice messages of your charged rambles, finding it absolutely adorable how worked up you get over fictional storylines

Ever since passing your bar exam, he had promised to take you book shopping, promised to buy you whatever books you wanted

"But- there's already so much in here, its so expensive kook" you pout, squeezing his arm while roaming over the fantasy section with your eyes,

"I can pay for it baby. You know money is the least of my worry, come on, i want to treat my smart girl" his sweet but stern tone of voice is enough to make you fold, kissing his cheek and happily walking towards the huge shelves,

"Cute" he mutters under his breath, following closely behind you

A few special editions of pre owened books and a whole new series in addition later, the total came out to what would be a month's rent for you, and a little nick for your boyfriends bank account

"Give me that sweetheart, I'll store it" his gloved hands wrap around the heavy, large totebags, two of them filled to the brink

Knowing that was gonna be the outcome, his attached storage comparted was handy, presecured on the black harley davidson.

"All done" he says, locking it after managing to stuff the bags inside

You give him a thumbs up, already having pulled your pink- hello kitty themed helmet over your head, comically contrasting the rest of your outfit

He had gotten you that helmet as well, back when he first acquired his license and could start taking you with him on his rides

"My place?" his head turns a bit over his shoulder, revving the engine

You nod, arms sneaking around his firm torso and locking your hands tightly

He takes off, driving the way back to his nice suburban apartment, the wind speeding with your sides, blowing a refreshing breeze

"Whatcha reading honeybun?" After watching you read the past 45 minutes, your boyfriend spent his gaming and making popcon, peacefully watching you doze off into a world he wasn't a part of

he can't take it anymore, the smell of your sweet floral scent clouding his room, the little groans you let out will flipping through the pages, it's too much to soley bear witness to

So he teases you, nudging your side with his elbow

You giggle in return, squeezing his round cheeks while he keeps munching on the snack set on the bedside table

"Fantasy, bunny. Just about some fae wars again" you reply in a low hum, scanning over the words on the paper

With a dramatic sigh, his head rests on your lap to catch your attention, his pretty, dark brown locks falling over to the side, framing the sharp contures of his jaw beautifully

You take a second to stroke his face, appreciating the eyebrow piercing he had gotten recently, as well as the small metal ring on his bottom lip. Your favorite feature, his brown doe eyes, contently shutting

His sweet bunny smile slowly spreads on the honey toned face of his,

"Attention please, i need your attention baby" he says, turning his head sideways to kiss the inside of your hand

"Hmm.. but it's so interesting right now kook. Five minutes okay?" the butterflies in your stomach roar at his actions, however, the intense rivalry in the book is enough to keep your eyes locked back on the words

Suddendly, a tatted hand rips away the book, written ink disappearing from your eyesight and into your boyfriends golden hands

"more interesting than me huh? Let's see what my little princess reads about"

he's sat upright now, scanning over the page you last left off, nodding, seemingly satisfied before flipping through the pages

Your eyes widen at that, well aware of the dirty secret this innocent fantasy book witholds,

Explicit scenes are thickly spread between the plot of what looks to be a regular story

Panicking, you climb into his lap, reaching to take the book off him when you notice his smirk softly spreading, clearly having stumbled on something he shouldn't have seen

His arm extends upward, making sure you won't be able to get the book off of him,

With a almost predatory gaze, his cocky smile also looks down to you, licking over the corner of his lip, grazing the small metal decoration

"That's what's keeping my girl from spending time with me hm?"

he chuckles lowly, stroking over your thighs with his free hand

"Kook stoppp!" you whine, still propped up on your knees and on his lap, both arms up and fumbling to get the book back down,

Your cheeks have been covered in a pink hue and with the way your chest bounces at your desperate attempts, jungkook simply can't help it

He pushes you down on his bed, taking your wrists with one of his hands and pinning them together above your head

The atmosphere shifts, clearly asserting the dominance to him as he hovers over you like you're his prey, completely helpless at his mercy

You let out a soft moan when his eyes find your again,

"Listen to me sweetheart. We're gonna spend some time together now. Since you so badly wanna read, read it out for me. Tell me what you dream 'bout yea?"

Your eyes widen and for a split second, he sees the look on your face turn from excitment to worry,

Immediately he lets go of your wrists, wrapping both his arms around your figure, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck

" m'sorry baby, I didn't sound so nice there did i? You can always say no. I'm not judging you sweetheart, i promise" sweetly, the air shifts again into something more comfortable, soft pads of your fingers colliding with the strands of his hair,

"Thank you kook.. i think it would be fun.." you admit, the need in your voice becoming almost too much to withstand, he lets you know how much he wants you by sucking on the skin of your neck, kissing his way back up to your jaw

Once satisfied, he reaches for the almost abandoned book, handing it to you with a kiss to your forhead

"Go on sweetheart"

You swallow, quietly reading the first lines aloud to him,

"he pushes the thin fabric of her flimsy top upwards to reveal her swollen chest, caged in his favorite colored bra. Mercilessly, they get groped at by his eager hands, hungry for a taste of her skin on his"

Jungkook's hands move exactly like you had told him to, pushing your comfortable sweater upwards and groping the soft swell of your breast in his large plams, groaning softly when he brushes over your nipples,

Relishing the touch of your skin, he can't help but nudge the bra down a bit, getting a better feel of you

He loves watching your face twist slightly in pleasure, he loves hearing your breathy little whimpers

"keep going baby, you feel so good" he encourages, drawing meaningless patterns on your stomach and it sends waves of pleasure straight to your core

You take a small breath, trying your best to focus on the instructions in front of you

"..without waiting another second, his hands tug down her bottoms, leaving her in just her panties. Effortlessly, he brushes against her clit, rubbing the fabric to it before pulling the thong to the side to admire the wetness he created"

your moans increasingly become louder, feeling the pad of his thumb press small cricles into your covered clit before pushing to fingers under the string, letting the cold air hit your pussy

Jungkook takes a second to lick his lips and sigh, enamored with the sight of your glistening cunt, the bulge in his pants is starting to strain painfully

"He keeps his eyes on hers, monotering the way they roll back when he slides two digits into her hole, twisting them so his thumb still presses into the needy bud, begging for stimulation"

That's it, that's what makes you shudder, letting the book fall off to the side, your knees buckling and hands gripping at Jungkook's firm shoulders

He smiles, brushing his lips over yours,

His long digits feel so good inside you, he doesn't move them yet, only moving his thumb softly, rubbing it up and down on your clit,

"That good?" he asks, licking over your bottom lip slowly

A whine of approval leaves your lips as you crash them on his, engulfing him in a deep, passionate kiss that makes him moan into it

The attempt at making him start pleasuring you doesn't work, still only letting them sit inside your warmth,

"You know what i want sweetheart" he mutters, slolwy sliding his tongue inside your mouth before withdrawing, met with your little whimpers once more

"come on, be a good girl, beg for me baby"

"Please kook" you whine, one hand now sliding down from his shoulder to his thigh, turning your fingers inward on the muscle,

He hums, directing his kisses back to your neck, licking over the skin delicately

"You can do better pretty, i know you can"

Another frustrated whine leaves your lips,

"Please kook, please fuck me with your fingers, please bunny make me cream on them. Please, i need it"

"Good girl, so good for me" he praises, giving you no room to breath or build up- almost brutally fast in the way he fucks his fingers into you, sucking on the softness of your neck

His thumb hits your clit with every push, harder, faster, each time

You're whimpering, moaning messily and trying to hold on to every little thing you can grasp with sweaty, trembling hands

He meets your moans, groaning, finding your lips and kissing you with such need and intensity, you want him, want him even while having him

"kook gonna cum" you whimper into his mouth, clenching around the slender fingers that create quelching noises when fucking into your cunt, the friction of his thumb making it impossible to hold on any longer

"That's so good baby, my sweet girl, come for me" his kisses focus on the side of your jaw, tongue darting out while slowing down the pace, he had felt you shake and release on him, that deep moan you let out being enough to know you came undone

You're panting, weakly laying slumped forward against him. Ecstacy rushing rough your body, his fingers still burried deep, while his other hand accompanies the sweet kisses on your head, threaded through your silky strands

"Awh... so cute, look at that" the sound of his deep and affectionate words catch you off guard, looking down to where his eyes are focused on

He draws his fingers out, taking a string of your arousal with him before directing them back to your sensitivity

Your grip on his tightens once more , whining out the sound of his name

"Mhh.. i know, i know sweetheart" he coos, his fingers working to spread your cum all over your folds and rubbing it into your clit,

With a quick kiss to your lips, he tells you to open

"Here.. good girl" he mumbles, watching your eyes fall and your lips wrap around his fingers, pushed into the warmth of your mouth

You moan when tasting your own arousal on him, tongue twirling between his fingers to lapp up every drop

He takes them out when he's satisfied, tangling his hands into your hair

"Wanna take a bath pretty?" you nod, giggling when he starts placing little kisses all over your face, wrapping his arms around you as he hoists you up, getting ready to run you a well deserved bath

"Thank you kook" you tell him, cupping his face into your hands, he squeezes the flesh of your bare ass in return, kissing the tip of your nose with a small laugh

"I promised to make your dreams come true. Unfortunately i don't have a Dragon. Not yet at least, if you wanna fuck one, you know where to look for something in that size"

You kick his butt with your heel, rolling your eyes at his middle school joke,

"You're ridiculous", he sets you down on the bathroom counter, running the water and filling it with bubble solution,

"You love me" he says, taking his shirt off,

Biting your lip softly, you reach for his defined figure,

"I do. I love you"

his hands with your waist under the sweater, pulling you closer into him,

"I love you too sweetheart"

#redcherrykook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x you

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finniestoncrane · 5 months

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Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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gojorgeous · 9 months

Text

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure.

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm.

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy.

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile.

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been.

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment.

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product.

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower.

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive.

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god.

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.”

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him.

“No problem.”

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment.

“You hungry?”

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago.

“Can’t say that I am.”

“Hm.”

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor.

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?”

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin.

“Never said that.”

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips.

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?”

Another flash of pearly whites.

“Get it over with, hm?”

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread.

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.”

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite.

“That so?”

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet?

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze.

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed.

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?”

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close.

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you.

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close.

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste.

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again.

A breath, a pause.

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head.

“Go.”

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back.

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in.

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all.

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away.

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips.

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?”

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin.

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…”

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it.

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh.

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming.

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.”

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh.

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug.

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks.

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts.

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.”

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter.

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it.

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by.

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?”

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.”

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes.

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper.

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten.

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be.

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…”

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.”

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high.

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–”

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.”

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge.

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away.

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you.

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight.

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.”

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed.

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation.

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready.

“Satoru, it won’t–”

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.”

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging.

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks.

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers.

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice.

“F-Fuck, princess.”

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake.

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.”

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good.

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad.

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round.

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh.

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.”

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

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#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #tw: breeding #bree’s fics

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blaire-apricity · 2 months

Text

Welcome Back

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Despite being utterly exhausted from your mission, you took great care in opening the apartment door you shared with Xavier, not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep.

Given how he always seemed drowsy during the day, you assumed he’d be in bed by now. But you had forgotten that Xavier was always up late, hunting Wanderers and attending to his own errands.

Quietly closing the door behind you, you were taken by surprise when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” you asked softly, concerned that your footsteps and the creaking floor might have disturbed his sleep.

He nuzzled into your nape, inhaling your scent, his embrace firm yet tender, as if afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“No,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your neck. “I waited for you.”

A twinge of guilt washed over you. “Let’s rest then?” you suggested softly.

But there was no response. Turning your head, you saw that he had miraculously fallen asleep in that position.

Even though he was leaning on you, his weight wasn’t burdensome, but his even breathing and heaving shoulders told you he was sound asleep.

Raising a hand to wake him, you changed your mind and instead began to gently massage his scalp with one hand while caressing his hand on your waist with the other.

He let out a soft, satisfied mumble, melting into your touch.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Usually, Zayne would be the one who would come home late after his night surgeries, but tonight, it was you.

Opening the door, you noticed a light on in the living room. Zayne was sitting on the couch, a book in his hands, his eyes immediately locking onto you as you walked in.

“You’re late. It’s already past midnight,” he stated calmly, though you detected a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry. I had to finish some documents,” you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying him.

Setting his book down, he stood up, his expression composed but his concern evident. "You should have called," he said, walking over to you with steady, pragmatic concern.

"I know, but I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted.

He sighed softly, a rare show of emotion. "It's never a bother when it’s about you," he said, gently touching your arm. "Are you okay?"

“I’m fine, just tired,” you assured him with a small smile.

“Good,” he nodded, his stoicism softening as he looked at you. "But next time, just let me know."

Nodding, you felt warmth in your chest at his words. Despite his reserved nature, you knew he cared deeply. “I promise.”

He gave a slight, approving nod before stepping back. "Alright, let’s get you to bed. You need rest."

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Rafayel quipped, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as you walked in.

You sighed, closing the door behind you. "I had a job, Rafayel. It took longer than expected."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And here I thought you were out having fun without me."

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. "Seriously, Rafayel, it was work."

He stood up, sauntering over to you with that roguish charm that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"You could have at least called, you know. I was starting to think you found someone more interesting than me," he said, a mock pout on his lips.

"You know that’s not true," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your tiredness.

He stopped in front of you, his playful demeanor softening just a bit. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of it," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I might start to get jealous."

Laughing softly, you felt the tension of the day melt away. "I’ll keep that in mind."

"Good," he said, leaning in closer. "Now, how about a proper welcome home kiss?"

You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His teasing nature might annoy and drive you crazy sometimes, but beneath it all, you knew he cared deeply for you.

As you pulled away, he smirked. "See? Was that so hard?"

Shaking your head, amused, you replied, "You're impossible."

"But you love me anyway," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Yes, I do," you admitted, sighing softly in defeat at his annoyingly-childish charm.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

"Out late, aren’t we, sweetie?" Sylus remarked coolly, his tone controlled.

The lights were still on, and he was sitting in a sleek armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, looking completely unbothered.

“Nice to see you too, Sylus,” you said, setting your bag down and rolling your eyes. "The job just took longer than expected."

Standing up, he walked over to you with that confident, almost intimidating grace he always had. "You could have called," he said.

"And miss out on your reaction? Where's the fun in that?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

He chuckled, almost a scoff of amusement, clearly enjoying the banter. "Fair enough. But next time, try not to keep me waiting."

"Impatient and bossy?" you teased, crossing your arms.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something more intense. "Assertive, more like." He said, tilting your chin up. "Did you at least have a productive night?"

"It was fine. Just a lot of work," you said, trying to ignore the way your heart raced under his gaze.

"Good," he replied, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I expect nothing less from you."

Raising an eyebrow, you didn’t back down. "And I expect nothing less than a proper welcome home from my significant other."

He laughed, a deep raspy tone. "Demanding, aren’t we? But I suppose you’ve earned it."

Leaning in, he kissed you in the forehead, a mix of possessiveness and affection in the gesture. When he pulled back, his eyes still twinkled with that ever-present dominance.

"If you keep coming home this late, I might have to start tagging along on these jobs of yours," he said lightly, but with underlying seriousness.

"Like you’d ever leave Onychinus for a night," you retorted, grinning knowing he’d never leave it to the twins.

"True," he conceded. "But for you, I might make an exception."

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐷𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟/ 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 (𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑) 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟.

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randomdragonfires · 3 months

Text

Parallel Lines, Act I

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | He fears her proximity, and she fears his distance. As war looms, they’ll have to learn to make their marriage work to find comfort in each other.

Or at least, try.

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Complicated Relationship Themes; Emotional Negligence; Infidelity; Major Character Death; Aemond and his issues are a warning on their own ok?

AUTHOR’S NOTE | All Valyrian lines were translated from english using a free online translator. They are likely to be grammatically wrong - but I don’t even know man. Yeah.

WORD COUNT | 9.5k - and not a single word is beta read. We die like warriors, I guess?

The moonlight spilled through the series of windows of her husband’s - not theirs, his - apartments in the Red Keep, casting a silvery glow over the austere elegance of the chambers. His wife stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the backdrop of the night sky, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across the dimly lit interior, taking in the cool, stone walls that seemed to absorb the flickering torchlight. She glided through the hall where intricate tapestries depicted dragons in flight, their scales shimmering with threads of gold and silver. The grand fireplace dominated one wall, the warmth emanating throughout the space from the burning logs within. She folded her arms into her chest, as if to preserve the heat as she shivered from the cold night - her thin nightdress didn’t help. Above the mantelpiece, Vhagar's fierce eyes followed her every movement, a fierce presence in paint.

Moving through the chambers, she passed through his personal library, every page a stern reflection of his interests. Shelves of dark, polished wood lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, their faint scent of aged parchment and leather permeating the air.

He mostly smelled of smoke, fire and leather. Of books and dragons - both of which he is passionate about.

It makes sense then, that no one will ever catch a whiff of her perfume on him.

They were far from passionate, after all.

In the center, his heavy, ornately carved desk was strewn with maps and documents, a well-used quill and inkwell ready for his expert hand to wield. She leaned on the table to look at it all, and spun one of the wooden markers between her nimble fingers for a moment - as she had seen him do countless times - before leaving it back where she found it.

She stepped into the bedchamber, its stark stone walls softened by the rich, crimson fabrics of the large, canopied bed. Dragons were subtly woven into the bedspread and curtains, a constant reminder of the Targaryen lineage that she had married and given birth to.

How long has it been since she laid with him on this bed? More than a year, she surmised. They did their duty on their wedding night, and the Mother was graceful enough to make his seed quicken in her immediately. She laid with him for a few weeks after - and when the maesters made it known that she was with child, that had stopped.

A good wife knows how to keep her husband satisfied, they said. Her husband never sought her out. If the whispers of the few around her were to be believed, he frequents a whore in a Silk Street brothel.

Was she not a good wife then?

She gave him a son. He may be sickly, but he is a son nonetheless. Surely it must count?

With a weary sigh, her eyes shifted to the adjoining armory, where Aemond’s armor and weapons were meticulously displayed. This part of his room exuded an air of readiness, a silent promise of the warrior who would soon return to his space.

From the whorehouse, no doubt.

She turned back to the window, her thoughts as fluid as the shimmering waves below. The apartments were a microcosm of her husband's existence: regal yet austere, scholarly yet martial.

And no sign of marriage, leave alone happy or healthy. How could there be, when he doesn’t feel half the happiness with her that he does when left alone with his beast or books?

There was no hate between them, surely not. Her husband was agreeable, but that was that. There was never any doubt in her mind that he did not want her - or the idea of her - but had to marry her anyway. There was no passion, and she could count with two hands the number of times they have lain with each other in the past year that they have been married - even that was before she had become with child.

There was nothing, truly.

She tried with him, initially. But any illusion of interest that she thought he may grow towards her was shattered the moment she heard that the very night that she’d met him, he was seen moving out of the castle grounds and into the Street of Silk.

He didn’t even bother with making it discreet.

Their wedding was a morose affair. They were the very picture of a royal couple, but neither felt the part - more like a pair of chastised children made to listen after a screaming bout. Even when he took her, he took her from behind - and she was fully clothed. It was nowhere close to the slow exploration that some of her ladies promised. He’s a scholar, he’d be willing to learn for your pleasure, they had said. He’d not even kissed her after their wedding ceremony, not once - he simply demanded that she get on the bed, and took her like an animal while the Small Council and their families watched her eyes pool with painful tears.

What had she done to warrant such embarrassment? She didn’t know what she’d done to make him shirk her so, but it was the way it was. It just was.

When he kept calling her back, he’d taken to offering her wine when they were finished. She didn’t linger when her goblet was emptied. She simply walked out, and wished him a good night.

He never once asked her to stay.

When the news of the babe in her belly had arrived, she’d been relieved - she’d never have to lay with a man who did not want her, ever again. He didn’t seem overjoyed either, and simply hummed with a hand on her belly.

“There is blood of the dragon in you now,” he said. And then he let his thumb run over her cheek. It was the softest he’d ever been with her, and she relished those few seconds. For a moment, he looked so peaceful and content… a stranger. That’s when it occurred to her that perhaps there’s more to Aemond than what he lets anyone see.

She could have fallen in love with him, if he’d cared enough to show her. But it seemed that he’d only viewed her as a duty and a burden.

The ghost of his touch lingered, and she brought her own hand to her cheek as though the warmth still remained. What did the whores have that she did not? Or was it the same whore each time?

Jealousy is unbecoming of a princess, she reminded herself. But so is unhappiness and a constant sense of dread, surely?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open. Her husband strode into the room, immediately aware of her presence. She felt the shift in the air and watched as the shadows of his boots slow, absorbing the sight of her. He removed his cloak with a fluid motion, letting it fall onto his chair before approaching her with the deliberate grace of a predator.

“Wife.” His voice was clipped and devoid of warmth, as though addressing a servant rather than the mother of his son.

She turned to face him, the pale moonlight highlighting the tension etched across her features. "Husband," she responded, mirroring his tone, though a flicker of hurt glimmers in her eyes.

Do you think of me as I think of you? Do you think of me at all?

A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Her gaze scanned his face, searching for any trace of the man whom she foolishly once thought would love her. Instead, she found only the cold mask he wore, a fortress against the world and his own buried emotions.

Against her.

“Has the council kept you long?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. They both looked outside the windows, with her leaning into the railing while he stood with his hands held back, ramrod straight.

Always on guard.

“Long enough,” he replied, his eyes drifting to the dark expanse of the bay. “There are matters that require my attention.”

“And our son?” she asked, a touch of warmth infusing her words at the mention of their child. “Will you see Aerys tonight?”

For a brief moment, something softened in Aemond’s gaze, a fleeting shadow of tenderness. She must have imagined it - it was too fleeting and quick to hold any kind of weight.

She was jealous of her own son, for he elicits more from Aemond than she ever has, as little as it is.

“Perhaps. If time allows.”

She nodded, turning back to look at him; to see him.

The weight of his indifference settled over her like a shroud. The Blackwater Bay stretches out before them, vast and unchanging, mirroring the growing distance between them.

“I worry for you,” she murmured, her voice almost swallowed by the night. “War will come to us soon, will it not?” If it hadn’t come so far, she knew it would now. Vaemond Velaryon’s rolling head and King Viserys’ worsening condition only made sure of it.

He stood rigid beside her, his posture unyielding. “It is my duty,” he said, as if that alone suffices.

“I know,” she replied, sadness threading through her voice. “But you are more than your duty, Aemond. You are Aerys’ father and my…”

The emotions were high tonight, higher than they’d ever been. She didn’t know why she sought him out. There has been ample evidence to support that he would not care, and yet here she was.

She wanted safety, and the only person she could approach is the one who has never made her feel welcome or safe in any capacity.

Who else do I have here?

The tears mangle her vision and she swallowed what threatened to follow.

“I have given you a son.” She trembled, her voice threatening to give way to s stream of tears. “The shadow of war looms upon us, and you’ve set me aside and I worry…”

He lifted his head just slightly as the words sank in, but she was too dejected to care about his acknowledgement. He may be cold, and his reactions to her come far and few in between - but she could not bring herself to mull over it too at the moment.

“War is coming. I am as certain of it as I am of the sun rising on the morrow and I know you are too -” He opened his mouth to interfere, but she was quick to not give him the gap to take over her speech. “Do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise.”

“I was not.”

She turned to face him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her eyes as she wondered why the Gods had not seen fit to give her a husband who loved her. He was beautiful, a cruel irony that made her anger flare even more. Despite all the hurt he had caused, she could not help but feel drawn to him. To hide her tears, she looked to the floor, trembling as she forced out her next words.

“I know you do not love me. I know you do not want me. But I… I have given you a son. An heir to continue your legacy, and that… I like to think that it would be reason enough to ask you to not forsake me. We have not supported each other all this time, but the least you can do is assure me that you will keep us safe.”

A flicker of something unrecognizable flashed in his eye, and he turned to face her fully, leaning against the window arch. “Did you… truly think that I would leave you to die if it came down to it?”

“You haven’t given me reason to believe that you’ll want me around.” Her voice was bitter, dripping with contempt.

He was ethereal as he reached out, holding her jaw between his thumb and finger, bringing her closer to his porcelain skin and alabaster hair. Her gaze flitted about chaotically, struggling to meet his eye. Her body shivered from the cold, torn between wanting him to let her go and needing him to hold her tight.

“You are my wife. I swore to the Gods that I would honor and protect you. You and Aerys are my family, and I would be slain a hundred times over before I see either of you hurt. I may not be… I may not be the man you want, but I can assure you that I am an honorable husband who will safeguard you and our boy.”

She did not know what she expected. A declaration of hidden love? Certainly not. But somehow, his assurances fell short. “Honorable.” She tested the word on her tongue, finding it the most bitter sound she had ever uttered. Her cheek alarmed him, and she spat venom. “Honorable?” His grip on her chin tightened, and she took it as a sign to continue.

“I know you frequent the Silk Street brothels. I know you’ve been going there since the very first day we met. Unless the professions of whores have changed, it is safe to assume that you are not honorable or loyal. And if you are, it is certainly not to me.”

A whore out there enjoyed her husband’s undying devotion, while she sat in the castle hoping and praying he would recognize her, let alone love her.

His expression shifted, a storm brewing behind his eyes, but he did not release her. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a chasm of pain pulling them apart. She met his intense gaze finally, tears brimming in her eyes, the anguish of their fractured bond laid bare for him to see.

He tasted of smoke and fire, and yet her mouth craved him anyway. He was an eternity away from her—always, always—and yet her fingers yearned to touch him.

“I do not go there for…” He took a long breath before completing his sentence, almost as if he needed his composure to simply survive.

Not there for what? Was he not fucking the whores? What else could he possibly do?

“Do you think I do not know the sacrifices you have made?” His voice was a harsh whisper, a mixture of anger and something deeper, almost pleading. “Do you think I do not feel the weight of our shared duty, the responsibility to our son? My responsibility to you?”

“But you have never shown me,” she whispered back, her voice breaking. “You have never given me a reason to believe that you care, that you see me as more than just a broodmare for an heir!"

For a moment, they stood frozen, the distance between them both physical and emotional. The moonlight casted a cold glow over their figures, highlighting the stark contrast between their proximity and their separation.

“It is not easy for me.”

“It should not be hard to love your wife. Or at the very least respect her.”

“I—”

She brought her hand up to stop him before any more of his lies spewed out and stepped away from him. She walked to the door at an amazing speed, her skirts swishing past as she tried to get out before her tears spilled out. In a late change of heart though, as her hand rested on the door latch, she turned.

“No lady should beg her husband to love her. No matter if he is a prince. It is beneath her, and I am no different. I will not beg…” If she had looked at him properly, she’d have noticed him flinch at her damning words.

“I will not beg you to love me after dismissing me all this time; I do have my pride. But I will beg you to save my life if it needs saving. That is all I ask.”

“You never had to ask.”

She took a breath and drank some leftover wine in the goblet next to her, not caring for whose it originally was. The thought would make her retch usually, but she was beyond caring.

“Your mother… she loves me surely, but I think she doesn’t like me very much. Your sister and I never managed to understand each other. Your brother… well he is a mindless lecher. I can’t quite figure out your grandfather at all. And you… you know what we’re like. I just… I worry that in this impending war within kin, I will be forgotten and left to die simply because my job is done with the birth of my son and I am too close to the storm and you don’t care and I don’t want to die. I don’t want anyone to die-”

“You are my kin.” he said. It made her smile, albeit a woeful one. “You may need to remind me every once in a while.”

He didn’t respond. She simply left.

And even now, he didn’t ask her to stay.

She wished he did.

Aemond stood by the hearth, cradling their feverish son in his arms.

Dressed in his somber blacks, he looked every bit the stern warrior, yet the gentle way he held Aerys belied that image. The babe was flushed and fretful, his tiny hands gripping Aemond’s hair and tugging insistently. Aemond hissed softly at the sharp pull, but did not dislodge the child's grip.

“Byka zaldrīzes,” he grumbles. It is strict, but not unaffectionate - she was familiar with that tone. She’d watched him use it with their son often when he thought no one was looking. [Little dragon.]

From the doorway, she watched them. They looked like a loving family - the devoted mother standing watch, her eyes filled with affection as she observed her husband and son. But appearances were deceiving, and both of them knew the truth beneath the surface.

Aerys, in his restless state, grabbed at Aemond’s eyepatch, tugging it down and exposing the scarred, empty socket. Aemond’s expression tightened as he shifted the boy from one arm to the other, quickly adjusting the patch back into place. In that brief moment, their eyes met, and she glimpsed the vulnerability he so meticulously hid. He seemed to close himself off even more, as if shielding his heart from her gaze.

It was a deep, almost dark blue. She noticed, she always noticed.

“I came to check on him before luncheon,” she said softly, breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy shroud. She always ensured that she made a solitary routine of her visits, ensuring that he’d have time alone with her son like he seemed to want. To be together - as a family - stumped her beyond belief, no matter how second nature it should be.

What was he doing here?

Aemond nodded, his voice measured as he recounted the maester's instructions. “The maester believes he will grow healthy with time. We must be diligent with the poultices and draughts.” His tone was clinical, as if discussing a strategy for battle rather than the wellbeing of their son.

She watched as he laid Aerys gently in the cot, the child’s feverish grip slackening as he drifted into a fitful sleep. She approached, brushing a strand of hair from Aerys’s forehead, her touch tender and light.

Aemond stepped back, retreating to the armchair close to the cot where a goblet of wine awaited him. He took a long sip, his gaze fixed on her as she sat at his foot, and peered in to take a look at their son. Facing away from him, she began to sing softly. Her voice, though tinged with sorrow, was soothing, and Aemond’s stern expression softened as he watched the scene unfold. For a moment, the room was filled with a fragile peace.

The Seven Gods who made us all,

are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

She didn’t say anything and let the silence engulf them both when she finished her song. She then turned around and sat on the floor near his feet, her back leaned against her son’s cot as she looked up to face her stoic husband. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke - his words measured but with the intent of concern. He spoke them like he was testing them out on his tongue.

“The maesters… they say you’re being given herbs as well.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of her exhaustion in every fiber of her being. The birth had been horribly hard on her body, leaving her depleted and fragile. Only now was she beginning to regain her strength. The whispers of the servants echoed in her mind—comments about how all this suffering was for a sickly child. But those whispers meant nothing to her. She would move the ends of the earth for her son, no matter what anyone thought.

He was the blood of the dragon. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and she would not allow her son to be any different.

“Ever since the birth, I have grown… weak,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aerys took a toll on me when he came.”

Aemond’s eyes were detached, but she heard the slight concern and contemplation in his voice. “Were you in pain? In the days after?”

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden show of concern. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I was. I still am.”

His questions were gentle, as if he truly cared, as if he genuinely wanted to understand what she had gone through. This unexpected tenderness from him was jarring, and it took all her strength not to withdraw. She had longed for this moment for so long, the chance to finally, truly connect with the man she had married.

And now that it was here, it felt as foreign to her as the other continents of the realm.

“I should have been there,” he said, his voice laced with regret. He didn’t look at her, head turned away as he spoke. “I should have been by you-”

She’d heard the rumors that her good mother worked hard to ensure she’d never hear. While she labored and went through all the Seven Hells giving birth to their son, Aemond was at a whorehouse, doing Gods know what.

She shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I don’t want to know,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “I’d rather choose blissful ignorance than a painful truth. Especially when it comes to you.”

Aemond nodded slowly, regality exuding from him even in his slightest movements. “I have failed you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. He did not apologize, and she knew that he never would. This was the most she would get from him, and for now, it had to be enough.

It didn’t mean that it shocked her any less.

Summoning her remaining strength, she stood and moved toward him. She leaned forward, resting her hands on the armrests of his chair, bringing herself closer to him. The curve of her breasts nearly brushed his chin, and she could feel his breath, warm and shallow, on her skin. His goblet of wine lay forgotten on a nearby desk, the contents slowly going tepid.

He looked up at her, surprise and something deeper flickering in his eye. His expression was a mixture of pain and longing, as if he too yearned for what she did. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he moved his hand and covered hers with his. His touch was tentative, as if he feared she might pull away. But she held firm, her fingers entwining with his.

He was warm to the touch. She remembered that much from the first days of their marriage, but it felt better to be reminded of it this way. Almost as though he was tender towards her, like they never spent any time being purposefully apart from each other.

She felt like they were getting somewhere, a tentative bridge forming between their fractured hearts. Carried away by the newfound closeness, she hesitated only for a moment before reaching out, her hand trembling as it neared his face. Her fingers were delicate, soft against the rough texture of his skin as she traced the scar that marred his otherwise perfect visage.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing at the intimate touch. She moved slowly, her fingers gliding over the jagged lines. Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if she could heal his old wounds with her tenderness.

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. Instead, she saw vulnerability, a crack in his formidable armor that allowed her a glimpse of the man beneath the warrior’s facade. His eye, the one not covered by the patch, was wide and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name - something between longing and fear.

With a gentle caress, her finger traced the path of the scar down to his cheekbone, lingering there for a moment before moving toward the eyepatch. She felt his breath warm against her hand, the rise and fall of his chest quickening as her fingers danced over the leather. The eyepatch was cool and rough under her touch, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his skin.

She paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the tension coiling in him. Would he push her away? Would he retreat back into the cold distance that had defined their relationship for so long? But he remained still, his gaze fixed on hers, a silent permission in his eyes.

Encouraged by his silence, she allowed her fingers to explore the edges of the eyepatch, feeling the worn leather against her skin. Her thumb brushed over the strap that held it in place, her touch gentle and soothing. He shivered, a barely perceptible tremor that ran through him, and she felt a surge of something warm and hopeful rise within her.

His reaction was slow, almost imperceptible. He closed his eye briefly, as if savoring the sensation, then opened it to meet her gaze again. She could see the conflict within him, the struggle between the desire to protect himself and the yearning for this rare moment of intimacy.

She moved closer, her body almost pressing against his as she continued her exploration. The curve of her breasts brushed against his chin, and she felt the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles. Her fingers lingered on the eyepatch, tracing the lines where it met his skin, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her touch. His hand reached up, covering hers. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, tender silence.

“Will you let me see?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

His hesitance and silence said more than his words ever could.

The moment stretched, taut and fragile, until it seemed to snap under the weight of unspoken fears. She saw the flicker of rejection in his eye, a retreat behind the barriers he had so carefully constructed. Her face fell, the light of hope dimming as she realized she had pushed too far. But she understood; perhaps he needed more time. Withdrawing her hand, she felt the ghost of his touch linger on her skin, a burning reminder of the closeness they had almost shared.

He grasped her wrist gently, as if he wanted to ask her to stay, but the words remained unspoken. She did not want to stay unless he wholeheartedly asked her to. His grip was firm, yet she felt the reluctance in it, the silent struggle to decide whether to hold on and let go.

“I should go,” she said softly, gathering her skirts. “Your mother and sister await me at luncheon, and it would be unseemly to be late.”

He watched her walk away, her steps slow and measured, each one pulling her further from the fragile connection they had started to form. Left alone with his son, Aemond felt the weight of his failure press down on him, a cold, heavy burden that settled in his chest.

Aerys slept in the cot nearby, his tiny body trembling with each breath as if the sickness that plagued him might take him at any moment. Aemond moved his chair closer to the cot, peering down at the infant with a mixture of fear and determination. The soft tufts of silver hair marked him as undoubtedly his, a tiny mirror of his own lineage.

How many nights had she spent alone, watching over him like this? Scared that if she stepped away, Aerys may be gone?

In a quiet tone that would otherwise go unheard, he whispered to his son, his voice thick with emotion. “Ao kostagon’t tepagon bē va īlva, riñnykeā.” [You can’t give up on us, child.] After a moment of composure, he continued. “Ziry braved vīlībāzma naejot tepagon ao naejot issa. Gaomagon daor henujagon zȳhon.” [She braved battle to give you to me. Do not leave her.]

Aemond's voice trembled, the words almost breaking under the weight of his desperation. He held his son closer, cradling the tiny, fragile body against his chest. He thought of his wife's strength, the pain she had endured, and winced at the realization of how badly he had treated her. His neglect, his coldness - they had all but shattered her.

He had done enough to her. The last thing he wanted was to see her lose Aerys too.

The dim light of the chamber cast soft shadows on Aemond's face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrowed brow etched deep with worry. His eye, normally a piercing blue, now seemed almost muted, dulled by the depth of his concern. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on his son’s chest, feeling the weak but steady rise and fall of his breaths. Aerys stirred slightly, his tiny fingers curling around a strand of Aemond’s hair. The grip was weak, but determined.

“You are the blood of the dragon,” he continued, his voice a fierce whisper. “You will grow strong.”

The Dragonpit was packed, the air heavy with the murmurs of the gathered smallfolk and the flickering light of countless torches. She stood beside Aemond, her posture as straight and regal as she could manage, her heart pounding in her chest. The spectacle of Aegon's coronation was unfolding before her eyes, a momentous event that would shape the future of the Targaryen family.

Hers.

The ceremony began with the Grand Maester stepping forward, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror held reverently in his hands. The weight of history seemed to press down on the room, making every breath feel heavy, every movement deliberate. Aegon - looking more like a squabbling, crying child than a King - ascended the steps to the dais, his face a mask of acceptance.

And when her husband nodded to his new King, she bowed deep.

She watched as Aegon’s expression shifted from indifference to a flicker of recognition of the power now bestowed upon him. The crowd erupted in cheers, their loyalty and fervor palpable, yet she felt a pang of unease amidst the celebration.

Beside her, Aemond stood tall and vigilant, his eye never leaving the proceedings. She glanced at him, seeking comfort in his composed demeanor, his presence a steady anchor in the sea of chaos. The noise of the crowd swelled, and she could feel the anticipation hanging thick in the air, a tangible force that seemed to wrap around them all.

Aegon, now crowned, raised Blackfyre high above his head, the ancient sword gleaming in the firelight. The sight was awe-inspiring, a symbol of power and legitimacy. Yet, beneath the grandeur, she sensed the underlying tensions and overheard the words that Helaena kept mumbling.

There is a beast beneath the boards.

Her feet shifted, and she heard the hollow sound that the ground made when her shoe met the surface. A hollow sound that comes when feet meets -

The boards.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, a low rumble that grew into a deafening roar. Gasps of shock and fear rippled through the crowd, and she instinctively reached for Aemond’s hand. Before she could react further, the floor of the Dragonpit exploded upward, sending debris and chaos flying in all directions.

Rhaenys, astride her dragon Meleys, emerged from the smoke and dust, her presence formidable and terrifying. The dragon’s scales shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its eyes blazing with fury. The people scattered, screams of panic filling the air as the beast roared, the sound reverberating through the hall and shaking her to her core.

Her heart raced, terror gripping her as she stared at the massive dragon, its wings spreading wide, casting a shadow over the entire chamber. Aemond’s hand tightened around hers, pulling her behind him protectively. She could feel his body tense, ready to shield her from any danger. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, a faint surge of gratitude washed through.

You never had to ask.

Meleys roared again, the sound like thunder, and the heat of its breath washed over them. She could see the flames flickering in the dragon's throat, the promise of destruction just a heartbeat away. Rhaenys, regal and unyielding, locked eyes with Alicent, a silent challenge passing between them.

Aemond stepped forward, his presence a wall of defiance and strength. “Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. She obeyed without hesitation, her body pressed close to his, drawing comfort from his unwavering resolve.

The dragon’s eyes fixed on them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic drumbeat in her ears, and the cold sweat on her palms. Every muscle in her body was taut with fear, and she kept her eyes firmly set to the ground.

This is how I die. Do you call it a dragonrider’s death when you don’t ride a dragon?

My son. AerysAerysAerys-

Aemond.

Rhaenys stared at them all, the weight of her decision hanging in the air. Meleys shifted, the ground trembling beneath its weight, and for a moment, it seemed as though the dragon would unleash its fury. But then, as if making a choice that defied all expectations, Rhaenys turned Meleys away, the dragon's wings beating powerfully as they ascended through the shattered roof of the Dragonpit.

The relief was overwhelming, a rush of emotions that left her weak at the knees. She clung to Aemond, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. The hall was filled with the sounds of weeping and the murmurs of disbelief, the aftermath of the encounter leaving everyone shaken.

Aemond’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern. She nodded, still trembling, her heart beginning to slow as the adrenaline ebbed away.

She did not notice how closely he held her when it came down to it - for the very first time.

Aemond's fingers dug into Sylvi's hips as he thrust into her from behind, each movement fierce and relentless. Her back arched under the pressure of his hand, pushing her down onto the bed. The room was filled with the raw sounds of their coupling, echoing off the walls.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with her moans. His grip tightened, nails biting into her flesh as he drove into her harder, seeking release in the violent act. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, an intoxicating mix that fueled his aggression. "Gods,” He growled, his voice a low, primal rumble. He watched as her body responded to each thrust, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed, the sheen of sweat on her skin glistening in the candlelight. She was a willing vessel for his frustrations, and he took her with a ferocity that bordered on madness.

Her moans turned into cries of pleasure, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her as she braced herself against his onslaught. He felt a dark satisfaction at the way he could bend her to his will, the power he wielded in these moments of raw, unbridled lust.

The climax came in a wave of intense pleasure, his body shuddering as he spilled into her. He collapsed over her, panting, his chest pressed against her back as he tried to catch his breath. The aftermath was a stark contrast to the ferocity of their coupling – a quiet, intimate moment where their bodies remained entwined, slick with sweat and the remnants of their shared passion.

Her arms wrapped around Aemond's naked body, her touch tender and soothing after their rough encounter. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from the sheets.

Aemond's breathing gradually slowed, his chest rising and falling against hers as he allowed himself to relax in her embrace. His mind, however, was anything but at ease. He thought back to the scene that had haunted him since he left his chambers earlier: his wife, cradling their son, her eyes red from crying, her body and mind still fragile from the ordeal of facing a dragon at Aegon’s coronation.

"She was crying before I left to come here," he began, his voice a low murmur against her neck. "Holding our son, so shocked by near-death.. It didn’t seem as terrifying to me, but... she was so scared. She's worried, you know. About the impending war."

The Madame’s fingers traced gentle circles on his back, encouraging him to continue. "She doesn't have dragonrider's blood," he went on, almost to himself. "I didn’t know how to comfort her. I want to help, but I don’t know how."

Her hands moved up to his shoulders, her touch grounding him. Her presence was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. He lowered his head to her chest, his lips finding her breast. He suckled softly, kneading the soft flesh, seeking solace in the familiar act.

Holding their son brought comfort to his wife, and for him, coming here to the Madame, was his escape. The warmth and intimacy they shared, however fleeting, was his way of coping with the weight of his responsibilities and the emotional distance between him and his wife. As he continued to be held, he couldn’t help but wonder if he and his wife would ever find this kind of comfort in each other; if he’d ever find the courage or the trust to truly tell her what he needs without worrying about losing her respect.

If he'd walked in and held her while she cried instead of leaving her to it and coming here, could he have made her feel safer?

Too many questions, not enough courage for answers. Too much pride and so little sense between them both.

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest as Vhagar soared through the stormy skies back to King's Landing. The cold wind bit at his face, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread gripping his heart.

He had killed Luke. His nephew, his blood.

The act had been unintended, a consequence of their reckless chase, but it was done. There would be no undoing it. If there hadn't been a war before, there certainly was now. The weight of his actions settled heavily upon him, more suffocating than the fiercest storm. As the familiar silhouette of the Red Keep came into view, a storm of emotions churned within him. Guilt, fear, and a desperate need for comfort twisted together, making his insides writhe.

He dismounted Vhagar with a heavy heart, his drenched form slipping through the darkened halls of the castle like a shadow. His mind raced, an entire host of thoughts battering against the walls of his consciousness. He needed solace, a place to hide from the storm he had created. The whorehouse crossed his mind briefly, a familiar escape, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough this time. He needed... he needed...

Before he knew it, his feet had taken him to her apartments.

Her. His wife.

He stood before the door, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open. His wife was readying for bed, her state of undress evident. She wore a robe over her shift, her hair loose around her shoulders. The soft light from the hearth bathed her in a gentle glow, as he took her in. She turned to him in shock, her eyes widening at the sight of him. It was clear how rare this occurrence was, how unexpected his presence was in her chambers. But she was quick to pull him in, taking in his drenched form with a worried expression.

"Husband, what has happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

He did not answer, his eyes trained on her as she moved. Her exposed skin drew his attention, and he found himself wondering.

Was she softer? Kinder? Would she hold him in her soft arms if he so wished? Did he deserve it from her? Would she shame him?

She kept asking, but he remained silent, his mind too chaotic to form coherent words. She moved to find him something to dry off with, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist in a death grip.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice raw and choked, barely more than a breath.

She looked up at him, her confusion gradually giving way to a quiet curiosity. He gently guided her arms around his cold and damp waist, his touch unexpectedly tender. This was not a whore; this was his wife. She deserved to be treated differently.

At first, she froze, her body tense and uncertain, but slowly, she let herself relax – at least as much as she could manage with a husband who had sought her out for the first time in a year.

He felt her hesitation and understood the significance of her yielding. The weight of his guilt pressed harder against his heart, but he clung to this moment of closeness, desperate for the comfort he so craved.

"What has happened, husband? Why are you here?" she asked softly, parts of her words muffled into his chest.

He remained silent, waiting to see what she would do. Her repeated questions slowly stopped, a resigned understanding settling in her gaze. In the silence, he became acutely aware of her form – soft, untouched by anyone but him, made for him. The thin layers of her robe and shift did little to keep his hands from exploring her.

His fingers trembled as they traced the curve of her spine, brushing against the delicate fabric of her robe. Every slight movement, every breath, every shiver she made became magnified in his mind. Her body responded to his touch with a delicate gasp, and he felt a surge of something he couldn't quite name – a need, a longing, a desperate desire for solace in her embrace.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, every intake of breath, every flinch and gasp. He noticed a stray hair that had fallen across her face, the way the delicate hairs on her skin raised at his touch, the way her eyes widened and then softened. Each detail etched itself into his mind, a stark contrast to the murder that had driven him here.

She tightened her arms around him, her touch gentle yet firm. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent – lilacs and something uniquely her that anchored him to this moment, to her. It was a comfort stronger than any he had ever received, yet calm and grounding at the same time.

His hands roamed her back, feeling the delicate curve of her waist, the slight tremor in her muscles as she responded to his touch. He pressed his lips to her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Her breath hitched, and he felt the vibration of her voice as she whispered his name, a question and a plea all at once.

"Aemond," she murmured, her voice breaking the silence. His body reacts in shivers and heat at the sound of his name upon her lips. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Had she ever said his name out loud before? He did not know. But he wanted to hear it again and again until the world as he knew it ended. Perhaps it was the guilt - over Luke, or over his neglect of his wife - he did not know. But it was all bubbling at the surface now, and he was much more open and vulnerable than he’d ever been.

He bent his head down, his eye locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze seemed to drown out the room, focusing solely on her. He could see the concern, the worry etched in her features, and it tore at him. He couldn't tell her, not yet. Not about the blood on his hands, the life he had taken, not why he was here and what he’d wanted.

But he could let her consume him, to forget. He could lose himself in her.

He felt the warmth of her skin, the softness of her curves against him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to forget the horrors of the night. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingers, memorizing every curve, every angle. Her skin was smooth and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, damp leathers clinging to him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers he couldn't give. Despite her confusion, the turmoil in his mind quieted, replaced by the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat. She was his anchor, his solace, and he clung to her like a lifeline in the storm.

Wordlessly, he moved back enough to get a good look at her, his eyes tracing her form with a reverence that made her pulse quicken. He then slowly untied the front of her robe, the silk falling away with a whisper. His hands fell to her shoulders, pausing there for a moment as he sighed. As he pushed the sleeves down, his hands traced the newly revealed skin - his fingers glided from her collarbone to her shoulders, down her arms, and finally to her fingers, which he intertwined with his own. The robe slipped to the floor, leaving her in a thin shift that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

His eyes remained locked on hers, the intensity of his gaze a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate need to be anchored by her presence. He took her trembling hands and placed them on his damp leathers, his touch firm but gentle, giving her silent permission—no, a quiet command—to undress him. His breath hitched slightly as he waited for her to take the lead.

She moved slowly, her fingers deftly working the buckles and straps, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he stood before her in only his trousers. Her hands hover over his chest, her touch hesitant, almost afraid, as if she's not sure she's allowed to touch him. His skin was warm under her fingertips, his heart pounding just beneath the surface.

His hands covered hers, guiding them lower, to the waistband of his trousers. His touch was both a plea and a command, silently asking, demanding, begging her to take this final barrier away. She did, her movements slow and deliberate, until he stood bare before her, exposed in every sense of the word.

She did not dare try to take off his eyepatch, not this time.

He watched her intently, noting every flinch, every gasp, every shiver that runs through her. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin, exploring every inch with a tenderness that speaks of his desperation for her. He needed this moment, her touch, to forget what he'd done to Luke, to drown the guilt that threatened to consume him. Every breath he took was a reminder of his failures, every brush of her skin against his a lifeline that pulled him back from the proverbial edge.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder - not her lips, he had not kissed her on the lips since their wedding ceremony. His hands roamed her body, mapped out the places that made her gasp, the spots that made her arch into him. He was attuned to her every reaction, his focus entirely on her.

All he asked for in return - with no words - is that she make him feel safe for this one night.

With his body bare and hers still clad in her shift, he silently gestured to her bed with a tilt of his head. She moved toward it, her movements graceful yet hesitant, and then crawled to the back, letting her spine rest against the headboard. He stood there for a moment, watching her, his breath uneven and his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

He did not miss the way she looked at him. Desire flickered in her eyes, growing with each second her gaze roved over his body. Her eyes widened when they settled on his manhood, and he could see the anticipation building within her. She expected him to take her tonight, he knew. He hadn't given any indication otherwise in the last few moments, and she had no clue what he actually wanted; or why.

Would she welcome him to her bed if she knew he was a kinslayer?

The thought gnawed at him, but he chose not to tell her. She might not offer her true acceptance, but he would take her false comfort tonight – even if she thought it true.

He moved to the side of the bed with all his characteristic grace. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. When he lifted his knee to place it on the plush mattress, she shifted to make space for him. He laid down beside her, his movements deliberate and slow, as if fearing she might vanish if he was too hasty. She mirrored his actions, and soon they were facing each other, their warm breaths mingling in the stillness of the room.

Their eyes locked, and he saw her questioning gaze. Her next words, soft and tentative, knocked the breath out of his lungs.

"Are you alright?"

For a moment, he couldn't answer, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and saw the worry etched in the lines of her face, the softness of her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for his response.

"I will be," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

Tentatively, he placed his hand on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shift. He slid the material up, his fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her leg.

"Gevie.” [Beautiful.]

His fingers continued their journey, moving to her inner thigh. Her legs shivered at his touch, and he smirked for a moment before he withdrew his hand and moved closer. Their bodies were now a hairsbreadth apart, the heat between them palpable.

His hands moved to her breasts, feeling their fullness beneath her shift. He was acutely aware of every breath she took, every flinch and gasp that escaped her lips. Each reaction to his touch drew him further into the present moment, away from the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him. Her body was a haven, a sanctuary where he could lose himself, if only for a while.

Encouraged by her soft gasps, he continued to knead the mounds of flesh and pinch her pert nipples, his touch gentle yet insistent through the shift. Lowering his head, he nestled himself at her bosom, inhaling deeply. The scent of lilacs and milk overtook him, and he let out a contented sigh.

"You are a mother... the mother of my heir," he murmured into her chest, his voice a mix of reverence and disbelief.

She said nothing, but when her initial shock faded, she began to comb her fingers through his soft hair, humming the same song she sang to their son to sleep. The melody was soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. He didn't know if her singing was to calm him or herself, but he found solace in the gentle rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took.

He took in the way her body trembled slightly beneath him, the softness of her skin, the rhythmic beating of her heart against his cheek. This was not the harsh, immediate and uncertain release he sought at the whorehouse.

This was more, more, more.

Sleep came to him easily in her arms, draped in her comfort; devoid of any nightmares, dreams, or heavy thoughts.

If she wondered why he'd simply laid with her rather than fuck her, she did not ask.

Would she welcome him again when she finds out what he did?

The council branded him a kinslayer when he told them what he'd done. He embraced it, staring into their eyes, defiant and unyielding. He told them he did it on purpose, each word a dagger thrown with precision. Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

Aegon patted his back, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "A job well done, drawing first blood in the King's name," he said, his voice a blend of admiration and malice. His grandfather's face remained a mask, revealing nothing. Criston was disappointed, his disapproval a heavy weight in the room. And his mother...

His mother was disgusted, her eyes filled with a sorrow he had never seen before. When he stepped out and walked through the corridors, the word had spread like wildfire.

Kinslayer.

The whispers followed him like a relentless shadow. Servants and maids stepped out of his way, their gazes avoiding his. The tension was palpable, a living thing that tightened the air around him. He wanted to escape them all, to flee to the skies where their judgment could not reach him. But before then, he wanted to see them.

He stood near the doorway as she had a few days prior, watching her rock their fitful, sick son to sleep. Her movements were gentle, contrasting all the shock, anger and brashness he’d seen since he stepped out of her room before she awoke. He wanted her to look at him, to see beyond the blood and the sin. He was asking too much of her, he knew that. They were strangers bound by duty, their recent shared moments brief and fraught with his own selfish needs for comfort.

His heart pounded as she finally met his gaze. He was not prepared for the slight fear in her eyes. It cut through him deeper than any sword ever could. She looked at him as if he were a creature she could not recognize.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed in his mind, a relentless chant that drowned out everything else. He took a step forward, his hands trembling. "I—" he began, but the words died in his throat. What could he say? How could he explain the unexplainable, justify the unforgivable? She held their son closer, her grip tightening protectively. The room was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what he had done and what it meant for them. His mind raced, filled with a cacophony of anger, regret, and despair.

The need to escape surged within him again. He wanted to flee to the skies, to find solace in the cold, indifferent clouds. But he couldn't move, couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of her fear-stricken eyes.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

With a heavy heart and a mind in turmoil, he turned and walked back into the shadowed corridors, each step echoing the relentless chant of his new title.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed through the empty halls, a reminder of the path he had chosen and the price he would pay.

If he’d told her last night as he laid in her arms, would she have understood?

He’d never know.

MASTERLIST

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prettypinkprincessa · 5 months

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Rafe with a shy reader!!

You are too pure for this world. Is what he thought when he first laid eyes on you. Cute big doe eyes, soft cardigans, and the little tiny sketch book you carried everywhere with you. You were adorable.

“Hey, kid.” He spoke out. You jumped slightly at his sudden outburst and smiled, waving at him as he sat down infront of you.

“Do you talk?” he asked. Your eyes widened and your lips fell into a pout. You weren’t quite fond of your own voice. It was quiet and small and everytime you spoke someone asked you to speak up. It got to the point where you just stopped talking in general.

You nodded your head slowly and looked away. Avoiding his heavy gaze. He caught on pretty quick.

“Whats your name?” He asked slyly. Knowing that you’d have to talk.

You looked up slowly from your sketchbook and sighed.

“Y/n..” you spoke softly. Giving him your name then going straight back to drawing. He was shocked to say the least. Taken aback by your voice. It was so soft and sweet, he wondered why you never spoke. And ever since then he’s made your life hell by making sure you speak everytime he sees you.

�� he would purposely trip you (and catch you) or scare you just to hear your cute little whimpers and screams. He found every little noise you made adorable.

💗he would invite you over for sleepovers at his house just to listen to the cute little noises you make in your sleep. (Yes, kinda stalker-ish but he’s head over heels for you)

💗 he would act overly interested in stories you tell so you wouldn’t get self conscious and go all quiet on him. He’s grown used to your shyness and knows how to bring you out of your shell.

💗 every time you want something he makes you use your words.

“rafey?” You say while pointing to his hand.

He looks down and sighs lovingly.

“Hm? Use your words baby.”

You whine lightly, “can I hold your hand?” You whisper, as if you were telling him some deep secret.

He chuckles softly and smiles, “of course, baby.”

💞 not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!!

#fanfic #fypツ #tumblr fyp #fyp #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drabble #headcanon

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littlexdeaths · 14 days

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eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two |

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even more pretty with the afternoon sunlight shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head in distain. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your… admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump up your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own seat. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go… I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like a bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh… sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

#the freak writes 🫧#idk if this is any good #but I’m yearning so #my series: let’s go- don’t wait 🫧#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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Yandere Head Canons:

Your Loyal Servant

Yandere Villainess/ Maid x Isekai Princess Fem Reader

TW: obsession, reader is trapped in the girl love/ GL book, DARK CONTENT, horror, yandere themes, cannibalism (reader consumes blood), SOMNIAPHILIA/ NONCON (nipple play), creepy behavior, abuse of power, betrayal, sapphic yearning, etc.

Della was once a princess of the shadow kingdom before she became your servant. A princess with dreams of ruling her kingdom until your kingdom invaded and decimated her home when she was eight. Your family’s knights easily seized her throne since her father had been greedy and tried to conquer your kingdom first. She could never forget the fire and death she saw that day… the day she was dragged up by her black locks and thrown into a cage on a cart to be sold off as a slave. The day her emotions died and left her an empty vessel.

Yet you were her saving grace. You were at the auction that day and you insisted to your butler that you had to buy her. “She’s my age! She can’t possibly become a slave, she’ll die!”

At first, Della was weary of you. Her small body curled up in her cage as she cowered in a fetal position. Did you purchase her to satiate some sort of sick sadistic tendency of yours? To rub in your family’s victory in her face? Della despised you… until you innocently smiled at her. Your hand outstretched to her dirty ones when your purchase was a success. “My name is (your name), what’s yours?”

And despite her current status of being a commoner, you never treated Della like one. You let her take baths with you and held her hand. You always requested her to lay beside you at night for a ‘sleepover.’ Della thought you were strange.

You often invited her for walks in your garden with you and shared your woes with her. Sometimes you’d even sneak her sweets from the tea parties you had to attend. If Della didn’t know any better, she’d say the two of you were friends. Best friends. Yet she never saw you as such. Your conversations were typically one sided.

“Della, I want you to be by my side until I’m old. Can you do that?” You were twelve when you made that request to her. Your maid smiled softly at you.

“Of course, mistress.” You puffed out your cheeks and pouted at her.

“It’s (your name)! You don’t have to be so formal with me all the time. Aren’t we friends?” Della just hummed which only made you sigh. All these years together and Della was still as stiff as a board. It would take years to tear down the walls around Della’s heart despite your attempts to be close to her… it made you terribly sad that you couldn’t tell Della your true secret. The secret that you were from another world trapped in the body of the original heroine, but you doubted she’d believe you. After all, you made it your goal to not die at the hands of this GL novel’s ice cold villainess. You did your absolute best not to let Della fall into depravity and turn to dark magic like she was supposed to in this doomed Yuri novel. You were on a mission to insure her happiness! At least not until you were ready to free her from servitude once you were married off with a nice sum of money. You didn’t want her to suffer…“I will always have your best interest in mind, Della. I just wished you’d see that…”

Even when the two of you grew older, you still insisted on spending time with Della. It often gave the poor maid a headache but she never complained. You were her mistress no matter how much she wanted to ring your pretty little neck with her hands. No matter how much your kindness secretly touched her heart. She was your loyal servant.

Della often found her cheeks flushed when the two of you became teenagers. She couldn’t believe you’d still try to get her to bathe you or lay beside you in bed. You two were practically adults now! That was indecent! Had you no shame as a lady?! Yet another thought couldn’t help but crawl into the back of Della’s mind. Was there a possibility you were attracted to her? The thought didn’t entirely bother Della. Most of the women in the empire were with other women so it wouldn’t be strange… right?

You often rained down compliments on Della but she hardly responded to them. She was still taciturn and stoic. You often felt as if you were conversing with a rock rather than your self-appointed ‘best friend.’ It made you feel even more lonely as the years went on. Were you doing this all for naught? Would Della still murder you like she would in the book? You hoped not! You still haven’t met your favorite character! The female lead! Except you weren’t the original, naive female lead that would be offed by the villainess…

As the two of you approached adulthood, you promoted her to head maid. Yet she still remained close to your side. You no longer asked her to bathe you or asked for ‘sleepovers,’ you were more lady like now. You also ceased with your compliments to her and her work, a small fact that bothered Della a bit. Didn’t you like her still? Why were you being so different?

Meanwhile you were antsy. The ball was coming up and you’d soon meet the female lead! She was a holy knight and she’d be the one to save the empire from the forces of evil… she was so cool and muscular! A butch from your sapphic dreams! You felt yourself internally fan girl out of excitement. Yet you didn’t want to express that to Della. No, you’d still remain civil with your maid since she didn’t seem to care much for your companionship…

Della brushed your hair as you sat on your stool, your hands in your lap as you hummed a soft tune to yourself.

And that’s when you dropped a bomb on Della. “I really enjoyed Stephanie’s cooking yesterday. Could you ask her to make me food again?” Stephanie? The new cook? What was so great about her cooking that made you praise her? Della was the one who doted on you. Della was the one who always took care of you.

“Ouch!” You jumped when Della accidentally tugged on your hair. “Della, that hurt-“ Your heart stopped in your chest when you glanced up at the look on Della’s face. Her eyes held a murderous glint in them which made you shudder. Oh god… was she going to hurt you?

Della snapped out of it the instant she heard your voice, she quickly bent down to make sure you were okay, but you swatted her hands away. “I’m sorry, Della… I can finish getting ready by myself.”

Della felt her world crash around her. She hadn’t meant to pull your hair… don’t kick her out. Please don’t do this… yet she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She instead, bit her lips and bowed her head to you. She then rushed out of your room in haste. It wasn’t until Della rounded the corner of the hall that one of the other maids pointed out that her lips were bleeding.

Della absentmindedly touched her lips and frowned. Never had she been so emotional… yet all these feelings were brought out by you. Her princess… her princess that she wanted to serve forever.

“Where is Stephanie?” Della softly asked the maid who quirked a brow. The maid told Della the location of the cook in a confused tone, “oh, she’s in the kitchen. Why?” Della just gave the maid a smile. “I just have a message for her is all.”

Yes… she was the head maid so she could use that to her advantage. She’d get the ginger bitch fired. You should only compliment Della. No one else mattered.

You were surprised when a plate was placed in front of you by Della. This wasn’t Stephanie’s cooking… this looked like Della’s. “Oh? What’s this?”

“Your favorite.” Della replied in her usual stiff tone. The maid poured you a cup of your favorite tea as well. Della wasn’t wrong but you couldn’t help but feel a bit suspicious of her. Where was Stephanie? Oh well… you’d eat your meal.

Della’s green eyes studied you as she watched you eat the meal without complaint. Your face scrunched up when the meat had a bit of a strong iron taste to it, but you kept eating. Della played with the bloody bandages on her fingers as her smile grew wide. She hoped you liked the way she tasted. What better way to stay with you forever than to give you some of her blood?

When you retired for the night, Della snuck into your room to lay beside you. Her olive hands snuck under your dress to cup your chest. Her fingers pinched your nipples to see your cute reactions. She hadn’t realized how sensitive you were… did you need her to take care of your body’s needs? She’d do it. Della would do anything you asked of her… just don’t throw her away. Della pushed your dress up as she licked her lips at the sight of your bare body. What a dirty girl you were to not wear undergarments… perhaps she’d teach you a thing or two about being indecent?

You woke up the next day with sore nipples. They were a bit swollen and red and you couldn’t figure out why. You nearly cried when you accidentally touched one. Did you have an allergic reaction to your meal yesterday? No… this was just so odd.

Della dutifully entered your room and began to help you get dressed. Her green eyes filled with satisfaction from her handiwork on your nipples. You seemed so confused… like a little lamb. Della thought it was so cute.

Della began to order the other maids to work far away from you. She needed to get you to alone so she could express her feelings for you properly… so none of the other servants knew she was going to fuck you. She didn’t want any rumors to spread about her darling princess! Della would be a horrible maid if she did that…

You were a bit shocked with how touchy Della was throughout the week. She was stuck to you like a shadow now. And you had yet to see another servant other than Della attend to your needs. You found it so odd…

“Della? Where are all my personal maids?” You asked as you sat on your stool. Della scowled for a brief second before she recovered to her usual icy exterior.

“You only need me, my princess. They’re all inferior.” You froze and turned your body around to look at your maid.

“Pardon?” You’re shocked when Della’s hands grab your face. “D-Della-“

Della presses her lips to yours in a passionate kiss. Her large chest pressed against yours as she pushed you against your vanity. You’re absolutely mind boggled at this development. What was happening?! You thought Della hated you.

“Princess… my princess.” Della whispered against your lips as she reached a hand to undo her bun. Her black curls now cascaded down her back like a cape. “I’m your forever servant and only I can properly fulfill your needs. And I mean all of your needs.”

You gasped when she yanked your legs up onto her shoulders. Your eyes widened in confusion until your face flushed in realization. Della didn’t hate you… Della was obsessed with you.

“So let me please you properly, princess. I swear I won’t disappoint you.”

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