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thoughtdaughtersworld · 3 days ago

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Silent Lullabies Pt 3.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Y/n and Azriel's relationship is filled with tension and unspoken feelings, leaving both of them struggling to confront the distance growing between them.

TW!!: emotional turmoil, angst, drinking!!

Sorry that this took long, school has been beating my a**.

Authors Note: It's gonna go downhill from here and she's going to be really struggling like emotionally and physically before she starts healing. I hope you guys enjoy!!

************************************************************

Mor and Feyre had spent the past few days gently coaxing you out of bed, urging you to get some fresh air, to take even the smallest step forward. Today, for the first time, you gave in. Not for them, but because you could admit, if only to yourself, that the walls of your room had begun to close in on you, making you feel suffocated.

The crisp air greets you as you step into the garden, filling your lungs with something that almost feels like relief. Almost. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, but the warmth barely touches you.

Mor and Feyre walk beside you, their voices light and hopeful as they try to pull you into conversation.They talk about everything and nothing, weaving words in the air between you, trying to anchor you back to the present. But it was like listening through water.. muffled and distant. You nod at the right moments, but you don’t really hear them. Your mind drifts, weightless and detached.

“Have either of you seen Azriel?”

The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you’d spoken them, your voice breaking the rhythm of their conversation. It was the first thing you’d said to them all day, and it caught them off guard. Their exchange of glances was subtle, but not subtle enough.

Feyre was the first to respond. “He’s attending to some court matters right now,” she said carefully, her tone soft but uncertain. “But he’ll be back soon.”

The hesitation in her voice wasn’t lost on you. The words hung in the air, heavy and unsatisfying. They didn’t sound like the truth. Not entirely. And the bitterness it left in your mouth was indescribable.

Your chest tightened, frustration mingling with the ache already there. “I’ll be going back to my room,” you said abruptly, your voice strained. The pity in their glances, the gentle coddling,it was unbearable. Every attempt they made to help only seemed to remind you of how broken you felt.

You make your way inside, the walls of the house pressing in on you as the weight in your chest grows heavier. You don’t think, you just move, your feet carrying you toward Rhys’s extensive wine collection. You knew this was the last thing you needed, but at this moment, reason didn’t matter. You needed an escape, even if only for a little while.

The room is silent, the dim glow of candlelight casting long shadows against the walls. The air is thick with the scent of aged oak and spiced wine as you step closer to the towering shelf where the bottles are kept. Your fingers tremble as you reach out, the cool glass smooth beneath your touch. The bottle is heavy in your grasp, and as you tilt it slightly, the quiet slosh of liquid inside fills the space, sending a shiver down your spine.

A lump rises in your throat. The sound should bring you comfort, should promise relief. But instead, it fills you with dread.

Still, you don’t put it back. You can’t.

You carry the bottle to your room, each step heavy as if the weight of the moment is pressing down on your chest. Once inside, you sit down against your bed, the cool bottle in your hand a fleeting comfort. The first sip is sharp, bitter, but you don’t care. It’s something, a fleeting numbness to give your mind a break.

Time seems to slip away from you as you drink, each sip taking you further from the reality of your grief and you find yourself lying on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The same ceiling that had been your quiet companion over the last few days, offering no answers, only silence.

The pain doesn’t go away, but it dulls, just enough to allow you a breath, a fleeting moment of rest. You know, deep down, that Azriel would be heartbroken if he found you like this. He would want to fix it, to ease your sorrow, but you couldn’t bear to face him like this. Not when you felt so broken.

But tonight, thankfully, he didn't come. The silence of the room, the emptiness of the space, is almost a relief in some strange way. You’re alone with your grief, your sadness, the hollow ache in your chest.

And so you let the tears come, hot and raw, pouring down your face as you grieve. Grief for the son you lost, for the future that would never be.

*******************************************************

Azriel had been racking his mind for days, throwing himself into work to avoid the crushing weight of his failure. If he couldn't ease your pain, if he couldn't reach you, then at the very least, he could do this. He could hunt down the ones responsible and make them suffer. He owed you that much.

His spies had been working relentlessly under his command, tracking down every lead, every whisper in the shadows. He hadn't given himself a moment of rest, hadn’t stopped for even a second, not until he was sure that everyone involved in the attack would feel the same agony that had rooted itself deep in his chest. His training had become more brutal, more punishing so much that even Cassian and Rhys had started to worry. But none of that mattered. Pain was a welcome distraction.

He sat in his office now, his fingers pressed against his temples, exhaustion threatening to consume him. His shadows swirled around him, whispering fragments of information. The others lingered outside your door, unwilling to leave you alone for even a moment. They had been watching over you constantly, silent guardians in the absence of the one who should have been at your side.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts. Rhys and Cassian stepped inside, their expressions grim.

“We found some of them,” Rhys said, his voice measured but tight with unspoken fury. He, too, had been searching. He knew Azriel needed this, and he had sworn to do whatever it took to help his brother find justice or at the very least, vengeance.

Azriel lifted his gaze, the dark circles under his eyes making the icy intensity of them even more striking. “How many?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“We got two,” Rhys admitted. “But they refuse to give up their leader.”

Azriel stood, his grip tightening around Truth-Teller, the blade he had taken from you in fear that you might turn it on yourself. His shadows pulsed around him, eager for violence.

“Leave them to me,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He strode toward the door, but Cassian stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“What do you plan to do, Az?” Cassian asked, his tone cautious but firm.

Azriel’s patience was thin. His nerves were frayed, his restraint all but gone. He met Cassian’s gaze with a cold, unyielding stare. “Whatever it takes.”

Before either of them could stop him, Azriel winnowed straight to the dungeon

The moment he entered, the stench of sweat, blood, and despair clung to him like a second skin. The air was thick with fear, the kind that seeped into the bones and settled there. It was familiar. He welcomed it.

Azriel stepped into the first cell, silent as death itself. The prisoner hadn't noticed him yet, too lost in his own misery to sense the shadows curling around the room, dimming the already faint torchlight.

The man was slumped against the wall, shackles biting into his wrists, his breathing ragged. He hadn’t noticed Azriel yet, not until the door creaked shut behind him. The sound made the man jolt, his head snapping up, his eyes darting frantically around the cell.

Azriel didn’t speak at first. He simply stood in the darkness, letting the silence stretch, letting the man feel the weight of his presence. Fear was a weapon, and Azriel wielded it with deadly precision.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward, into the dim light. His face was expressionless, his Siphons glowing faintly, his wings casting monstrous shadows against the walls.

Slowly, Azriel emerged from the shadows, Truth-Teller glinting in his hand.

The man looked up, and froze.

Azriel tilted his head, his voice quiet, almost gentle.

“Shall we begin?”

********************************************************

You wake up to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, your head pounding slightly from last night’s activity. Blinking, you shift under the covers and freeze when you see Azriel sitting in the chair across from your bed.

Your heart stutters, a wave of relief washing over you before something sharper cuts through it..uncertainty. You’re thankful you had the sense to shove the empty bottle under your bed before falling asleep. He hadn’t been visiting as much lately, and now that he was here, you couldn’t help the selfish thought that slithered into your mind. Had he found someone else to be there for him? Someone who could give him what you couldn’t?

The idea alone makes your stomach twist, your heart drop.

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He just watches you, his face unreadable, his hazel eyes dark with something you can’t quite place.

Your gaze drifts over him, his unkempt hair, the deep shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. He looked exhausted. You swallow past the lump in your throat, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “You look like hell.”

Azriel huffs a breath, something like a laugh, but not quite. “So do you.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts your face. Azriel watches you, his gaze unwavering, searching. He always had this way of looking at you, like he saw too much, like he could peel back every layer until there was nothing left to hide. It used to bring you comfort. Now, it only makes you feel exposed.

You force yourself to hold his stare. “Where were you?”

He hesitates. Just for a second. But it’s enough.

“Court handlings,” he finally says, voice careful, measured.

A lie.

You know it immediately, the way his eyes flicker, the way his fingers tighten slightly against his thigh. The realization sends a sharp sting through your chest.

Why was he lying?

Your mind spirals before you can stop it. Had he truly found someone else?

You nod slowly, forcing yourself to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat. “Right.”

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then you turn away, shifting beneath the covers. “I’m going back to bed.”

Something flashes across his face, hurt, maybe, or frustration. He doesn’t answer.

Azriel steps forward, but you pull back, suddenly exhausted. “Just go,” you murmur, rubbing a hand over your face. “If you won’t tell me the truth, then just… go.”

For a moment, you think he might fight it. That he might stay. But then his shadows shift, and without another word, he’s gone.

And for the first time since Azriel walked into your room, you wish he hadn’t come at all.

********************************************************

You step into the library and finally exhale, the weight on your chest easing just enough to let you breathe. This place had always been your refuge, long before Azriel..before everything. Here, the silence wasn’t suffocating; it was soothing. The books, the worn scent of parchment and ink, the soft glow of the faelights, it all wrapped around you like an old friend, welcoming you home.

It was the first time you had ventured out in a while, and yet, you hadn’t been able to ask Azriel or anyone else for help. You couldn’t bear the pity in their eyes, the lingering stares, the questions no one dared to ask but that burned in the air between you.

The tension with Azriel had become unbearable. He was always away on missions, always finding something to occupy himself while you remained here stuck, drowning in grief that everyone else seemed to have moved past. The only thing that stayed, the only thing that didn’t judge you, were the bottles hidden beneath your bed.

"Get it together," you whisper to yourself, trying to push away the lump that was threatening to rise in your throat. But it was hard, everything felt so raw.

You make your way to the front desk, and the moment Clotho sees you, she moves with quiet urgency, wrapping her arms around you in a hug. That meant she had heard.

You freeze for just a second before slowly relaxing into the embrace. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at your lips. Clotho,like every priestess in this library was wary of physical touch. They had all endured horrors that made something as simple as a hug feel foreign, even unsafe. And yet, Clotho had always welcomed you, always made you feel like you belonged.

She had been the first to open her arms to you when your family had let you go.

You let yourself sink into the warmth of it, the quiet comfort. Just for a moment.

"I'm fine," you murmur as you pull back, but Clotho only gives you a stern look, the kind that says you don’t have to lie to her, that she knows the truth even if you don’t say it.

She cups your cheeks gently, her touch light but grounding, then presses a soft kiss to your forehead, just like she always did when you were younger. The simple gesture undoes something inside you, and you swallow hard against the sting behind your eyes.

Clotho doesn’t let go of you just yet. Instead, she gently takes your hand and guides you toward a stack of books waiting to be shelved. There’s no explanation, no request, just quiet understanding.

This is what you used to do when you were younger. Back then, when your mind felt too heavy, when the weight of the world pressed down on your chest, Clotho would set you to work organizing the shelves. It helped then. She must have known it would help now, too.

You take the books without a word and begin placing them where they belong, running your fingers over the spines, breathing in the scent of parchment and ink. Slowly, steadily, your thoughts stop spiraling. Your mind quiets. The task grounding you in a way nothing else has in weeks.

By the time you place the last book on the shelf, you realize how much time has passed. The library’s fae lights are dimmer now, the soft glow of evening settling in. It’s dinnertime,so with a soft goodbye, you promise Clotho that you’ll return soon. She doesn’t press, only pats your hand before you step out of the library and into the cool evening time.

The walk to the House of Wind is longer than you remember. Or maybe it just feels that way because of the overwhelming pressure you felt.

When you step inside, the warmth of the house greets you, along with the scent of freshly cooked food. And the first person you see is Elain.

You and Elain had never really been close. It wasn’t animosity, it was more of an unspoken unease. Her ability, the things she knew without ever saying, made you feel exposed in a way you weren’t ready to confront.

She’s standing near the staircase, her soft, golden-brown hair catching the light from the chandeliers.She smiles warmly when she spots you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “You’re just in time for dinner,” she says, her voice gentle.

You try to return her smile, though it feels strained. “I’m just going to change,” you murmur, not quite meeting her gaze.

You make your way to your room and slowly change into something more comfortable.This would be the first time in weeks that you were eating with everyone instead of taking your meals in solitude. The thought makes your stomach twist with unease, but you remind yourself that this was a step, one you had to take if you ever wanted to feel like yourself again.

As you slip into your clothes, your gaze catches on the mirror. For a moment, you hesitate, but then you force yourself to look.

The reflection staring back at you feels like a stranger. Your eyes, once bright and full of life, now seemed hollow, empty. Dark circles cling stubbornly beneath them, the proof of many sleepless nights. Your skin looked pale, your shoulders slouched under the weight of invisible burdens.

Your hand moves instinctively to your stomach, and the moment your fingers graze it, you flinch. The touch sends a wave of emotions crashing over you..grief, shame, self-consciousness all swirling into a tight knot in your chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the wave of emotions back down before they can consume you. Not now. Not tonight.

Instead, you take a slow, deliberate breath and drop your hand, straightening your posture. You smooth out the fabric of your shirt, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on the simple act of walking out that door and sitting at the table with the others.

You make your way into the dining room, and immediately, the quiet buzz of conversation dies down. The inner circle is seated around the table—Feyre, Rhys,Nesta, Mor, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Varian and Azriel, his presence heavy in the air. They all seem surprised to see you, but your eyes stay locked on Azriel. He hadn’t come to see you, hadn’t spoken to you since… since everything started falling apart. And that silence between you was suffocating. It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, waiting for you to move, to say something.

Feyre’s voice breaks the tension. “Y/n?” It’s soft, but you can hear the underlying nerves. Her gaze flickered between you and Azriel, but no one knew how to approach the subject. The weight of their concern pressed on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, to even look at him.

You sit down, your heart heavy in your chest. You’re seated in front of Azriel, but your eyes are firmly fixed on the table, unwilling to meet his gaze. Cassian nudges you lightly with a grin, trying to ease the tension, and you offer him a small, strained smile. It’s the best you can do. You hate how distant you’ve become, how cold you feel even with them all around. You just don’t know how to fix it, how to get past this wall that’s built itself between you and everyone else.

The food appears on the table, but you can barely bring yourself to care. The hunger in your stomach is drowned out, and you struggle to find any appeal in the meal before you. You can feel the ache in your bones, the emptiness pulling you under, and the thought of drinking, of losing yourself in something that would numb the pain, rises to the surface. It’s getting harder to fight it. You don’t want to fall back into old habits, but everything feels so overwhelming.

“I have an announcement to make,” Feyre suddenly stands, her voice trembling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. You glance at Rhys, his face full of pride and warmth, and you know this is something they’ve been waiting for, something important. You brace yourself, though, not knowing what kind of announcement could break the tension in the air.

“I’m pregnant.”

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hyuniemyunie · 1 day ago

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cho hyun ju x top male reader⋆⭒˚.⋆

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): testing out her new pussy. yeah.

IM SO SORRY I DELETED YOUR ASK ON ACCIDENT LEO PFP IM SO SORRYYY😭😭😭

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Hyun-Ju had never been the type to lean on others. Independence had been burned into her bones from the moment she stepped into military training, reinforced by years of isolation, survival, and a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than capable. But now, as she lay in the soft glow of warm lamplight, body still adjusting to the changes she had long dreamed of, she found herself allowing something new—vulnerability.

The apartment was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of the city outside, faint sirens wailing in the distance, the occasional chatter of late-night pedestrians. It felt oddly peaceful. The kind of peace she had never thought she would deserve. But here, wrapped in fresh sheets and the warmth of another body beside her, she let herself breathe.

Her fingers ghosted over the band of gauze still lingering on her side, a subconscious reminder of the journey she had taken to reach this moment. The weight of the past was still there—heavy, aching—but the presence next to her grounded her in the present.

"How do you feel?" your voice was gentle, but there was an underlying firmness to it, a steady presence that always managed to keep her from spiraling too deep into her own thoughts.

Hyun-Ju let out a slow breath, tilting her head toward you. Even in the dim light, she could see the concern etched into your expression, the way your eyes traced over her as if making sure she was still real. She had been through hell, and you had been there, waiting, patient.

“I feel…” she paused, struggling to find the right words. For so long, her body had felt like a battlefield—one she fought against, one she endured, one she reshaped with every ounce of willpower she had. And now, after everything, it was hers. Truly hers. The realization was overwhelming in ways she hadn't expected. "Better. Lighter." She exhaled a small laugh. "Like I can finally just… exist."

You smiled, shifting closer, your hand reaching for hers. She let you take it, intertwining your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of your skin against hers was steady, reassuring. It made her feel seen, whole, despite the scars—both the ones that marked her body and the ones she carried inside.

“You deserve this," you murmured, thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. "Every part of it. The peace. The happiness. Feeling comfortable in your own skin."

She swallowed, emotions tightening in her throat. It had been so long since someone had looked at her this way—not just with desire, but with understanding. With patience.

A beat of silence passed before she spoke again, her voice softer now. "It's been a long time since I let myself be… held like this." A small, self-conscious chuckle escaped her. "I think I forgot how."

You didn’t rush to respond. Instead, you lifted her hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles before meeting her gaze again.

"Then let me remind you."

Her breath hitched slightly, heat creeping up her neck. There was something about the way you said it—not demanding, not forceful, just a quiet promise. A reassurance that she didn’t have to prove anything right now. She could just be.

She squeezed your hand in response, lips parting as if to say something, but in the end, she simply let herself melt into your touch.

Hyun-Ju tensed slightly as you leaned down, a flicker of self-consciousness passing through her. It was one thing to feel comfortable in her own skin, but it was another to be so vulnerable, so exposed. Especially when the body she now inhabited was still so new to her, the changes still settling into place.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding in her chest as you gently parted her legs, cool air meeting her newly formed folds. The gauze bandage was gone now, revealing smooth, unblemished skin that seemed to glisten softly in the low light. The sight of it, the reality of what she had endured and achieved, made her throat constrict with emotion. Your gaze was soft as it traced over her, taking in every dip and curve of her transformed body. There was no judgement, no hesitation—only a quiet appreciation, a gentle wonder. It made her feel cherished, desired, in a way that she had never experienced before.

She could feel the heat of your breath against her most intimate place, could sense the way you were taking in every detail. Part of her wanted to close her legs, to hide herself away from your gaze. But a bigger part of her, the part that had fought so hard to claim this body as her own, wanted to be seen. Wanted to revel in the fact that she was finally, truly a woman.

Your fingers brushed softly over her outer lips, tracing the delicate skin with a gentleness that made her shiver. She was still getting used to the sensitivity, the way every touch seemed amplified, electrified. Your fingertips dipped lower, parting her folds with a careful, teasing motion.

A soft gasp escaped her at the contact, back arching slightly off the bed. Her hands clenched in the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as a wave of sensation crashed over her. Your finger circled her clit, drawing a whimper from her throat. The sound was foreign to her own ears, a desperate, needy thing that she had never allowed herself to make before. But here, now, with you, she let it spill freely from her lips.

"Hyun-Ju," you murmured, your voice a low rumble that she could feel vibrating through her core. "You're beautiful."

Hyun-Ju's breath hitched, a flush spreading over her cheeks at the raw, intimate way you were looking at her most private place. She could feel the heat of your gaze, the weight of your admiration, and it made her feel seen in a way she never had before. Exposed, but in the best possible way.

Your finger traced lower, teasing along her slit with a feather-light touch. She was already wet, arousal glistening on her newly formed folds. A soft moan escaped her as you explored her, hips shifted restlessly against the sheets, body canting into your touch. She could feel the ache building inside her, the desperation for more.

But you were taking your time, savoring every moment. Your finger circled her entrance, applying the lightest pressure, before dipping inside just slightly. The stretch was new, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. She could feel her body yielding to you, opening up, inviting you in.

"Please," she gasped out, voice trembling with need. "Touch me more."

Your eyes flicked up to meet hers, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "Patience, Hyun-Ju," you murmured, voice low and teasing. "I want to take this slow. I want to make this good for you."

She whimpered, fingers twisting in the sheets as your finger pushed in a little deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight in her lower belly.

Hyun-Ju's heart raced as she heard your words, a thrill running through her at the promise in your tone. She could feel the urgency building inside her, the desperate need for more. The slow, teasing touches were driving her to the brink of madness, leaving her aching and wanting.

Without warning, you plunged two fingers deep inside her, filling her in one swift motion. A cry tore from her throat, back arching off the bed as pleasure exploded through her. She was so tight, so hot and slick around your invading digits. You could feel her walls clenching down, gripping you like a vice.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you groaned, pumping your fingers in and out of her. Your other hand reached up to palm her breast, kneading the soft flesh. "I can feel you squeezing around me."

Hyun-Ju could only moan in response, lost to the sensation of finally being filled, of being touched the way she had always dreamed of being touched. Your thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. Sparks of ecstasy shot through her with each press, each flick.

She could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter. Her hips rocked into your hand, meeting each thrust, silently begging for more. The obscene sound of wet flesh meeting wet flesh filled the room, punctuated by her increasingly desperate moans.

"Yes, fuck, don't stop," she gasped out, fingers tangling in your hair. "Feels so good..hah..haah..I'm so-so close!"

You could feel her walls beginning to flutter around your fingers, her body tensing. You doubled your efforts, fingers pumping harder, faster, as you rubbed her clit with quick, firm strokes. Your mouth found her nipple, suckling hard, grazing the sensitive bud with your teeth.

That was all it took to send Hyun-Ju hurtling over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, back bowing as she moaned out her pleasure into the room. Her sex clenched down around your fingers, gripping you like a silken vice as she rode out the intense waves of her climax.

You gentled your touch, letting her float down from her high as you slowly withdrew your fingers from her still spasming core. Hyun-Ju collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. her eyes fluttered open, a hazy gaze falling upon you as you shifted between her legs. She could see the prominent bulge straining against your clothing, the evidence of your own arousal. A part of her felt a flicker of nerves, unsure of how this would feel, how she would handle the addition of your penis inside her still new, sensitive body. But a bigger part of her felt a surge of desire, a deep yearning to feel you inside her in the most intimate way possible.

"Let me see it," she murmured, voice low and sultry. "I want to see you."

With a small smirk, you reached down and freed yourself from the confines of your clothing. It sprang out, long and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. Hyun-Ju's tongue darted out, wetting her suddenly dry lips as she took in the sight.

You wrapped a hand around your length, stroking it slowly as you positioned yourself at her entrance. She could feel the heat of you, the weight of you, poised to claim her once more.

"I'll go slow," you promised, voice rough with desire. "Let me know if it's too much."

Hyun-Ju nodded, a breathless "okay" slipping past her lips. She trusted you, more than she had ever trusted anyone. She knew you would take care of her, would make this good for her.

With a deep breath, you began to push forward, the head breaching her entrance. Hyun-Ju gasped, back arching slightly as she felt the stretch, the unfamiliar pressure. It was intense, almost too much, but not painful. Just new.

You paused, letting her adjust, as you slowly sank deeper inside her. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, until you were fully sheathed inside her tight heat. Hyun-Ju's eyes widened, a low moan falling from her lips as she felt so utterly full, so completely claimed.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," you groaned, hips still pressed flush against hers. "So tight and perfect."

She could only whimper in response, walls fluttering around your cock, trying to adjust to the intrusion. It was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one. She took a shuddering breath, trying to relax her body, to let you sink even deeper inside her. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulsing throb of your dick as it stretched her open.

"You feel so big inside me," she gasped out, voice trembling slightly. "you're reaching so..so deep.."

You smirked at that, giving a shallow thrust of your hips, burying yourself even further into her hot, slick depths. "Is it too big, Hyun-Ju? Too much?"

She shook her head quickly, fingers digging into your shoulders. "No, no, it's perfect. You're perfect."

Emboldened by her words, you began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained before plunging back in. You set a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too hard, letting her feel every inch of you as you claimed her body.

Hyun-Ju matched your rhythm, hips rolling up to meet yours. She was still getting used to the sensation, to the feeling of you deep inside her, but it was quickly becoming addictive. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing through her nerves, stoking the fire in her belly.

Your mouth found hers in a hungry kiss, tongue delving past her lips to taste her deeply. You consumed her moans, swallowed her cries of pleasure as you continued to move inside her. One hand slid down to circle her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with your thrusts.

The dual stimulation was almost too much, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel the coil of tension in her core winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure cresting like a wave poised to break.

"I'm getting close," she gasped against your lips, walls beginning to flutter around your pistoning length. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Hyun-Ju's body trembled as the pleasure mounted, each deep stroke of your cock pushing her closer to the brink.

"Doll, you feel amazing," you groaned, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more insistent. "So pretty.."

She could only moan in response, nails raking down your back and leaving angry red marks as she clung to you. Every muscle in her body was pulled taut, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The world narrowed down to the point where you were joined, the slide of your penis in and out of her dripping sex.

"Yes, fuck, don't stop!" she gasped out, words punctuated by desperate, needy cries. "I'm so close, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Her second orgasm hit her and it hit her hard, making her back arch sharply off the bed. Her pussy clamped down around your cock, gripping you rhythmically as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. In the midst of her climax, she felt you swell even harder inside her, your thrusts becoming erratic, urgent. With a groan, you buried yourself to the hilt inside her spasming body and let go.

Hyun-Ju could feel you pulsing, could feel the hot spurts of your cum painting her insides. The sensation prolongued her own orgasm, each pulse pushing her to new heights of bliss.

Finally, as the last aftershocks faded, you collapsed against her, both of you slick with sweat and panting for breath. Hyun-Ju wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she savored the afterglow.

"That was... incredible," you murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "You did so well, my love."

She smiled softly, a sense of pride and contentment warming her from the inside out. "Yeah? you too, thank you."

Hyun-Ju and you lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your mingled breaths slowly returning to normal, the occasional contented sigh escaping your lips.

As the minutes ticked by, you could feel yourself softening inside her, the initial tight fit loosening slightly. Hyun-Ju made no move to dislodge you, seeming content to stay connected, to feel you deep within her.

You lifted your head to look at her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the dreamy, sated look in her eyes. She was a vision of pure, unadulterated bliss, and the knowledge that you were the one who had brought her to such heights of pleasure filled you with a deep sense of satisfaction.

"Thank you," Hyun-Ju murmured, voice low and soft, almost reverent. "That was... thank you for making this so special for me."

You brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from her forehead, cupping her face in your palm. "No, sweet thing, thank YOU. You trusted me, opened yourself up to me, and let yourself feel everything. That took incredible courage and vulnerability."

She leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. As you both lay there, wrapped up in each other, the city outside continued its endless march of time. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. There was only the two of you, lost in the haze of intimacy and connection.

Finally, with a soft groan, you carefully pulled out of Hyun-Ju, your cock slipping from her body with a gush of combined fluids. She shivered slightly at the sudden emptiness, automatically clenching her thighs together.

You rolled to the side, pulling her with you so that she was curled up against your chest, her head pillowed on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her close, keeping her safe and warm.

"Rest now," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You've earned it."

Hyun-Ju nodded, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Together.." she whispered, snuggling closer, her eyes drifting shut slowly.

#squid game #cho hyunju #hyun ju #hyun ju x reader #male reader #x male reader #top male reader #dom reader #dom male reader #sub character #squid game s2 #squid game x y/n #squid game 2 #cho hyun ju x reader #cho hyun ju

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faghubby · 4 hours ago

Text

Going out again

"Ally. Why can't we just go to dinner together?" I whined

"Don't start, I am in a good mood. You wanted me to find a lover and now all you do is bitch like a little girl whenever I go to meet him" Ally shot back as she sat at her vanity finishing her make up. She stood up.

"I know what it is, you're bored home all alone. Well why don't we fix that" she told me grabbing my arm she led me down the hall.

"See this closet, it's a mess. Everyone just throws stuff in there they don't want to deal with" She then led me to the kitchen. "And the pantry, stuff gets thrown in here no organization" she told me. "Why don't you spend your free time taking care of that rather then pitching about me getting laid" she told me. I lowered my head in defeat.

"Don't cry about it" Ally said lifting my chin. "You can wear my pantyhose while you do it" she smiled. She knew I loved to wear her pantyhose they felt so smooth and sexy on my legs. Ally left to meet her lover. I knew nothing about him. She never shared details. When I had mentioned her cuckoldingMr, i thought it would boost are sex life add spice. Instead it killed it. She was getting what she needed from someone else. She wouldn't talk about it. But also stopped having sex with me at all. She had known about the pantyhose fetish since before we where married. No my sex life was me sitting home wondering what she was doing and with who as I masterbated.

Maybe this was a test if I did a good job cleaning everything up she would have sex with me. So I put on a pair of her pantyhose and nothing else and tackled the closet first. I spent hours on the closet and the pantry. I wasn't even done when Ally returned home.

"Look at you a busy little sissy" she smiled. "Did you have fun?" She giggled my dick hard in the pantyhose. She stepped close.

"It's been months hasn't it?" She asked as she ran her hand over my hardon. "You did really well so how about I let you ask some questions" she said.

"How big is he?" I asked without thinking.

"Wow your first question is about his big cock, jealous? Do you secretly want to suck his cock?" Ally teased. "It's bigger then you of course bit not overly enormous" she told me.

I thought for a moment "do I know him?" I asked

"No" she responded. She rubbed me again thru the pantyhose then ran her hand across my ass. I jumped as it felt like electricity running thru my body.

"Whould you like to wear pantyhose more? I would get you your own?" Ally asked I just moaned. "What about other things, girlie things. Have you tried panties?" She asked

"Yes, I love the feeling of satin" I confessed she stepped behind me her hands never leaving me.

"I bet you would look so cute all dressed up in satin" she told me her hands running up and pinching my nipples. "Rub yourself, don't take it out just rub" she told me kissing my ear. I rubbed my hardon it didn't take long for me to make a mess in my pantyhose. She headed for a shower leaving me to finish up.

In the morning I found a pair of nude pantyhose on top of my clothes.

"Wear them under your work clothes today" Ally told me. I put them on and put my underwear over them thinking it would hide them better if I bent over or something. I struggled to focus all day. The pantyhose driving me crazy.

At home Ally was cooking dinner,

"How was your day?" She smiled. "Why don't you strip down to just your silky pantyhose" without a thought I stripped. "How did you feel today?" She asked.

"Hot" I complained even though I loved it.

"Well you could shave that will reduce the temp and of course make them feel even more anazing" Ally told me. "And maybe I tell you how he likes to fuck me" she smiled. I went to take a bath. I shaved my legs, ass and groin. Before getting out of the tub. Ally met me at the door with a pair of full size pink satin panties.

"They are your size try them on" I slid them on and they felt amazing she then handed me a new pair of pantyhose they fit better then hers they weren't tight they felt amazing on my shaved legs.

"He loves to bend me over and fuck me standing up. He pounds away abusing my poor little pussy" She told me rubbing me thru the pantyhose and satin panties. I wanted to cum but she stopped.

"Why didn't you finish?" She asked running her hand thru the little cheat hair I had. I had not thought about it. She didn't wait for a response instead she bent me over.

"Like this he has me then he spreads my legs a bit" she moved my legs "and gets me wet" she said as she ran her fingers over my panty covered asshole. She then pulled my pantyhose and panties down exposing my ass. She applied something cool to my asshole and pushed her finger in.

"I want to make you a full fledge sissy" she told me. I didn't move I let her do whatever she wanted. She then pushed something hard against my hole.

"Push out and relax" she told me I tried and suddenly something slid into my ass. It hurt alittle as I gasped she pulled up my panties.

"I suck and swallow his cock. I never even put you in my mouth" Ally told me. "Do you like your new butt plug?" She asked. I spent the rest of the night even sleeping with the plug in my ass and the pantyhose.

"I am seeing him agsin after work, so you should focus on getting the laundry caught up and maybe thinking about getting rib of the rest of this hair. I went to work in pantyhose again. But she let me remove the plug it was small it felt so much bigger. When I got home I found a bigger plug on the table.

TRY THIS ONE SISSY GIRL the note read. I took it and worked into my ass as I get the tub set. And shaved my chest and pits. This is what I wanted I wanted the attention I wanted her to tease me. The plug hurt a little but if it made her happy.

Ally came home just before I was going to bed. She underdressed in front of me making a show of it. She peeled off her cum soaked panties.

"Look at all his cum" she laughed. "I got you this to wear" she smiled handing me a pink satin nightgown. As she went to shower. I put it on and wanted to jerk off. I was about to give in when Ally got out of the shower. She laid in bed naked. She lifted my nightgown and stroked me.

"Cum, don't hold back cum" she told me. I cane innunder a minute she caught all my cum in her hand.

"He cums so much more then you, she bought her hand up to show me. "Eat it, lick up your mess" she said sternly. I hesitated.

"I let him fuck my ass, could imagine me letting someone take my ass" she said I licked her hand clean. The salty taste was okay but the slimy texture almost made me gag.

In the morning she gave me a satin camisole with matching panties to wear. But no pantyhose. Agsin as soon as ingot home she had me strip and added an even bigger plug to my ass. Another nightie to wear to bed. The next morning she added a garter and stockings under my work clothes.

When I came home she greeted me at the door. She dragged me to the bedroom sat me down.

"Tell me you want this" she told me.

"Ally I love you" I started

"Tell me you want me to make you a sissy bitch, make you suck cock" She instructed me.

I froze staring at her I didn't want this to stop, but suck some guys cock?

"Yes make me your sissy bitch" I told her.

"That's truly what you always wanted isn't it" as she started to undress me smacking my hands down when I tried to help. "A little cuckold unable to satisfy his wife because he wanted to he the girl" she continued. She stripped me completely naked.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock" She told me lifting her dress. A pink plastic cock jutting out from her crotch. She pushed me down and lifted her cock to my lips. I looked up at her then opened my mouth. She was right I could never satisfy her I wanted to wear panties. I tried to suck her cock she gave me tips and hints to suck her cock better. My jaw hurt my knees hurt my throat hurt by the time she let me stop.

"You didn't make me cum, so" she pulled my hair so I stood and she spun me around and lubed my ass. She pushed her cock into my ass. She started slow but was soon bounding away.

"You love my cock don't you baby?" She asked

"Yes, fuck me" I pleaded. Before she stopped and pulled out.

"Get dressed" she told me pointing to a pile of clothes. There was satin panties and a bra. Stockings and a skirt and a shirt that said Sissy across it then in a box a pair of high heel shoes in my size. I slipped them on simple black 3 inch heels. I almost fell putting them on. I had not even noticed Ally get dressed as well.

"I will be back in the morning, I expect the house to be spotless. I don't care if it takes all night. You should be a pro in those heels by then" She kissed me on the cheek and left wearing sweat pants. I so wanted to cum but focused on cleaning. I didn't want to ruin this. I was up to 2am scubbing the house top to bottom.

I woke up to Ally coming home it was 9am.

"Still in bed" Ally pulled back the covers I still wore the bra and panties. She sat and rubbed my erection thru my satin panties.

"Beg to clean his cum from my cheating cunt" Ally laughed. I looked at her she was serious.

"Ally, I don't want" I whined

"Beg to devoure his sperm from me, make me believe you need it" Ally said.

"Please, Ally let me clean your pussy" I said. She looked at me.

"Ally I need to suck his manly seed from you, I need to clean you" I pleaded she stood and dropped her skirt lowering herself to my mouth. His cum dripped on my face before she even lowered herself all the way. She ground her pussy into my face as I locked and sucked her lips and clit. When she was satisfied I had done a good job she got off.

"Stay right there" she told me. When she returned she wore her strapon. She pulled off my panties and lubed my ass, before shoving her cock balls deep into my ass. My dick became soft but cum leaked from it. As she fucked me. My legs on her shoulders.

"Your just a little sissy now, my little bitch girlfriend" Ally told me. That's all I was now wasn't it. She didn't see me as a man. How could she? I started to cry as she fucked me hard with her toy.

"That's it my little bitch, all you can do is cry" Ally teased. She fucked me so long sweat dripped off her face. I was jelly. I just laid there.

"Here let's put this on now" Ally said as she fiddled with something around my balls. I sat up when she was done. I didn't have a dick!

"I knew it would fit. It's like you have no penis at all she laughed. "It's only 3/4 of an inch chastity cage." She told me. "And I already threw out the key"

"Your a woman now" Ally smiled. As I burst into tears again.

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lyracarvahall · 1 day ago

Text

HeartBeat Part 15

Serenade for Seonghwa

Part 14 Here

As Seonghwa stepped towards the microphone, he turned to look at Y/N. "So what is the goal today? How can I help?"

"I am just setting up the intro harmonies for one of the tracks and you can record your parts for the whole track if you are comfy and have time."

"That sounds great!" He gave her a sweet and gentle smile. With that he put the headphones and took a listen to her reference for his vocals. He closed his eyes and swayed to the beat, tapping the beat lightly on his waist with his fingertips.

Once he finished the first listen, he took one of the sides of the headphones off and looked at her beaming. "This is truly brilliant Y/N. I listened to some of your music and knew you were capable but this...this is perfect for both your sound and for us. Thank you for doing this for us."

Y/N blushed at the compliment. She had had fans but hearing someone so musically talented and experienced compliment her so highly filled her with a different level of pride. "Thank you Seonghwa. That means so much coming from you."

He looked genuinely touched and muttered a quiet thanks. "Is it alright if I try to record it now?" Y/N nodded and again was blown away by his talent. His voice had such a unique tone to it it was hard not to be captivated. She made sure to give him a few high notes throughout the song because she didn't think he got enough of those. He knocked it out of the park the first recording.

"Wow Hwa! You nailed it first try! That was beautiful!"

Now it was his turn to blush with a bashful smile. "Thank you."

Now was the moment she began to panic a little bit. Here was the special project she has worked on this morning. She was just hoping that he liked it.

"Hey Seonghwa? Is it okay if I get your feedback on another track that I have been working on? Since you finished so early?"

He nodded enthusiastically and she cued up the track. It was a confession, a plea. A ballad she had written about her struggles to connect with him. The sweeping instrumentals built to a peak and then everything but her voice cut away. The end of the song pleaded for him to talk with her and give her a chance to love him. Even if it was as a friend. To let her connect.

Seonghwa began to bawl as he sat on the recording booth stool. As soon as the song ended, he threw the door open and she thought he was going to storm out. Instead, he turned towards her and fell in front of her on his knees. He laid his head on her lap and continued to cry.

As he clung to her waist, she heard it. A gentle ocean wave. He gasped and clung to her tighter as she saw the tattoo crawling up his neck like curls making their way around the base of his hairline. She felt the matching burn.

"I am so sorry. I am so so sorry." He continued to sob into her lap. She began to cry to watching him fall apart this way. She felt his sorrow and regret.

"Hey...hey Hwa it's okay." She gently combed her fingers through his blonde hair. "I am here in whatever way you need me to be. Did you want to talk about it?"

Y/N looked up to see San watching the scene unfolding in front of him through the window. He held up his phone and then walked off. Shortly after he messaged that he would get them all food and be back.

Sniffling, Seonghwa sat up but still remained sitting between her legs. "I....never thought that...I was a part of this. I figured my feelings about it made it karmically impossible."

Y/N stayed silent and let him keep talking while rubbing slow circles on his back.

"At first I resented you. I resented that you took him from me. As a group we had discussed the possibility of soulmates before but all of the public events worldwide and no prospects coming up...we thought it was not in the cards for us. Some held onto the idea...including Hongjoong. I developed feelings for him years ago and no matter what I hinted at he had still held out hope to find you. Recently he had started responding to my flirtations and I thought there was finally something there for us. And then you came. Instantly I was forgotten and my hope was gone. I couldn't deny that I felt a connection to you too, but that only made me hate it more. As I saw each of my friends fall for you, and I learned more about you, I couldn't hate you. You are a beautiful person and I am sorry that I took this out on you."

He took a moment to finally look into her eyes. His were red from the tears that had been shed. "I would like to explore this connection with you. I would. I just need it to be slow. I am still...healing from heartbreak in a sense."

"I understand. Take all of the time you need. However, I wanna say something and don't get mad. Please."

Seonghwa hesitantly nodded.

"I think we should talk to Hongjoong together about this. I don't like the idea of breaking your heart just because you are bound to me. I am not opposed to you two exploring your feelings with each other if it is something you both want to pursue."

Seonghwa looked shocked. "Wait really?! Why would you do that?"

"Because I wouldn't truly love you if I kept you from happiness Hwa."

He lept up and wrapped his arms around her. She felt such joy through the bond it was contagious. She giggled and squeezed him back. Just then San gently knocked on the door. Wiping tears from her eyes, she nodded and waved San in. He was carrying bags of takeout which he placed on the table behind them.

"Thank you San. That was very nice of you. Come to think of it I haven't eaten since this morning."

Everyone made their way to the sofa behind the table and began to eat quietly. Seonghwa sat very close to Y/N like he needed her presence as reassurance. San smiled his closed eyed smile.

"Welcome to the club bro."

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist: @mrsminseochoi @vtyb23 @imbaebi @nuggiesnuggetdog04

#poly ateez #ateez x curvy reader #ateez x older reader #poly ateez x reader #soulmates

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lightlycareless · 2 days ago

Note

Do you think because of Y/N helping him like grow as a person, do you think this groan version of him would take an interest in Megumi after Toji dies? I don’t think he’d be necessarily try to take care of Megumi full time but I could see him being invested in his care. I feel like Naoya wouldn’t have let Megumi go into his teen years not knowing much about his father lol

I HIT SEND TOO QUICKLY Hi, I’m the Naoya and Megumi anon. I also wanted to mention how I think it’d be cute to see how Y/N would interact with Megumi as well. I feel like Megumi would grow closer to Y/N faster than he would go both Naoya and Satoru since I’m sure those two could be annoying to him lol

Hi anon hehehehehehe. Sorry for taking a while to respond 🥹 I couldn't really think much about a scenario between the two interacting, but after a while, I think I finally got it!

This was nice to write, it's like a nothing goes terribly wrong AU. One can certainly dream.

Warnings: nothing major, just naoya being a tiny douchebag before realizing his mistakes :) also, I had to change the timelines because when satoru met megumi you were like 15 and that's the age I envisioned you meeting naoya for the first time lol (me taking creative liberties, as usual); but outside of that, fluff.

Happy reading!!

I’m going to be honest with you, I do not think Naoya would care much about Megumi initially outside of his similarities to Toji, but even then, it doesn’t last that long because he rather have the real deal, if that makes sense. Megumi’s relationship to his favorite person in the whole wide world is actually to his detriment.

However, things don’t turn out for the worse until he finds out why he was welcomed into the Zen’in estate in the first place.

Because he’s essentially his replacement! If not the preferred option�� and this revelation has Naoya seething with anger. How dare his family do that to him, after all he’s done for them?!

And believe me when I say Naoya was more than ready to retaliate, find a way to sabotage the poor kid—

Until you stepped in and disapproved of his actions.

But not only that, your engagement too, and possibly even your relationship.

“Can’t you see how critical this is?! I am to lose my title, my place in this family because of this—kid!” Naoya tries to justify his actions, attempts to convince you of his erroneous beliefs and support him. “We’re going to lose everything! Is that the life you want?! To be thrown out into the streets?!”

But you’re not having it, because that’s not why you fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t care if we live in poverty, Naoya. However, I do care if I am to face those struggles with a man I’m suddenly surprised to learn he’s not the type of father I want for my future children.”

Your statement certainly shakes the foundations of his behavior for a bit, though he’s kind of back at it again soon after, believing you’d return to your usual self in no time. Like it always goes…

However, it’s not until your prolonged, absolutely painful silence towards him, enough to refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, that he finally snaps out of his delusions.

It’s now clear to him that your words referred to your reconsideration of this engagement, fearing that the way he behaved towards his innocent nephew might actually be a direct reflection of his fatherhood. One of the many things you are non-negotiable about.

He’d have to be naïve to think his relationship, his future children, couldn’t entail a possibility like this. Like his clan hadn’t accepted his engagement to you for the slightest possibility of begetting a son with their inherited technique.

Neither had thought much about it, perhaps too enthralled with the idea of spending the rest of their lives together—but this was a very plausible circumstance. Or at least it was until the obnoxious white-haired heir came along and dragged poor Megumi and his sister into a world he was previously unaware of.

…

And he just had to go ahead and disappoint you, didn’t he? Eagerly considering doing things he would never attempt against his own children… all because he was jealous.

No wonder you didn’t want to relate to him anymore. He was acting the same way his family did! How they taught him to be.

The same behavior that once threatened this relationship to never exist, unless he changed for the good.

Naoya thought he did, but with the prospect of his future marriage now hanging by a string, he’s not so sure anymore.

Still, hope remains. A sliver of opportunity for him to retract his denouncing actions and do what’s right before it’s too late.

For you.

For Megumi.

So, willing to put his (imaginary) differences aside, he approaches young Megumi with intentions of bridging the gap between the two and getting to actually know him; his first and perhaps only relative to care enough to do so, it seems.

Unfortunately, Megumi wasn’t too keen on following his lead. In fact, he didn’t want to entertain anything that might entail the heir, which honestly surprised Naoya since his preconceived notions influenced him to believe otherwise. This kid is essentially going to get his job, wouldn’t he like to know more about it??

Not really. For all he could care for was the wellbeing of his sister, another young child Naoya grew slightly indifferent to after hearing she wasn’t really related to his cousin, a stepchild. He had no quarrel with her, but he wasn’t the best “in-law” either.

Well, at least this made his job easier when it came to getting into Megumi’s good graces, all he had to do was order a better life for her and that was set. However, the kid’s coldness towards him remained, and at the prospect of his options quickly running out, Naoya grows desperate—anxious.

What if he never makes amends for his acts?

Would you… leave him?

“Stupid Satoru, this is all his fault! If he had only come to me first instead of dumping all his problems to us, this would’ve been way different!”

Who would’ve thought, however, that he and Megumi would end up bonding over their shared distaste for the Gojo heir?

“So, he’s always like that?” Megumi quietly asks upon hearing Naoya curse out his frustrations.

“Huh? Who?” Naoya asks, unsure if he’s talking to him.

“Satoru, has he always been this immature?”

Your fiancée blinks.

“Yeah, since he was a kid.” Naoya continues. “An obnoxious, irritating—”

“White-haired creep.” Megumi finishes, he grins.

“I knew I couldn’t be the only one that saw Gojo for what he really is!” Naoya proudly states, as if he hadn’t previously admired the man for as long as he could remember, the epitome of strength but only behind his cousin!

Though his disdain only came much later upon learning of a particular succession that happened between you and him; since then, he’s been persona non grata in his life.

“Makes sense why his friends look at him the way they do.” Megumi continues. “How can he even have friends in the first place??”

“No idea, might pay them for their time or something.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

It marked the beginning of a new friendship, one that Naoya genuinely enjoyed past making amends and getting back to your good graces, enough so for him to actually invite him to train; Megumi refused his initial invitation, citing he really didn’t have much interest about sorcery and such, but eventually agreed after realizing all of the things he could accomplish by becoming strong…

Such as protecting his sister.

Besides, Naoya ought to be a far better adequate training partner than those goons in the kukuru and akashi units, or old geezers like this father and uncle.

“It’d be my privilege to train you.” Naoya continues. “And perhaps, in due time, you’ll be able to beat Gojo yourself.”

Consider him sold.

Though some restraints must still be employed.

“You better not be encouraging to do anything bad, Naoya.” You say after bumping into him just around the corner, once their training session was over and both were dismissed to clean up.

“Y/N!” Naoya gasps, thrilled to see you again; he tried to play it cool but, well, he never could contain himself with the love of his life. “I—… I don’t know what to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I hear that you were actually getting along, so… I just came by to check in on the two.”

“We have. He’s quite entertaining, you know?”

“I know. He’s very sweet too.”

“Really?” Naoya raises an eyebrow.

“When no one’s watching, of course. Kind of reminds me of someone…”

…

“Are you still… disappointed with me?”

You sigh.

“No, not really.” You admit. “But I did get a bit… worried.”

About what he’d do if one of his children had inherited his family’s technique.

“I’d still love them, like I love you.” Naoya reassures, a sentiment you know to be true now. “I could only love all that comes from you.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” You smile, taking his hand with yours and pulling him closer.

“Does this mean…?”

“Yeah, we have lots of catching up to.” You tease. “But—I need you to promise me something before that.”

“Anything.”

“That you’d be careful about what you say about Satoru in front of Megumi; I wouldn’t want him to do something by accident in the days he’s here and… well, you know, make things awkward.”

Naoya laughs.

“I mean, we wouldn’t be lying…”

“Naoya.”

“Alright, I promise. No more trash talking.”

“Keep it to the minimum at least… I get how annoying he can be, but… well, we have to be the bigger person in this situation.” you pout, inviting Naoya to lean down and steal a kiss from your lips.

“I’ll deal with it, don’t worry your pretty little head about anything” He kisses you again. “Outside of our wedding, of course. Have you thought about the venue you want?”

You smile.

“Not yet, but I’ve seen some beautiful options we should definitely go look!”

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have much time to do so, because this promise would be broken not so long after by you (the irony of it all!). A slip of your tongue and their words would inundate Satoru’s mind with nothing less than skepticism.

But far from prompting an expected reaction, it triggered a far worse consequence: a competition with the sole purpose of demonstrating which one of the heirs was better. There were no limits, only points to prove.

…

You suppose there is no better training for patience when you finally have children of your own, than this.

Also, to not leave that major question unanswered: I feel like Megumi would be the one to eventually ask Naoya about his dad; Naoya for sure wanted to tell him all the amazing things Toji seemingly did, but you convinced him not to because...

"He sold him, Naoya. What do you think Megumi feels about that?"

Not sure if it's ooc, but I also believe Naoya's perspective of him might change a bit.... he'll still admire the crap out of him, but there's just things that he doesn't perceive so happily anymore.

Anyways, there's my interpretation of the relationship they could have hehehe it began with Naoya trying to mend things because of you but they ended up being somewhat amicable with one another :) to torment Satoru is their main motivation. (don't get me wrong, Megumi eventually finds Naoya annoying too, but, well, he can benefit out of the two one way or the other hahah)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥹❤️ I strive to write more about Megumi in the future.

Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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buckiverse · 4 months ago

Text

Surrender to You

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: You suggested a reluctant marriage of convenience due to your struggles in the N109 Zone. Now Sylus, will show you what it truly means to surrender both body and heart to him.

☆--- word count: 6.2k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, mating press, missionary, bit of background story (not really lore accurate), reader is a virgin, soft!dom sylus, size kink if you squint, sylus is in love fr, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: the amount of time it took me to edit this was a bit ridiculous

The N109 Zone has danger lurking throughout it. From the darkest alleys to the stores, they all had one thing in common: The prioritization of information. That is your current motivation. You need more information and quick. Since the death of your beloved family members, you could no longer be complacent. It’s been hard being left in the dark. You thought you could trust the hunter’s association to be honest with you, but that was a lie.

You asked around a lot… from your hunting partner, Xavier, to your colleague Tara and even your boss, Jenna. No one could answer you honestly. Most of them barely “knew” what the N109 Zone was besides the fact that it was perilous. But that much was obvious.

You took to your own devices, relying on your resourcefulness. You looked online and did intensive research. All you could find out was that a significant catastrophe had transpired... Wander's took over, something to do with the state of protocores, resulting in a significant division between city areas. As a result, the sub-city known as the N109 Zone was established. You could not explain why, but you were sure it was due to the deaths of your parents, as well as your grandmother and childhood friend.

Initially, the plan was to invade the area, get information, meet some people, and decipher everything while remaining incognito. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. You were kidnapped by the most prominent organization in the N109 Zone, Onyichinus. Run by… Sylus? “Yeah, who the hell was that?” you thought aloud. You had never heard of this dude; I mean Onyichinus... Yes. But, even the Hunter’s Association defined the organization as faceless. It was an arduous task to uncover the head of the unit.

So that is how you ended up here, making a bargain with the devil. The other factions in the area had been restless since discovering your Protocore Syndrome. It was considered a hot commodity. Everywhere you turned, there was danger. This made your job to find the truth more difficult. As a result, you only partially appreciated Sylus's presence.

“Look, all I want is some information,” you said. Your eyes narrowed as you took in Sylus’s figure.

“Ah, is that so? And what exactly do you want to know? Everything comes with a price.” he replied. His head tilted slightly, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

You thought carefully, considering your following response. “It’s not your business; just know that intelligence on Protocore Syndrome has spread, and it’s impossible to handle business. So I’d like to make a deal.”

“And what would that be?” Sylus reacted with amusement.

You replied swiftly, not missing a beat. “We should marry,” you responded confidently.

Sylus arched an eyebrow, his eyes flashing with something, almost a mix of interest and amusement– that smug bastard, you thought. You attempted to hide your scour; you needed this more than you needed to get one over on the gray-haired man.

“And how does this deal benefit me?”

“That’s for you to decide and for us to discuss,” you acknowledged. A great silence overcame the room of Sylus's office. You stared at him, holding your resolve, waiting for a reply.

“Deal”, he replied suddenly. You disguised your surprise, sticking out your right hand to shake his. “Good then.” You said, recovering swiftly.

“I will handle the guests; you handle the small planning details. Utilize Luke, Kieran, and my card.” Your thoughts were threatened by disbelief. The ease with which he was complying with this was astounding. You wondered, honestly, what Sylus gets out of the arrangement. You told yourself it's nothing to do with you. Finding the truth is what matters; this is only one more step to complete your goal.

☆---

The venue you chose was stunning. The ceiling mirrored the most beautiful mosaics. The depictions of gods and angels were magnificent. You had never seen something so gorgeous. You reflected on the story presented in the ceiling. What would your life be like under this 'arrangement'? This was serious. It was real and binding. You were having second thoughts, wondering if the information was worth it all. But you encouraged yourself, "Of course, it’s worth it, y/n! How can you live the rest of your life without knowing the truth?” you affirmed aloud, looking around the venue. Everything felt real now. It's only been a few weeks at the Onyichinus base, but it has been productive intel-wise.

Moving on through your tour, you looked straight ahead at the expansive hall where the ceremony would occur. It was covered in intricate detail. The mosaic patterns worked down the walls, creating various shapes of circles and rectangles in its stead. In front of the walls was a white display of roses. The flowers were delicately spread throughout the venue, covering the reflected pattern on the marble floors. You moved your feet, looking to where the audience would be. Your heart plummeted when you realized you would only know Sylus, Luke, and Kieran. "It is just business, y/n," you said to yourself, adjusting your expression.

You truly outdid yourself; aside from the grandeur of the ceiling and walls, the remainder of the venue echoed the luxurious color schemes of white and black, with gold touches throughout. It was beautiful, but it was purely professional. Despite the vibrancy around you, you could not help but feel the sterility of the place. You kept your guard up, even to yourself. This is a warzone, and you have allowed Sylus to invite danger.

As you walked to the reception area, you could not help but admire the luxurious atmosphere. The black marble floors mirrored the massive tree in the center of the room. Chandeliers dangled from the strong branches, illuminating the space. You wandered around the white gold seats and tables, admiring the centerpieces. A glass foundation supported large bouquets of white roses in the center of the table. Each table had the right tableware and a black tablecloth folded into black swans. Reminding you of the rationale for your decision, you must persevere to achieve actual change.

You looked up as you approached the grand double doors at the end of the hall and noticed Sylus watching you silently. "I trust you managed the guest list," you remarked, jerking out of your thoughts. “Of course, sweetie. Only the most important people. Though I did include a few surprises—what is a wedding without some fun?" he quipped. You rolled your eyes at that. Why is he always insisting on pet names? This is not meant to be authentic.

“This is supposed to be a business arrangement, Sylus. ‘Fun’ wasn't exactly part of the plan.” You sighed harder than you wanted to, and Sylus simply responded with a slight smirk and laughter.

“Whatever you say… sweetie.” He then turned and made his way out of the wedding venue, leaving you standing there in shock. “Well–are you coming? Assuming you’re hungry, should I let you continue standing there looking lost?” You felt your face flush.

“Fine,” you said, quickly moving through the grand double doors. You slipped outside, watching as Sylus opened the car door for you.

☆---

A few days later, you found yourself in the venue's dressing room, staring yourself down. “This is fucking crazy,” you exclaimed. The realization struck once more: this is happening.

You were wearing the most stunning gown. It was covered in thousands of tiny diamonds, sewn individually into the dress. The neckline reminded you of a wide v-neck as it rested between the valley of your breasts. Pushing them out just enough–you looked amazing. The dress was perfectly fitted to your curves, and you turned to admire your backside, noticing the cutout of the dress. The fabric rested just above the crack of your ass, but you could not help but admire your good looks.

‘One thing Sylus definitely can provide is unlimited money,’ you laughed out loud. Turning back to face yourself, you admired the mermaid bottom of the dress accentuating your curvy body. You felt like a whole new person.

Your swirling thoughts were cut short by the knocking on the door. “Yes?” you replied, swiftly turning towards the sound. Luke and Kieran opened the door and made their entrance. "Wow," they said in unison. "You look so beautiful, y/n!" Luke said. "The boss will undoubtedly love this dress on you," Kieran remarked. "And off," Luke added, getting pushed in the arm by Kieran. Your cheeks warmed at the statement; you had not considered consummating the marriage.

Because once again, this is business, you convinced yourself. Even though Sylus is beautiful, his eyes, nose, and plump lips… “Anyway, this note is from the boss. We’ll see you out there, y/n,” said Kieran. You took the note from him and watched as they both walked out.

A shudder ran down your spine as you held the note in your palm. You looked up to see Mephisto, who "cawed" at you as he flew through the open door.

“He’s probably running to tell Sylus I got his note,” you commented, side-eyeing the door. The note had a red wax seal on the front of the black envelope. You opened it, and a little pop revealed the white note. You pulled it out with shaking hands.

“I promised you forever, and I don't break my promises.”

You felt your face flushing by the second. This note was so sudden, so why did it feel like he was talking about something deeper than these words reflected? You ran your hands over the words on the page, interrupting your thoughts, and you heard your song start.

“You can do this, y/n,” you said, leaving the dressing room. Now is where the real work begins.

You stood at the end of the aisle and looked around. You recognized some of the biggest names in the N109 Zone. At least Sylus kept that promise, you thought. The piano rang the most angelic symphony, bringing emotion forth in you.

You began your walk, stride confident, keeping your head high. Sylus stared at you, his smile widening as you worked your way before the steps. He reached down, grabbed your hand, helping you up the steps to the altar. The officiant began to address the crowd, but it felt like it was just you and Sylus. Why was he looking at you like that? You pondered.

“I’ve waited for this moment longer than you know,” Sylus whispered for only your ears to hear. You cocked your head slightly, you were going to ask what he meant by that, but the officiant addressed Sylus, stating the vows, “Do you take y/n to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.” Sylus’s red eyes flickered as he looked down at you. “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do you apart?”

"I do," Sylus responded, his big hands attempting to secure the large rock to your finger. Your eyes watered slightly at the sight. Why is this so intense, you wondered, as the officiant recited the vows to you. Of course, you responded with an "I do."

“You may kiss the bride.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Sylus didn't hesitate. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. His touch was gentle but possessive, almost telling you that now you’re his.

He kissed you firmly but slowly and deliberately. Sylus doesn't rush his kiss with you, almost like he is savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours sent warmth coursing through you, pulling you deeper just for a moment.

For a second, you hesitated, thinking you should pull away and make distance. But then Sylus slid his hand around your neck, pulling you closer and deepening your kiss. And you went with it, kissing him back, slowly at first and then increasing the intensity.

The world around you faded. It felt like it was just the two of you. Allowing the kiss to linger on longer than it should have. When Sylus pulled away, his lips parted slightly, and you felt his warm breath against your skin. He whispered just for you to hear:

“If you wanted more, sweetie, all you had to do was ask.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you swallowed hard at his statement. You hated that he could make you feel like this. You forced yourself to look away. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered quickly, knowing your heart raced at the kiss you shared.

Sylus smirked while looking into your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

☆---

The reception truly went off without a hitch. Some people you’ve never met made elegant speeches, wishing for happiness and prosperity. This was so fake you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the theatrics displayed before you. You glanced at Sylus, admiring his features as the current speaker discussed alliances and protections.

When Sylus leaned into your ear, “Is my face more interesting than the speech, sweetie?”

You rolled your eyes at him and returned your attention to the speaker. “He’s so cheeky,” you thought. Despite your harsh admissions, you secretly enjoyed his playfulness. It made this whole ordeal feel lighter.

After serving food and drinks, Sylus walked you around the room. The reception hall buzzed with conversation. The guests mingled about discussing business deals disguised as casual conversation. Sylus worked the room effortlessly. His hand rested on the small of your back, sending tingles up your spine as he made contact with your bare skin.

“Ah, there you are,” Sylus said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. “I want you to meet Mr. Blackthorne. He’s one of the key players in the project we’ve been discussing.”

Mr. Blackthorne turned to face you, offering a firm handshake. His gaze lingered over you, measuring you up. You returned the handshake, nodding politely. “It’s a pleasure,” you said.

Truthfully, your mind was already wandering. The prospects of the evening had been exhausting. The smiling and pretending were weighing on you, and Sylus’s insistence on blurring the lines between you wasn't helping. Focusing was so hard your mind constantly drifted back to the kiss you shared just hours before.

Mr. Blackthorne spoke about contacts, future meetings, and something else—but you couldn't tell what. Your eyes continued to drift around the room, searching for a distraction. You tried your hardest to avoid looking at the white-haired man beside you.

After a few moments, Mr. Blackthore excused himself. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening. We'll be in contact soon, " he said, nodding and walking away.

A smile became present on Sylus’s face. “Sweetie, I think you missed that entire conversation,” He teased, his voice amused. “I could see it on your face—completely checked out. What were you thinking about, hmm?”

Your face heated instantly, and you shot him a sharp look. “I was listening.”

“Really?” Sylus raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “It looked to me like your mind was somewhere else entirely. Let me guess… still thinking about that kiss at the altar?”

Your eyes widened at his assertion. “It was just a kiss, Sylus,” you said curtly.

He chucked at your discomfort, “Sure if you say so. But next time, you might want to pay more attention when I introduce you to someone important. We wouldn’t want them thinking you’re too distracted by your new husband to focus on business, now would we?”

Your pulse quickened the way he said, “Husband.” “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” you shot back. You felt like a firecracker inside.

Sylus grinned at you. “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to be keeping your attention quite a bit from now on, " he said, grabbing your hand as another guest approached the two of you. The conversation was a perfect invitation to shift your mind from his teasing.

The wedding ended quickly after that. When you looked up, you felt that the wedding had ended, and you were in the backseat of an old luxury car, staring directly at Sylus. The mood was slightly lighter than at the wedding, yet it felt heated. And he could not take his gaze away from you; he was blatantly checking you out, making the ride seem shorter.

“You planned the perfect wedding, but tonight is where the real deal begins, sweetie,” Sylus suggested. The driver maneuvered the luxury car to the massive private gateway of the Onyichinus base. The base itself was vast and Gothic. You had never really stopped to appreciate the building's grandeur before. You reminded yourself that this was only temporary.

Entering the gate revealed a primarily gray and black building spanning at least a few hundred acres. The arches rested so high in the sky that they broke through the beautiful tranquility of sunset. Large windows, elegant arches, detailed carvings, and the crow resting at the highest peak of the building. How had you not realized the beauty of this place amidst the chaos of the N109 Zone?

Distracting you from your realizations, Sylus reached for your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts and the car. This felt different now. Sylus led you into the great corridors, walking for what seemed like miles. You walked through the two doors into Sylus's bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, and soft candlelight cast shadows across it. The wedding had been a blur, but now the evening had ended. It was just the two of you.

His room smelled so fucking good. A simple vanilla musk? But it was so amazing that you wanted to bury your face in his sheets. You heard the doors click behind you, bringing you to the present. Sylus leaned his upper back against the oak doors, his giant chest moving up and down, the only sound in the room being your breathing.

“You’re safe with me, no matter what,” he said, moving off the door and towards you, standing by his bed. Your heart pounded in your chest; it felt so loud that it drowned out the silence. You knew this moment might come, but now you stood before Sylus.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice lower now, less playful than it had been all evening.

You swallowed, and your throat felt tight. You didn’t know what to say. The air had a thick, unspoken tension. This was supposed to be part of the deal—another step in this arrangement. But now you feel vulnerable in front of him.

Sylus stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to feel every bit of space he closed between you two. His hand came up, gently brushing your hair out of your face. The touch was tender, and it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to be,” he murmured, his thumb lightly grazing your jawline, tipping your chin upwards so your eyes met his. “I’m not in a rush.”

Your chest tightened. You knew Sylus for his confidence, his teasing—proficiency at getting under your skin—but now, there was something different in his eyes. A softness you didn't know he possessed.

“I—I don’t know what to expect,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. You felt so exposed; your inexperience was so evident. It was increasingly hard to maintain your usual composure.

His smile was slow, warm, knowing. “You think too much, sweetie.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours—not demanding, not forceful, just soft and testing. The kiss was meant to calm you and reassure you, yet you found yourself responding. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, slightly deepening the kiss.

When he pulled back, Sylus’s red eyes searched for yours. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, his voice quieter, more serious now.

You bit your lip, your heart still racing. You were nervous, but some of you also wanted to trust him. How he looked at you, and his touch sent sparks through your skin… you wanted him.

“I don’t want to stop,” you admitted, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed you again, but this time with more intensity, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. Each brush of his mouth sent a warm shiver through you, and instinctively, you rose onto the tips of your toes, your hands pressing against his chest as if to steady yourself. His heart beat strong and steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as your pulse raced.

The kiss deepened, his tongue softly parting your lips in a request for more. You hesitated only momentarily, then parted them, inviting him in. His tongue brushed against yours, teasing and coaxing, his every movement confident and controlled. It was overwhelming and perfect, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left you breathless.

Sylus pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your swollen lips. He was grinning now, his eyes dark with desire and amusement. “Why don’t you let me help you with this?” His voice was a low murmur, and before you could respond, his hands slid to your waist, his fingers curling possessively around your hips.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he turned you, his body pressing against yours from behind. Your back pressed to his chest, and your breath hitched as you realized what he was doing. He had positioned you in front of a mirror. Your wide eyes met your reflection, and you could see Sylus’s smirk in the glass, his gaze fixed on you with a heat that made your skin tingle.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands moved to the fabric of your dress. “So beautiful when you’re nervous.” His fingers began to undo the delicate fastening at the back, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second.

The sight of him undressing you in the mirror, the way he watched your every reaction, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t entirely suppress. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he controlled the moment, making it impossible for you to look away from the reflection of your shared desire.

Sylus leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder as your dress began to loosen under his touch. “Let me show you how good this can be,” he murmured, his voice a silken promise that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

And as his hands continued their slow, teasing exploration, you realized you were already too far gone to resist. His movements caused the straps of your dress to loosen, but you held the fabric against your chest, not letting it fall.

He pressed soft kisses against your earlobe. “Let it fall,” he commanded tenderly. Your breath hitched at his command, but you complied, allowing the dress to fall forward, revealing your nipples.

“Beautiful,” he said. Reaching his large hands to cup your breasts. Sylus pulled your body back till you were flush against his broad chest. He was moving his hands to play with your nipples. He rubbed them softly, allowing them to harden between his fingers and tugging them forward firmly. He watched your reaction in the mirror as your face contorted slightly to tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

He grinned, removing his hands from your nipples to the back of your neck. He dragged his middle finger down to just above your ass, where the fabric of the dress ended. You tilted your head slightly at the movement of his hands. You missed the warmth of his hands on your nipples, but you didn't dare ask for them back as you wanted to see what he was doing next.

Suddenly, you heard the hidden zipper opening the rest of your dress. You stepped forward out of the dress just in panties, turning around to fully face Sylus. “You’re so beautiful,” Sylus murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he gazed down into your eyes. He pulled you in for a soft, lingering kiss—just enough to make your heart race. You flushed under his gaze, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks but not daring to look away.

“Let me help you, Sylus,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t be the only one left like this.” You reached up, gripping his tie and giving it a playful tug, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

His smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Take it off then,” he challenged, his voice low and teasing, daring you with his trademark confidence.

Your hands moved to unwork his tie, pulling him closer to you, causing him to chuckle slightly and grab your bare waist. You shuddered slightly under his touch, continuing your steady exploration. You discarded his tie to the floor and began unbuttoning his perfectly fitting shirt. It was a red button-up. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing Sylus’s beautifully sculpted body. You innocently peered up at his intense stare. He watched your every movement so close that the only sound in the room was your shared breaths. You drew your finger from his collarbone down to his navel, where you watched him flex slightly at your touch.

You slid his shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor before lowering yourself to your knees in front of him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, a smirk curving his lips as he looked down at you.

“And what exactly do you plan on doing down there?” His voice was rich with amusement and teasing but edged with something darker and more intense.

You glanced up at him, a slight pout forming on your flushed face. “Helping you undress,” you replied softly but with playful defiance.

Your hands moved to the front of his pants, your fingers steady as you unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops was the only thing breaking the tension in the room.

You looked up at Sylus, licking your lips. You pressed your hand against the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes widened a bit, realizing his size. It’s so big.

Sylus’s hand reached down, his fingers threading through your hair gently but firmly. He tugged you up to your feet with one swift motion, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his. His eyes, dark and heated, locked with yours as his other hand slid around your waist, securing you against him.

“That’s enough of you on your knees, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Without another word, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, leaving no doubt who was in control of the moment. His touch was possessive, but there was a gentleness in how his fingers trailed over your skin, as if he was savoring every inch of the contact.

He laid you back gently on the bed. You looked up at him, patient and waiting, propping yourself up on your forearms.

The noise in your mind was silenced as all you could focus on was Sylus. He dragged his large hands languidly down your body, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. It was a lacy white piece that beautifully complimented your skin. He hooked his fingers underneath it, tugging the fabric down the length of your legs before discarding them behind him.

You held your legs together, not daring to let them fall apart. Sylus’s hands worked between your knees “Kitten, relax for me”, he said softly, looking longingly into your eyes. You allowed yourself to relax a bit as he pulled your legs apart. “That’s my girl,” he drawled.

“Fuck, you’re drenched” He knelt before you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers traced slow circles teasing you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Do you want me to taste you, sweetie?” The question tested your resolve, and he waited for your response.

“Y-yes,” you whispered. Your hands moved up to cover your face.

Sylus’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes gleaming at your permission. He leaned in, his fingers parting your folds before pressing a single, languid, wet kiss against your core. The sensation of his kiss caused you to arch your back, “Oh god, Sylus.”

“mhm, you taste so sweet,” he murmured. His voice was thick with desire as he continued to tease you. The sound of his voice, the noises from his mouth as he made out with your cunt, made you wetter.

You felt his rough hands hold under your knees, pushing your legs further apart, splaying you open for him.

“Tell me how it feels, Kitten. Tell me how much you want me to make you cum for me.” Your back arched off the bed, your hands moving to grip his hair. You felt heat moving through you.

Sylus took his time, drawing out your pleasure. He was focused on bringing you to the edge. He spent time learning you, tasting you.

“Please… p-please, Sylus, I want to come.” This was the first time you've ever been touched like this, and you loved it. You had never felt anything like this before. Touching yourself could never compare to what Sylus was doing to you.

Sylus’s tongue flicked faster, and his fingers moved, pressing that sensitive spot inside you. His eyes opened and locked onto yours, his gaze fierce. He was testing your reaction and pressing the little spot inside you firmer.

You squirmed against his face, and your moans escaped you. You gripped his hair harder, pulling his mouth closer to you.

“Say it again, sweetie. Beg me to let you cum.”

Fuck, his mouth is filthy.

His tongue swirled around your clit, drawing your orgasm nearer.

He wanted to hear it, wanted you to surrender completely to him, to trust him. His lips closed around your clit, sucking down on your nub hard, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers joined in, working your insides as he stroked your slick cunt with his mouth.

“Say it, kitten. Say you want to cum for me.”

“I want to come for you, please!” you shouted. Tears threatening to fall off your eyelashes.

Sylus’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with triumph as he felt your body tremble beneath his touch. Your orgasm crashed over you, and pleasure flooded your senses. Your legs spasmed as you came on his tongue.

He held you down while you came, allowing you to ride out your pleasure. His tongue lingered until the very last moment, leaving you quivering and desperate for more.

You lay against the bed, your body slowly coming down from the high. You couldn't find the words for a moment, your mind still swimming from what he’d just done.

Finally, you managed a shaky breath, your voice soft but laced with disbelief. “I… didn’t know it could feel like that.” Your cheeks flushed at the admission.

Sylus hovered above you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes lit up with satisfaction as he looked down at you, watching you try to catch your breath, your flushed cheeks, and parted lips.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand slid up your thigh, sending another shiver through you. “I’m just getting started. Trust me, it can feel even better.” His tone was both a promise and a challenge, daring you to let him take you further.

A shaky breath left your lips, and a wave of heat ran through you from his words. A small smile fell on your lips. “I guess I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your tone was still nervous, but your body’s response to him showed how you felt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. “Be careful with me… just for now,” you said, smiling slightly, allowing yourself to be a bit vulnerable with him.

His hand slid to your waist, fingers curling around your hip as he pulled you toward him again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice a smooth, velvety purr, “you don’t just ‘have to’ trust me… you’re going to want to.”

His fingers traced slow circles on your skin, sending shivers through you. “Trust me,” he whispered, “I’m very good at making you want more.”

At that, you turned him towards the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled him, and you felt his clothed bulge pressing against your naked pussy, leaving a wet spot on him. You laid your hands on his chest, rubbing your hands down his hard body. Your heart was pounding through your chest. You moved your hands to push down his briefs, feeling his cock in your hands.

Sylus flexed his abs at your touch. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching in his throat. You wrapped your fingers around him; he felt heavy in your palm.

Sylus watched you through half-lidded eyes. Waiting for your next move until he switched your positions. You were now underneath him, his cock hard and ready, resting against your thigh.

He sat up and positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes trained on where you’d be connected. The head of his cock rubbed against your arousal, catching on your sensitive clit. Your breath caught as he moved to press his erection inside.

Fuck. You felt your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. You saw the flush forming on his cheeks through your teary eyes.

He bottomed out in you, finally looking into your eyes. “Breathe for me, kitten.” And you did. His hands came down by your head, caging you in. His hips moved backward, pushing back into you slowly.

His mouth parted slightly as he looked down at you, “You feel so good.” he grits out.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. You stayed there, not daring to look away. Your breath hitched, and your heart pounded out of your chest. You could feel him throbbing inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

Sylus moves by repositioning your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to move deeper within you. Your tits bounced up and down at the power of his thrusts. He moved his hands to pinch your nipples. The pinch of his fingers shot heat to your core, making you squeeze around him again.

“Fuck” he purred out, his eyes closed at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved his hands in between your legs, settling on your clit. He rubbed it steadily, flicking it between his thumb.

Your mind was empty from Sylus fucking you. He was hitting that sensitive spot inside your pussy over and over. You felt your body tensing up again, the wave of pleasure starting to work through your body.

“Come for me one more time, kitten. Let me hear you.” Sylus whispered into your ear, pressing your legs back by your head. You felt him kiss the shell of your ear. You could feel your sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest, his thumb playing with your clit.

“Come for me, Wife.”

You gasped, body trembling as the tension in your core built until it snapped. “Sylus…!” you cried out, your voice breaking as your body twitched uncontrollably in his arms. He held you firm, grounding you as his thrusts remained slow and deliberate, each one pushing you further into bliss.

“Look at me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. You forced your eyes open, locking onto his. His beautiful, red gaze never wavered, even now. The look in his eyes was more than lust—it was a connection, raw intimacy that seemed to transcend the physical. It made your heart skip a beat, just as much as the sensation of him inside you.

His pace faltered then, his movements growing erratic as he drove into you deeper, harder. “Fuck,” he growled, his lips parting in a low, primal sound that sent shivers through you. His body tensed, muscles tight as he pushed as far into you as he could, his release crashing through him.

With a final groan, Sylus collapsed forward, his weight settling over you as you both came down from your highs. His breath was warm against your skin, his heartbeat slowing in time with yours.

He lifted his head, eyes softening as they met yours again, a tenderness replacing the intensity from moments before. “Thank you for trusting me, y/n,” he whispered, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek.

“You’ve given me every reason to,” you said, smiling at him gently.

☆---

yall this idea was stuck in my head for a solid two weeks. i blame twitter l&ds stans for this. I SWORE i did not fuck with sylus like that up until a couple weeks ago...

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dollracha · 27 days ago

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𐙚 i want it ⋆ h.js x fem! reader

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced virgin! reader genre: smut warnings: swearing ⋆ slight corruption kink ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ sorta dubcon ⋆ reader is called “baby” (several times) & “my girl” (once) ⋆ spit kink ⋆ non penetrative sex ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 707 synopsis: you both promised to take it slow, but jisung struggles to keep his word, and you certainly don't mind. author's note: been thinking about this for days this is so incredibly self indulgent its not funny. this is not beta read. this is barely proofread. i'm just a whore. the first 870 or so of yall saw a slightly different version than everyone else onward. i made some slight changes that needed to be reworked for clarity. and for those of you interested, part 2 is linked above!

“fuck, ‘m sorry, baby.” jisung whines into your neck as he ruts his cock against your wet panties. he’s got one hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. you’ve both soaked your panties, his precum and the wetness from your pussy make it almost uncomfortably sticky.

“god, ‘m so fuckin’... gross.” he rambles, pulling himself up to spit on his cock. he watches it slide off the side of his tip and down your ass. “making a mess of your poor pussy just to get myself off.”

“hannie…” your moan has him rolling his eyes back. you can’t remember how you ended up beneath him, just that you didn’t want it to stop yet. It wasn’t enough. and yet you were trying to find it in you to tell him to slow down, it’s what you wanted after all. to take it slow, wait until ‘the right time’ for your first time with jisung. that went out the window the moment he started feeling you up today.

“i know… said i'd keep my pretty girl all pure for a little longer.”

but jisung’s cock throbs at the sight of you all defiled. your hair is a mess from when he shoved you down on the bed and had his hands all up in it when he kissed you earlier. your makeup is smudged, mascara messy from the way tears well up in your eyes and spill when his cockhead rubs against your clit just right. your lipstick blurs around your lips from the sloppy kisses you shared. he begged you not to wear a bra this morning when you got dressed, it made your tits even easier for him to access. all he had to do was pull down your little tank top and they were all his. your skirt is pushed up, soft tummy peeking out. and your pussy, so wet for him already and he’s still one layer away.

“look at you… so nasty f’me.”

“can i take off your panties? please, baby?” jisung stops rutting against your clothed pussy and gives a couple hard taps against your clit. “know it’s dirty, baby. but it’ll feel good, okay?”

all you want at this point is to feel good–screw everything else–so you nod and lift your hips so he can slide your panties off your legs.

You try to shut your legs but jisung is quicker. both of his hands keep your thighs open. “let me see that pretty pussy, don’t hide it from me.” he’s quick to spit on it again, and this time you can’t help the high pitched moan that escapes your lips.

“did your exes ever spit on it, baby?”

you shake your head, hands coming to cover your flushed face. nobody’s ever touched you like jisung has. you've kissed your exes, dry humped, even came from it too. but jisung's the only one who's touched you so intimately, and a part of him hopes it stays that way.

“like it?” he asks and you don’t respond. is it wrong to say you liked it? it’s gross, you think. it’s so so gross… but is it wrong?

warm saliva hits your pussy again, this time you can feel jisung’s breath on you.

“do you like it when i spit on your pussy, baby?”

“... yes…” you respond, and finally pry your arms away from your face. jisung’s laying down on the bed, hands pressed against your thighs to keep them open. he can’t decide what's a sweeter sight, your glistening pussy or your wide eyes. for now, his eyes lock with yours.

“fuck…” jisung whispers. his eyes fall back to your pussy with a smile. he licks his lips and lets his head fall against the blankets.

“ji?” you reach for his hand, and as soon as he feels your hand on his he’s grasping it, and raising his head up to kiss your knuckles.

“i know you wanna take it slow… but please, please can i eat you out, baby? ‘s all i want.”

jisung agreed to take it slow, but he's got you half dressed and soaking your bed. maybe you should be mad, but god, the pleasure jisung was giving you was addicting. you weren’t afraid to give yourself away to him at this point.

“i want it.” you nod, and jisung kisses your hand again.

“gotta give my girl what she wants then, yeah?”

#dollracha #han smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader smut #han x reader #han jisung x reader

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producedbysohyun · 1 month ago

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A Not So Secret Secret pt.2

Kang Dae-ho x pregnant! Reader

Summary: Still trapped in the games, you depend on Dae-ho for comfort and protection as you face the games, sickness, and constant fear.

Warnings: Reader is replacing number 222 but has no correlation with 333, Reader is pregnant, mentions of killing and stuff like that, might be slightly inaccurate, Not proofread.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: This took along time please enjoy!!

Pt.1 masterlist

You wake up. Now your third day of being in the squid games.

As the speaker goes off telling everyone that its morning time you sit up, groaning softly as your neck is aching from using Dae-ho's arm as a pillow the whole night. Your group around you wakes up as well, everyone looking dazed as they still find it hard to process the situation they are in.

Everyone in the game lines up and gets their breakfast, a piece of bread and some milk.

"what kind of breakfast is this" you think to yourself, your hunger really getting to you.

Despite the disappointment of bread for breakfast, you go and sit where your group would usually sit, waiting for everyone in the group to join as well.

You sit there, mindlessly eating your bread until Dae-ho comes and sits next to you.

"Hi baby how are you feeling?' he asks, giving you a small smile.

You just pout. "hungry.."

He frowns before giving you his bread.

"Nooo its fine..." You try to protest, knowing its not gonna get you anywhere.

He smiles "We've been through this already, I'm fine" He reassures you.

You frown and take the bread. You feel so useless, just eating peoples food even though it was offered to you.

"ahh.. actually it's fine really.. you need to eat..." you say as you hand the food back to him, your thoughts getting the best of you.

He looks at you softly before trying to negotiate. "How about we split it? You know what you have right now is not enough for you at all.."

You give in, to hungry to say no, "ok.." You smile as he gives you half his bread, though your piece is much bigger than his.

By now the rest of the group has joined you guys and all of you are just talking about whatever comes to mind, The next game, escaping, the fight that might take place tonight, and stuff like that.

Suddenly, the room starts spinning, and a wave of nausea hits you. You feel your head spin, and before you can react, you quickly push yourself up and speed-walk to the bathroom, trying to keep your balance. Dae-ho calls your name, but you don’t respond, too focused on getting to the bathroom. Once inside, you rush into a stall and throw up everything you just ate. Afterward, you sit on the cold bathroom floor, your back against the stall, too weak to move. The nausea lingers, and you just close your eyes, wishing for it to pass.

"it must just be morning sickness.." you thought to yourself.

Even though you've only experienced it a few times, the games seem to be making it lot worse, most likely due to the amount of stress you're under.

You must've been in there for awhile as the voice on the speaker sounds once again. "please follow the guards to your next game."

You quickly get up, flushing the toilet and running out of the bathroom back over to your group.

Dae-ho looks panicked before he spots you. "Are you ok???" he asks worriedly.

You nod, panting from running so fast. "I just felt a little sick that's all."

The group exchanges worried glances, their faces filled with concern, though there isn't much they can do.

You step into the colorful room with stairs and begin to climb, but each step feels heavier. You struggle a bit, the stairs feeling like a mountain to your exhausted and sick body, and they only get harder as you go. Halfway up, you lose your footing and stumble, nearly falling backward.

Luckily for you Dae-ho was right behind you and quickly put his hands on your waist, steadying you.

"are you ok??" he asks, worry in this voice. "Do you need me to carry you?"

"N-no I got it.. I'm alright.." You regain your balance and continue walking up the stairs.

Dae-ho stays close behind you on high alert just incase you stumble again.

As you guys get to the next game you take in your surroundings. The room has a red circle platform with horses in the middle. A multitude of colorful doors are placed on the walls of the room and the ceiling is almost like one of a carnival tent with white and red stripes on it.

"this game is called mingle." The speaker says.

"Ohh.. we used to play something like this when I was younger, but you would have to get in groups by hugging" Jung-bae says to the group.

You feel a bit more relieved as he says that. At least someone knows what they are doing.

The speaker goes off a again. "all players will stand on the platform and as it spins. When the music stops a random number will be called out. You will have to form groups of that number and go into one of the rooms before the timer is up or you will be eliminated."

After the announcement your group immediately starts talking about what to do.

Dae-ho turns to you. "No matter what just stay with me.. ok?"

You nod, not even wanting to think about the two of you getting separated in a place like this.

Your group manages to get somewhat of a plan before the game starts, the platform starting to spin as some children's song plays.

You tightly grip onto Dae-ho's hand, wanting to insure you guys won't be separated and as you do so the platform abruptly stops.

"ten" the speaker says as a 30 second timer shows up.

Your group of five desperately searches for another group of five but only finds one of four. Suddenly, number 120, a member of the group of four runs off and grabs a random girl.

"we have ten now! Go to room 44! The green door!" she calls out.

All ten of you quickly run into the room, the doors locking soon behind you. Your hand never leaving Dae-ho's.

The ten of you all breathe heavily as the sound of gun shots and people begging for their lives are heard outside of the room.

You lean back against the wall, exhausted and scared. Your hands are shaking like crazy and it catches Dae-ho's attention. His thumb gently caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you the best he can in the moment. Then, the random lady starts yelling.

“You’re alive because of me!” She exclaims before turning to Gi-hun, giving him a creepy look. “It seems there’s a reason you’ve survived longer than you were supposed to.” She says as she smirks.

The lady then turns to you and just stares at you creepily for a bit, Dae-ho keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t try anything.

Then, to your luck, doors unlock and all of you walk out. You cringe as you step in a pile of blood on the floor, but at this point you're pretty used to it.

Everyone gets back on the platform and then, it starts to spin, the song ringing loudly in your ears. Your heart feels like it's gonna beat out of your chest but you try to focus on the game as best as you can.

The platform stops once again. "four" the speaker says.

You all look at each other. There are five of you. You need four.

Gi-hun speaks up, not afraid to sacrifice himself. "you four go-"

"No, go ahead guys." Young-il cuts him off, already walking away, not giving any room for protest.

Gi-hun just stands there before getting dragged away by Jung-bae.

"we have no choice come on!" Jung-bae exclaims to all of you.

You all quickly run into a greyish purplish room. But Gi-hun hesitate to close the door as he's looking for Young-il.

The timer starts to get it it's last seconds before Gi-hun finally closes the door.

More gunshots are heard outside but you don't care at this point, You're just grateful you're alive.

The door soon unlock and everyone repeats the same process.

The platform starts to spin and you stumble a bit. Dae-ho quickly stables you, still holding onto your hand.

you squeeze his hand tighter as the platform stops.

"three" The speaker says.

"you three go- me and Young-il will find one more person!" Gi-hun says urgently.

You, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae waste no time running into one of the empty rooms.

Suddenly a random guy runs into your guys' room and you being the only girl and the weakest, he grabs you and try's to drag you out.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae both react at the same time. Dae-ho gently pushes you behind him as Him and Jung-bae shove the guy out of the room.

You breathe heavily, trying to figure out what just happened before Dae-ho turns around and bends down to your level.

"are you ok?" He asks, eyeing you everywhere for any sort of injury.

You just nod breathlessly and lean against him, putting your head against his chest as the door locks. He gently puts his arms around you, kissing your head softly.

"thank you guys" you say to the two boys with as much gratefulness as possible.

"of course" Jung-bae nods as he breathes heavily.

The doors soon unlock and Dae-ho lets go of you, taking your hand again as the three of you walk out of the room and reunite with the rest of your group.

You all look at each other relieved everyone survived before getting on the platform for what felt like the tenth time.

The song began once again as the platform spun slowly.

"Six" the speaker called out as the spinning stopped.

Your group turns to the group of four that went with a few games ago. You can't exactly tell what they are saying as everyone is yelling. They agree on something and you feel Dae-ho start running somewhere with you and the group of four following behind. He opens a door but the room already has people in it. The people in the room slammed the door shut before the same player from a few games ago, 120, started yelling. "Over here! This room is empty! hurry!"

All five of you started running towards the door and you all got inside on time except number 095 had fallen. 120 tried to go and save her but was shoved back in by some guy and before she could do anything, the doors shut and locked.

You had no idea what was happening all you saw was the young girls eyes from the rectangle hole in the door.

"unnie..." She said, fear in her voice.

"young-mi!" Player 120 exclaimed as she ran to the door, trying her absolute hardest to open it, but there was nothing she could do, the young girl had been shot.

Player 120 immediately went over to player 333, the guy who had stopped her from saving Young-mi, and started yelling at him.

Player 333 snapped back. "If you would've saved her you would all be dead right now! I'm the reason all of you are alive! Am I wrong?!"

You hesitantly spoke up. "He's right..."

Dae-ho soon followed after you, also agreeing.

Player 120 just stayed quiet as the door unlocked and everyone sorrowfully walked out of the room.

You all got back on the platform and Jung-bae turned to Gi-hun.

"what do you think it will be this time?" Jung-bae asked.

"two" Young-il asnwered.

Everyone in the group looked at him with worry. "why?" Jung-bae questioned.

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. The rest will be killed." Young-il answered as the platform abruptly stopped again.

"two" the speaker called out.

You had no time to think before Dae-ho grabbed your hand and started running with you to a room.

While you were running some guy without a teammate shoved you and you fell to the floor, your arm going right into your stomach.

Dae-ho reacted quickly, immediately grabbing the guy and punching him before shoving him to give himself some more time to grab you.

You feel yourself being quickly lifted up off the floor and being carried into a room.

Dae-ho sets you down on the floor, the door locking as he looks you over frantically. "baby?? are you ok???"

All you can do is whimper, you had hit your head pretty hard when you fell and your arm had also went right into your stomach.

"Can you talk to me??" He grabs your face softly and makes you look at him.

"my head hurts" you say quietly.

Dae-hos face lights up, happy you can atleast talk, but he still looks very concerned. "yeah? Did you hit it?" he asks with worry in his voice.

You nod as the doors unlock.

He looks at the door before look back at you "can you walk?'

You nod, knowing its probably a lie but you get up nonetheless, slightly stumbling.

Dae-ho puts an arm around your waist. "lean on me baby.." He orders sofly.

You do just that, depending on him to hold you up as the both of you walk out of the door and reunite with your group.

Gi-hun sees the state you're in and looks visibly worried. "are you ok y/n?"

You nod, too out of it to speak.

Gi-hun, not believing you looks at Dae-ho, hoping he'll provide an answer.

Dae-ho just gives him an unsure look and shrugs as they walk out of the game room.

Dae-ho carefully helps you navigate your way down the stairs. "are you sure you don't want me to carry you?"

You nod, not wanting to be a burden on him. "I'm alright Dae.."

He sighs and nods as the two of you make your way down the stairs into the main area.

Your group sat in their usual area while you got some rest. They discussed the vote that would be taking place soon and how they only need seven players to change from O to X to be able to go home.

As the voice form the speaker calls out that the vote is starting, Dae-ho goes over to the sleeping area and softly wakes you up.

You groan softly "Do I have to..."

Dae-ho looks at you softly "yes.. we are voting now.."

You whine and sit up, on the verge of tears as you just want to sleep and go home.

Dae-ho sees this and frowns. "I know baby I'm sorry.." He says as he helps you up.

*time skip to vote*

You all have finished voting and it was 49 X and O 50. There was one person left to vote. Young-il. But he looked very suspicious. You crossed your fingers as Dae-ho put his head in your shoulder, not being able to watch.

*beep*

The buzzer went off and Young-il had voted for X. It was a tie. Everyone from your group sighed in relief. The guard's announced that since it was a tie there would be another vote tomorrow.

A bit after the vote everyone lined up for dinner. Your group sat back in their spot and you just sat in bed and ate. Dae-ho decided to give you some space as your mood wasn't good and he didn't wanna bother you.

As you ate in your bed you could here people yelling and you see Dae-ho in the middle of it. Confused you stand up and try to go over to him but the old lady grabs your wrist, stopping you.

"Please don't get involved..." She says softly.

You sigh and just sit next to her. "what are they fighting over.."

"We were trying to get some of the people that voted for O to vote for X but they just got offended.." She explains.

You just sigh and realize you've eaten all your kimbap.

"Did you eat enough?" The old lady asks softly.

You smile at her. "ya.. this was probably one of the most filling meals since we've got here.."

You and her have a small conversation before Dae-ho comes back over, looking pretty pissed.

"what happened?" you ask him.

He looks at you, his expression softening. "It's nothing baby don't worry about it." he said, not wanting to stress you out anymore.

As your group sat there and talked you ended up falling asleep, using Dae-ho's shoulder as a pillow while he had his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your lap.

You woke up to the sound of the speaker saying players had been eliminated. Confused, you looked at the group. "what happened?"

Gi-hun looked at you and replied. "there must've been a fight."

And he was right. The people on O team soon started saying that X tried to fight them first and the people on the X team saying that O tried to fight them first.

You cuddle closer to Dae-ho, not liking the situation you're in currently. He rubs your side softly as he watches the commotion that is currently going on. While everything is happening, Gi-hun takes the opportunity to tell everyone there is gonna be a fight tonight as how they are all gonna hide until its over and stuff.

You, on the other hand are freaking out, scared for your life, and your baby's. You cuddle into Dae-ho more as he listens to Gi-hun talk and you silently cry. When Dae-ho pulls away to go to the sleeping area, he sees your face.

"hey baby whats wrong are you ok??" He asks worriedly.

"I'm scared..." you admit.

"hey.. look at me.." He makes you look at him. "You know I would never let anything happen to you.. I would protect you with my life..."

You continue crying softly. "But the baby- what if- earlier when I fell my arm hit my stomach really hard so I don't even know if it's ok.."

Dae-ho looks concerned and puts his hand on your bump gently. "Does it hurt at all?" He asks.

"N-not right now but it hurt a lot before-" you stutter.

"Hey.. breathe.. You and the baby will be ok..And I will do everything I possibly can too ensure that.. I promise.." He says softly, now holding your face again.

Your nerves calm down a lot.. You trust him with your life.. you always have so why would he lie now? he would'nt.

He smiles at you and wipes your tears before softly kissing you. You kiss back and it just feels like everything you were scared of before doesn't matter anymore.

Your kiss was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a voice over the speaker, announcing that it was time for bed, followed by the lights flicking off. The abruptness of it snapped you both back to reality, and for a moment, you just sat there, a little dazed. The atmosphere shifted as the intimate moment faded into something more serious. You exchanged a glance with Dae-ho, and without a word, you both made your way toward the sleeping area, the mood now quiet as the both of you sat with the rest of the group and waited for the fight to start like Gi-hun said.

As you all settled in, you felt Dae-ho's arm slip around you, pulling you close. Seeking comfort, you cuddled into him, letting the warmth and safety of his embrace ease your worries. You grew so comfortable, the tension fading, and for a moment, you forgot that danger could be just around the corner. With Dae-ho by your side, you felt secure enough to drift off to sleep, knowing he would protect you. And soon the world outside fading into the background.

a/n: And once again I suck at making endings. but I hope you guys enjoyed! I don't know if ill make a part three unless you guys really want it. But if I did make one I would have to wait till Season 3 comes out or just make up my own ending. what ever you guys prefer!

#dae ho x reader #daeho #daeho x reader #kang daeho #squid game x reader #kang dae ho #kang daeho x reader #x reader #kang dae ho x reader #dae-ho x reader #squid game #dae ho

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cumironi · 5 months ago

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MY LITTLE VIRGIN ！ ❞

GOJO SATORU , your used to be upperclassmen who happened to be your friends-with-benefits teaching you how to kiss, also the one who took your virginity.

warning. highschool! gojo satoru ( early twenty and you are nineteen ), virginity lost, fingering, raw/unprotected sex.

wc. 2,8k

“hehe... it's amusing how you're still clueless about kissing,” gojo remarked, seated on your bed. his fingers traced along your neck, gently moving up to your chin. in your friends-with-benefits dynamic, you'd sought gojo's guidance on kissing, a proposition he willingly accepted.

“prepare for the best kiss of your life,” gojo chuckled, leaning in closer to your face. lifting your chin, he gazed at your lips with a playful glint in his eyes. blushing profusely under gojo's intense gaze, you nervously lick your lips. “i'm ready, satoru. . .” your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain eye contact with him.

gojo smirks at your nervousness, finding it endearing. he leans in, closing the distance between your faces until his breath caresses your skin. gojo's smirk widens as he notices your blush deepening. his thumb gently brushes against your lower lip, parting them slightly. “nervous? there's no need to be. just relax and let me guide you...”

with those words, gojo closes the remaining gap between you. his lips meet yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. his free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head for better access as he deepens the kiss.

after a moment, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “like this... follow my lead and let instinct take over.” feeling overwhelmed but also strangely exhilarated by gojo's expert touch, you nod, trying to follow his instructions. your hands tentatively reach up to rest on his shoulders, holding onto him for support as he continues to guide you through the kiss.

as he pulls away again, you can't help but whimper softly in protest. but then you see that teasing smile on his lips and realize there's more to come. his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, gojo chuckles softly at your reaction. “oh? did you want more already?”

without waiting for an answer, he captures your lips once again in another searing kiss. this time though, he adds a new element— his tongue slips past your parted lips seeking entrance into your mouth. the sensation is overwhelming and intoxicating all at once. you find yourself responding eagerly, mimicking gojo’s movements as if driven by some primal urge.

pulling back after what seems like eternity but was probably mere seconds, gojo gazes down at you with satisfaction. “see? that wasn’t so bad now was it?” but before giving you time to respond, he leans in once more for another tantalizing kiss.

moaning softly into the kiss, you wrap your arms around gojo's neck, pulling him closer. your body feels electrified from the intimate contact, and you can't get enough of his taste, his scent, the way he makes you feel.

when he finally breaks the kiss again, you're left panting and dazed, struggling to regain your composure. “th-that was... s-satoru,” you manage to stammer out, your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. looking up at gojo with hooded eyes, you bite your lip and murmur, “more please... teach me everything...”

a low chuckle rumbles from within gojo's chest as he takes note of your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. “mmm... you're quite the eager student aren't you?” he leans down to capture your lips once more in a long, slow kiss that leaves both of you breathless when it ends. pulling back slightly, gojo looks into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“i’ll teach you everything... but remember, practice makes perfect. so let's keep practicing until we've perfected this art form together.” and without waiting for another word from you, he dives back into another passionate kiss— this time taking things even further than before.

lost in the whirlwind of sensations, you forget all about being shy or inexperienced. all that matters right now is gojo and the way he makes your entire body tingle.

your hands roam freely across his back, feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. you press yourself closer to him, wanting nothing more than to lose yourself completely in this kiss. every flicker of gojo's tongue against yours sends sparks shooting throughout your body. each brush against your sensitive lips draws moans from deep within your throat.

breaking away from the kiss momentarily, you gasp for air while looking up at gojo with lust-filled eyes. “more... please don't stop...” gojo grins wolfishly at your plea, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, “as you wish...”

he trails hot kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. one of his hands slides underneath your shirt, skimming over your stomach and ribcage before cupping your breast.

at the same time, his knee nudges your legs apart as he settles himself between them. the pressure of his hips against yours sends jolts of pleasure through your core. returning to your lips, gojo kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all of his desire into the embrace. when he finally pulls away, you're both panting heavily.

“how do you feel now? ready for round two?”

your mind is foggy with lust, unable to process coherent thoughts beyond the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. all you know is that you crave more of gojo's touch, more of his kisses, more of everything he's doing to you.

arching into his touch, you press your breast harder against his palm, silently begging for more stimulation. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction against the hard length of gojo's thigh. when he asks if you're ready for round two, you can only nod frantically, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form words. your lips seek his out once more, demanding another scorching kiss.

this time, as your tongues dance, you start to explore gojo's mouth with yours, learning the contours and depths of him. a satisfied growl escapes gojo as he feels your breasts pressing into his hand and your hips grinding against him. he loves seeing how responsive you are to his touches, how eager you are for more.

sliding one finger down from your breast, he teases along the waistband of your pants before dipping beneath the fabric. his digit traces lazy circles against your heated flesh, drawing soft whimpers from deep within your throat.

breaking off from the kiss, gojo looks down at you with a burning desire in his eyes. “let's make sure this second round is even better than the first...” with those words, he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them upwards to stroke that sweet spot hidden within. at the same time, his thumb finds its way to your clit and begins circling slowly around it.

“feel good?”

a loud moan tears itself from your throat as gojo's fingers delve deeper, hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know existed. your back arches off the bed, pushing your chest towards him. his thumb on your clit is pure torture— each circle sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. it feels incredible, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

your nails dig into gojo's back, leaving red marks where they claw at his skin. “‘toru. . .” you gasp out between moans, “feels so good...” your hips move instinctively against his hand, chasing after that elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach.

gojo's eyes darken with lust as he watches you writhe beneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. he loves seeing you like this— completely uninhibited and at his mercy. “that's it baby, let go. give in to the pleasure...”

he increases the speed of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you at a rapid pace. his thumb presses down firmly on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. gojo leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to mix pain with pleasure. his other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“come for me. i want to feel you fall apart on my fingers.”

the combination of gojo's relentless fingering and relentless thumbing sends shockwaves of ecstasy crashing through your body. every thrust of his fingers, every circle of his thumb pushes you higher and higher until there's no turning back. a strangled cry rips from your throat as you finally tip over the edge. your walls clench around gojo's fingers in rhythmic spasms, pulsating with each wave of orgasmic bliss that washes over you.

your entire world narrows down to the feeling of gojo's fingers inside you and his thumb working magic on your clit. the pleasure is so intense, so overpowering that it threatens to consume you whole. as the last tremors subside, you collapse back onto the bed— spent yet utterly satisfied.

gojo continues to pump his fingers slowly inside you as you come down from your high, milking every last drop of your release. once your spasms have ceased, he withdraws his fingers with a satisfied smirk.

“look at you, coming undone so beautifully for me. you took your lesson well, i must say.”

he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your essence off them with a low hum of appreciation. “delicious. . .” leaning over you, gojo captures your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. after a moment, he pulls back with a mischievous glint in his eye, “but we're far from done, sweetheart. there are still plenty more lessons to be learned... and i'm just getting started.”

even though you're still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, a fresh wave of arousal surges through you at gojo's words. the thought of what else he might teach you sends tingles racing down your spine.

you manage to push myself up onto your elbows, your heavy-lidded gaze locked onto gojo's handsome face. “show me, teach me everything...” without waiting for him to respond, you reach down and unbutton your pants with shaky hands. the cool air hits my overheated skin as you peel off your clothes piece by piece, exposing more and more of yourself to gojo’s hungry eyes.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you lay bare before him— vulnerable yet filled with anticipation for whatever comes next. watching you strip off your clothes, gojo's cock twitches eagerly against his own trousers. he lets out a low chuckle, admiring the sight of your flushed skin and swollen breasts.

“i love seeing you like this— open and willing. it's incredibly arousing...” he moves closer, his blue eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of exposed flesh. reaching out, he runs a single finger down the center line of your body from collarbone to belly button, savoring the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch.

“now, let's see how well you can please someone.”

with that said, gojo starts unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. his throbbing member springs free— long and thick— standing proudly erect against his lower abdomen.

“are you ready to take me on?”

your breath hitches in your throat as you watch gojo undo his belt and unzip his trousers. the sight of his erect member makes your pussy clench in longing. in response to his question, you nod vigorously, unable to form words due to the intense desire clouding your senses.

you reach out tentatively towards him, wanting nothing more than to wrap your fingers around his shaft and guide it towards your needy entrance. but instead of taking control, you wait patiently for him to initiate contact again.

as you lie there before him— naked and wanting— anticipation builds within you like never before, finally realizing that gojo is going to be the one who took your virginity. gojo smirks at your eagerness, enjoying the way you stare hungrily at his manhood. he steps out of his trousers and kicks them aside, revealing himself fully to you.

“there's no need to rush... we've got all night.”

he positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his cock against your slick folds. the tip rubs gently against your clit, spreading your wetness across both areas. looking up into your eyes, gojo gives you a wicked grin, “relax and enjoy the ride...”

slowly, he begins pushing into you— stretching your tight walls deliciously wide around him. each inch that enters fills you up more completely than anything ever has before.

“feels fucking amazing doesn’t it?”

“fuck!” you cried in pain the moment he's bottomed out inside you. your nails digging into his biceps and eyes tightly shut from the pain of your virginity being taken with his massive cock.

at your sharp intake of breath and pained cry, gojo pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sudden fullness. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, offering reassurance despite the fierce grip of your nails on his arms.

“shh, it's okay... just breathe. you're doing great.”

once you seem more comfortable, he carefully starts to rock his hips, withdrawing slightly before pressing back in at a slower, more controlled pace. the movement helps ease the initial discomfort, gradually building the pleasurable friction between your joined bodies.

“see? this isn't so bad, is it? in fact, it feels pretty damn good already...” as gojo starts moving, the initial pain begins to fade, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. it's almost like your body is remembering how to accommodate something so large inside you.

you manage a weak nod, still struggling to catch your breath, “y-yeah... it's okay now. . .” emboldened by the gentle rhythm, you start to move your hips in sync with gojo's, meeting him thrust for thrust. a soft moan escapes your lips as the pressure builds anew, this time centered on the sweet spot deep within you that he seems to hit perfectly with every stroke.

mindlessly, you tangle your fingers in his white hair, pulling him down for a desperate, clinging kiss as if trying to merge your very souls together through the intimate act. gojo grins against your lips, pleased by your growing responsiveness. he deepens the kiss further, tasting your sweetness while continuing his steady thrusts.

“that's right... let go and feel everything...”

he breaks away from the kiss only to trail hot kisses down along your jawline and neck. with each downward stroke of his tongue against sensitive skin, he matches it with another slow plunge into your welcoming depths.

feeling your inner muscles clenching around him drives gojo wild; he can tell that despite being a novice at sex, you were born for this kind of pleasure. the combination of gojo's relentless thrusts and teasing kisses sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. your mind becomes a blur of sensations— the feeling of him filling you completely, the sound of his low growls echoing in your ears, even the scent that surrounds you is intoxicating.

a loud gasp tears itself from your throat as he finds that perfect spot again and again, causing sparks to fly behind your closed eyelids, “oh god! ’toru. . .”

your entire focus narrows down to the point where they connect— it's overwhelming but also addictive. you find yourself arching up into him instinctively, urging him deeper.

“please don't stop. . .”

hearing you beg for more spurs gojo on, his movements becoming more urgent and powerful. he grips your hips firmly, using the leverage to piston into you at a frenzied pace.

“fuck, you feel incredible, so tight and wet for me.” his harsh breathing mingles with yours as he chases his impending climax, driven mad by the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping his cock. “gonna fill you up so g-good, baby, mark you as mine...”

gojo's thrusts grow erratic as he nears the edge, his balls drawing up tight against his body. with a final, brutal shove, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and holds still, roaring out his release as hot jets of cum flood your insides.

your whole body trembles violently beneath gojo as his seed floods your womb. the intense heat and pressure trigger an explosive orgasm in you, sending shockwaves of pure bliss radiating outward from your core.

your inner walls clench and flutter around his pulsing length, milking him for all he's worth. a strangled scream rips from your throat as wave after wave crashes over you, leaving you drenched in sweat and utterly spent.

“oh fuck! s-ah!atoru!”

as reality slowly comes back into focus, you realize just how deeply connected you two are at this moment— physically, emotionally and spiritually. there's no turning back now; you've been claimed by him in every possible way.

collapsing onto you, gojo lets out a satisfied sigh as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. he plants tender kisses along your collarbone and chest, marking you as his own in ways beyond mere physical possession.

“that was... incredible.”

still buried deep within you, he slowly starts to withdraw from your clenching walls, allowing them to stretch and contract around his softening member. each pull sends another jolt of pleasure through your system, prolonging the high.

“feel better now?”

despite having just given you the most intense experience of your life, gojo looks at you with genuine concern and affection. after he collapses onto you, his heavy weight provides a comforting warmth against your cooling skin. his chest rises and falls rapidly against your breasts, matching the frantic beating of your heart.

despite the exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being, there’s an undeniable satisfaction that settles deep within you. you run your fingers lazily through his disheveled hair, feeling proud yet vulnerable at having given yourself so completely to him.

“that was... incredible,” you murmur softly, give him a tired smile, looking up into those captivating blue eyes filled with raw desire and affection.

with a contented sigh, gojo leans down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. his tongue sweeps against yours softly, savoring the taste of you mixed with the musk of their combined arousal.

“mmm, i knew you'd be amazing...”

he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his expression a mix of pride, adoration, and possessiveness, “you're mine now, in every sense of the word. never forget that.” gojo rolls off of you and gathers you close, cradling your body against his as he strokes your hair soothingly, “rest now, my little virgin. we've got a lifetime of pleasure ahead of us.”

nestled securely in gojo's embrace, you let out a happy sigh, feeling safe and cherished in his strong arms. your eyelids grow heavy as the aftermath of your intense lovemaking washes over you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

in your dreams, you see flashes of the future— moments stolen from time, memories made with gojo, and a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. when you awaken, you know without a doubt that you belong to him, and he to you, forevermore.

as you drift off to sleep nestled against him, gojo watches over you protectively. he runs his hand gently across your back, marveling at how different things could have turned out had he not intervened earlier today.

but fate brought you here, together. and though he may be many things— powerful mage, leader of jujutsu high school— nothing compares to how much he cares for this fragile human girl now lying trustingly beside him.

he smiles softly as he listens to your quiet breathing, knowing that whatever challenges await them both, they will face them side by side. for better or worse, you are his now.

“sleep well, my love.”

#gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #anime smut #jjk x reader smut

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 6 months ago

Text

Jealousy

Three times Jason gets jealous during dates and one time you do (Pre-established relationship) ~1.6k words

You're perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Jason's life has never been better since he's asked you to be his partner. (Okay, hush, you asked him, but he was getting there, he swears, he had this twelve step plan and everything. Tim was going to jump off a ledge while throwing rose petals. Rose petals!)

He can't find a single problem with how your relationship is going. Well, expect, how everyone else seems to want your attention you too.

The little Café you wanted to try is nice, really. The guy behind the counter that's been staring at you since you both got here? Not so nice. It's annoying, how the guys gaze seems to linger on your legs, your smile, the way you brush your hair back. It's a struggle to focus on your words– but not a struggle to watch the way your lips move when you talk.

The worker takes a step out from behind the counter.

Oh hell no.

Jason's on his feet and pulling out the chair next to you in an instant, between one word your pretty voice is saying and the next, he's sitting by your side with an arm draped around your shoulder.

He loses his train of thought when you smile, pleased, and raise an eyebrow.

"What's this for, Jason?"

"Wanted to hear you better." He says, or he thinks he says that. He's too busy watching the creep slink back behind the counter, satisfaction growing in his chest.

You laugh. (He thinks angels might descend from the sky when you do.) And go back to telling your story. It's much easier to listen this time. That's what he tells himself, at least until your thigh presses against his.

Gotham Zoo is actually really nice for, you know, Gotham. Bruce poured money into it before, but ever since Damian found out about it, he's practically ensured the place will run ethically and comfortably for the next 100 years. Which Jason thought was cool, but it's even cooler that he gets to watch his partner coo over the new petting zoo.

"Aw, Jason, look at the lambs! They're so soft. I wanna take one home." You sound giddy, eyes bright and smile wide. He can't quite pull his focus away from you to see which creature you're referring to.

"They're pretty cute." He responds instead. Not cuter than you, though.

"Could you imagine one for the apartment? They'd sleep in bed with us. It would be like cuddling a cloud." You say idly, fingers stoking the top of the animals head.

That makes him pause. How'd he cuddle you if there's some barn animal in the middle of the bed? There's no way he could get close enough to you if some pet you found cute was cuddled between you. He clears his throat. "Well, ah, I don't know how the landlord feels about lambs but you can always cuddle me? I'm– I could be soft?" Wow, okay. Not what he wanted to say. He cringes a little.

But you stand up, smiling brighter and gaze focused on him. That settles the feeling in the pit of his stomach. You curl your fingers with his and take his hand, pulling it to your face to kiss his knuckles. "You're my favorite thing to cuddle, you know."

Oh. "Huh. I mean, good." He stumbles out. No, his ears are definitely not feeling warm. And no, his heart isn't beating faster as he follows you towards the next enclosure. "I could wear wool, though? If you wanted?"

That makes you laugh. Eyes trailing to him with such fondness he nearly sinks to his knees. Until he sees the playfulness etched in your face. "I saw you petting those rabbits early. I could wear bunny ears? If you wanted?"

He chokes on air. You might be trying to kill him. His whole face feels as heated as his ears. "Wow. I– if you wanted?"

You giggle, pulling away to observe the next lucky animal that you see.

"Hey. Wait–" He says your name, voice a little pitched. "Did you want–?" You only wink at him. That shuts him. And if he spends the rest of the date a little distracted, well, you seem proud that you managed to make him so flustered.

Your coworker has been talking to you for thirteen minutes and fourty-seven seconds. Jason knows this because he's been watching the clock since he got here. It happens more often than not, him walking you home from work. He shows up fifteen minutes early because he knows you'll slip out given the chance. Something about not taking up too much of his time. Don't you know you're the only one he wants to spend his time with?

Jason crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at your coworker. Three inches. That's the amount of space your coworker has moved closer to you since he's gotten here. Not respectable at all. Doesn't he know you're with Jason? Maybe he should have stopped into that jewelry store he was eyeing earlier. And called Tim to put in an order for rose petals.

Your coworker shifts another inch towards you. And that's it. Your shift has thirty-five seconds left and that's exactly the amount of time it takes for him to be by your side. His arm slips around your waist comfortably, like it belongs there, because it does. He kisses your cheek and lets his gaze settle on your coworker. And if his face is a little more threatening than usual, he definitely isn't trying to intimidate your coworker. (Yes, he is.)

"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" He drawls, body relaxed like he isn't torn between showing your coworker exactly who you're dating and pushing down the jumble of emotion in his throat. "I was thinking take out for dinner?"

You relax into his side. Oh. You relaxed into his side and you're smiling at him. It evens out the pounding in his heart he didn't even realize was happening. The tension threatening to take over his shoulders disappears like it never existed.

"Yeah, Jason, I'm ready. I missed you. Just let me clock out." You pull away– 'no' he starts to think– and then you take his hand, pulling him along with you.

"I missed you too." He answers, and you don't quite see the smug grin he sends over his shoulder to your coworker.

Jason's perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Willing to try new things. A total package. That's something you know about your boyfriend. So when he agreed to go dancing with you at Gothams newest club, you were excited. A whole night spent enjoying time with your boyfriend. And you both get to dress up a little. You feel hot, and he definitely looks hot. You didn't think that'd be an issue. But, it is. Because you can see your boyfriend getting held up by two of the prettiest girls you've ever seen.

He's holding two drinks, one for himself and one he went to get for you. It soothes the tightness in your throat that he does not look thrilled to be talking to them. The softness he has when he's with you gone, replaced with poorly masked annoyance.

Any comfort you were feeling from the look on his face disappears when one of the girls puts her hand on his arm, giggling like he's said the funniest thing in the world. Absolutely not. You're walking over to them before Jason even has time to shrug her hand from his arm.

"Hey, honey." You say, voice sweet and sugary as you take one of the drinks from his hand, hooking your arm through his and tucking yourself against him. "Everything okay?"

It makes your heart flutter everytime, the way his entire face seems to change when he looks at you. "Hey, baby. Yeah. Everything's okay. Didn't mean to take so long. Were you worried?" He asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair.

The girls seem to deflate at how his complete attention is on you, how he instinctively shifts until you're pressed flushed against his side, two pieces of a whole. You have to force back the pride that threatens to glint in your eyes. "Not worried. I just was getting bored without you."

Neither of you really look over at the girls when they murmur something about catching up with their friends, but Jason manages a polite nod. Once they're gone, his grin widens, eyes teasing. "You were jealous. You called me honey."

You gasp in mock offense, yes, honey isn't the first term of endearment you jump to, but it's a perfectly valid word for him. "Jealous? Jealous that my tall, dark, sweet, and handsome boyfriend was getting hit on?"

He laughs, you think you might have swooned in a different time. "C'mon, pretty. Give me this. I saw you watching."

You can't help but smile at him and wonder, vaugley, if he knows you'd give him anything he asked of you. "Yeah, yeah. I was a little jealous. But, don't think I don't notice when you get jealous. Now, come dance with me. I like this song."

Now it's his turn to gasp, faux denial on his face. "I have never, not once in my life, been jealous."

You roll your eyes, playful and light as you pull him along to the dance floor. "Alright, lover boy. Because you're definitely not the reason my coworker wouldn't talk to me for a week."

He looks pleased at that. "He didn't?"

You raise yourself on your toes, kissing his cheek and leaving a smudge of lipstick. Neither of you move to wipe it off. "Mm. No. He didn't."

"Nice." He mumbles, unhooking your arms so he can hold your waist as you reach the dance floor. "I do get jealous too, though, sometimes."

Laughing, you find the beat of the music together and your world centers on him, just how his centers on you. "I know."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #3 and 1 #bf!jason todd

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lupinqs · 2 months ago

Note

p being an annoying talkative fuck during sex LOL

TALKING TOO MUCH ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige is too damn talkative during sex

☆ ━ word count: 1.8K

☆ ━ warnings: smut!!!!!!! (strap, r receiving) just porn absolutely no plot

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: i wrote this in like 10 minutes sorry if it’s shit lol

AS THE ROOM grows hotter with each passing second, the dim lighting casting long, intimate shadows across the bed, Paige’s body moves in time with yours, your breaths mingling. The weight of Paige against you, the rhythm of her hips, the heat building between you—it’s all you can focus on at first. Paige’s slow, steady thrusts drive you closer and closer to that precipice, each motion precise, purposeful.

But then Paige starts talking.

At first, it isn’t too much—just small murmurs of praise, things like “you feel so good” or “God, I love you.” Words that you’d usually melt over, but tonight, Paige isn’t stopping. Her words come faster, more incessant, and you find yourself struggling to focus. Paige’s voice, usually low and breathless and sinful, fills the space between you, but it’s becoming more of distraction than an enhancement.

“You like that?” Paige asks, her voice breathy but insistent, leaning down to kiss the edge of your jaw between words. “Fuck, mama, you’ve never looked hotter. Seriously. Look so good under me like this. Love seein’ it. D’you want it slower or—?”

“Paige…” Your breath hitches, not from the pleasure but from the interruption. You can feel Paige’s body continuing to move against yours, her strap going in and out of you, but the steady flow of words keep pulling your attention away from the sensation.

Paige presses her lips to your ear, her voice softer now, but still just as persistent. “I just—you’re so perfect, baby. So perfect for me. Can you feel how deep—?”

You let out a soft, exasperated noise, your head tipping back against the pillow as you try to regain your focus, the pleasure that’s been building actually starting to ebb away as Paige keeps on fucking yapping.

Genuinely, you wonder if she has ADHD or something.

“Paige…” you whisper again, a little more firmly this time, trying to guide the blonde back to the moment, back to the your bodies move so perfectly together.

But Paige doesn’t seem to notice. “I—fuck—I love how you feel, ma. It’s just—God, it’s so good, yeah? You’re incredible. Fucking incredible, baby. I could do this all fuckin’ night, seriously, just—”

You can’t take it anymore.

With a quick motion, you reach up and press a hand to Paige’s lips, your fingers gently silencing her mid-sentence. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, her body stilling for just a moment as she looks down at you, confused.

“Shh,” you murmur, slow but firm, your eyes locking onto Paige’s with an almost amused frustration. Your lips quirk upwards slightly. “Baby, you’re talking too much.”

Paige’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her lips still caught beneath your hand, but there’s a playful gleam in her eyes, as if she didn’t even realize what she’s been doing.

You don’t give her a chance to respond—or to start talking again. Instead, you pull her face down toward yours, capturing Paige’s lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s deep, slow, and you pour everything you have into it, hoping to redirect Paige’s energy. Your hand slides from the blonde’s lips to the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, deepening the kiss until all you can feel is Paige—her warmth, her breath, the soft moan that escapes her as your tongue slips into her mouth.

Paige seems to get the message.

Her body starts moving again, her hips resuming their slow, deliberate rhythm, but this time, her words are replaced by soft, breathy sounds, the two of you finally beginning to sync. The tension returns, the heat between you rising again, and your focus narrows back to the feeling of Paige moving inside you, the way your bodies are pressed so tightly together, every inch of your skin tingling from the closeness.

Paige pulls back from the kiss just slightly, her lips hovering over yours as she whispers, “Sorry.” Her breath is warm against your mouth, but this time, there’s no rush to speak, just the soft murmur of apology, followed by another kiss, slower, deeper.

You smile against her lips, your frustration melting away as the familiar heat builds within your stomach. You pull Paige closer, your hips moving in perfect sync with here, no more words, no more interruptions. Just the steady rise and fall of breaths, the press of the strap within you, the warmth of Paige’s skin against yours.

This is what you needed tonight—quiet, intimate, just the two of you lost in the moment together. Paige, finally quiet, lets her body do the talking, her movements speaking louder than any words could. Every thrust is slow but purposeful, every kiss a promise, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into the sensation, your body trembling as Paige brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Better?” Paige whispers after a long moment, her voice softer now, almost teasing as she pulls back just enough to catch your gaze.

You let out a breathless laugh, nodding as you tighten your grip on Paige’s shoulders, pulling her back down for another kiss, unable to form words through the gaze of pleasure building.

The blonde’s hips begin to pick up their pace, the rhythm of her thrusts growing faster and deeper. Your breath quickens, chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. One of your hands falls from Paige’s shoulder to the mattress, your fingers digging into the sheets, gripping tightly.

“Fuck, P,” you gasp out, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel her pinch your hip a little, and it makes your gaze flutter back, locking onto hers, and she’s got this look in her eye that has your nails curling into her shoulder harshly.

Your breath catches as Paige’s next thrust hits deeper, the sound squelching, meeting that perfect spot right inside you. “Mm, so good,” you murmur to her, hand moving from her shoulder to her hair, tugging slightly. “Feels so good… keep doin’ that.”

Paige’s lips brush against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she kisses her way down the curve of your throat. The soft, wet press of Paige’s mouth against your pulse makes your heart race even faster, the heat in your belly growing more intense with every second. You throw your head back slightly, hair splayed out across the pillow, as a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Yes, like that,” you gasp, body arching up against Paige’s. “Fuck.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look down at you, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glint with amusement and something darker, more teasing. She’s covered in sweat, and she gleams all fucking over. “Who’s the talkative one now, huh?” she whispers, voice low and goading.

Your head snaps forward, eyes narrowing as you shoot Paige a look that’s equal parts frustration and desire. “Shut up,” you whine, the words laced with a mix of need and exasperation. But they’re barely out of your mouth before Paige’s hips move again thrusting hard, and you let out a louder, desperate moan.

Paige’s smirk only deepen, and she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t ease up. She thrusts agin, then again, her damned purple strap hitting that same perfect spot inside you with precision, over and fucking over. Your entire body tenses, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you let out another sharp cry of pleasure.

“God, right there,” you whimper, voice shaking. “Please, P, don’t stop.”

Paige’s lips find your neck again, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She thrusts harder now, her body pressing you deeper into the mattress with each movement, her breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your skin.

You can feel the tension building within you, your muscles tightening, your breath growing more erratic as Paige continues to slam her hips into yours, unrelenting, perfect. The pleasure could tighter and tighter in your abdomen, ready to snap at any second.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your voice is barely more than a breathy whimper now, your hips lifting to meet Paige’s every movement, chasing that overwhelming, all-consuming release that’s just out of reach.

Paige pulls away just enough to look right in your eyes, her breath heavy, chest heaving, her lips swollen from the kisses. She rolls her hips again, watching your face contort in pleasure, your body trembling beneath her. A little noise escapes the back of her throat at the wet sound of her strap deep within your pussy.

“You close?” she asks roughly.

You can only nod, your mouth falling open in a soundless moan as Paige hits that spot again, harder this time, sending a shockwave through your entire body.

“Shit, ma,” Paige groans, her words returning as your climax approaches—she always talks the most when you’re about to cum. Her hand holds your hip down as her movements speed up, and the sound of her skin slapping against yours, the squelching of your soaking cunt—it’s overwhelming. “Listen to that. Tellin’ me to be quiet when that pussy screamin’ for me. Screamin’ for my dick. C’mon, now, baby.”

It’s true. The noises resounding from your lower half are loud and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucked out. And it only gets more obscene when her fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick, sure circles.

“Cum for me, mama,” Paige murmurs, voice soft but commanding as she leans down to kiss your parted lips. “Cum all fuckin’ over me. Needa feel that sweet shit.”

That’s all it takes. Your body arches up off the bed, your back bowing as the pleasure finally snaps, sending you spiraling into a release so intense it leaves you shaking. Your nails dig into the back of Paige’s neck, tugging at her hair, eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of euphoria washes over you, your entire body trembling beneath Paige’s.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down riding out your orgasm with steady, deep thrusts, her mouth pressed to your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subsides, you collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Paige slows her movements, pulling out gently before rolling onto her side next to you. She slips out of the strap before propping herself up on an elbow as she looks down at you, a soft, smug smile playing at the edges of her lips.

“You good?” she asks tenderly, trailing her fingers soothingly along your arm.

You nod, still trying to calm your breathing, your body feeling deliciously spent. You turn your head to meet Paige’s gaze, lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile.

“Yeah… just… shut up next time,” you tease, your voice breathy but full of warmth.

Paige chuckles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, her fingers brushing lightly through your damp hair. “I’ll try,” she whispers against your skin, lips lingering.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #ncaa wbb #wcbb x reader #wnba #wlw #wlw smut #lgbtq

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iris-qt · 11 days ago

Text

physical affection

& how the slytherin boys show it

I. MATTHEO RIDDLE

Mattheo Riddle showed love the way he did everything: loud, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Pumpkin Pookie Pie!” His booming voice rang through the corridor as you buried your face in your hands. He’d been calling you that for weeks, his new favorite way to get under your skin.

Before you could respond, his arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “What’s wrong? Too shy to admit you love it?” he teased, his grin wicked.

“Too mortified to acknowledge your existence,” you shot back, trying to wriggle free.

He only held on tighter. “Oh no, you’re stuck with me now,” he said, steering you down the hall as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that day, you found him perched on the edge of your study table in the library, nudging your quill off balance with his finger.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, grabbing it before it rolled onto the floor. “Some of us are trying to pass.”

“Pass? You’ll ace it,” he said confidently, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. “I mean, you’ve got me, don’t you?”

“You’re a distraction.”

“And yet,” he quipped, flicking your nose, “you’re smiling.”

You were. Begrudgingly.

Then there were the bear hugs. Merlin, the bear hugs. Mattheo had an uncanny talent for sensing when you were stressed, usually followed by him swooping in and pulling you into a hug that could rival a skull-crushing bludger.

One evening, as you stared blankly at your parchment, trying and failing to organize your thoughts, he came up behind you. Without warning, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you clean off your chair.

“Mattheo!” you yelped, flailing.

“Shh,” he said, spinning you around. “This is a medical intervention. You were looking far too tense.”

By the time he set you back down, your frustration had melted into laughter, your cheeks warm as you leaned back into his arms for a moment longer than you’d care to admit.

But there were other moments, too. Quieter ones, where his teasing gave way to something softer.

The common room was nearly empty when he found you curled up on the couch, a book in your lap but your eyes distant. Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, close enough that your knees touched.

You expected a quip or a joke, but instead, his hand reached out, finding yours where it rested on the page. His fingers laced through yours, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your knuckles.

The playful grin he always wore was gone, replaced by something calmer. “You’re too brilliant to stress like this,” he murmured, his voice low.

For once, you didn’t argue. His hand in yours felt grounding, his words a quiet reassurance..

II. THEODORE NOTT

Theodore Nott didn’t need grand gestures to show he cared. He was subtle, deliberate, and always knew exactly what you needed without a single word.

Like now, as you struggled to balance a precarious stack of books in the library. “Need a hand?” he asked casually, appearing out of nowhere.

“I’ve got it,” you huffed, shifting the stack.

“You mean, you’re about to drop it,” he corrected, plucking the books from your arms with ease.

“Show off,” you muttered, but the corners of your mouth twitched.

He gave you a small, amused smile as he set the books down on your table. Then, without a word, he reached forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“Better,” he murmured before sitting down across from you. It was so casual, so effortless, but your heart still skipped a beat.

Later, in the Great Hall, it was his hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of students. It wasn’t pushy or overbearing, it was just enough to let you know he was there, steady and constant.

“Theo, I’m not made of glass” you teased as you sat down, and he leaned against the table beside you.

“No, but you’re terrible at dodging elbows,” he quipped, nodding toward the chaos of the lunch line.

He was right, of course. He always was.

And then there were the little things he did that were so infuriatingly him.

Like the time he stole your quill mid-essay. “Theo!” you snapped, glaring at him.

“You’ve been using it wrong,” he said nonchalantly, twirling it between his fingers like a wand duelist showing off.

“How can you use a quill wrong?”

“You can. You’ve been gripping it like you’re stabbing someone. Here.” He handed it back, his fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. “Relax your grip, or you’ll snap the nib.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help noticing how much smoother your writing felt afterward.

And then, on a rainy afternoon when you were both sprawled in the common room, you’d been flipping through a book while Theo quietly worked on an Arithmancy chart. Without looking up, he reached out and nudged a mug of tea toward you.

“You’re looking a little pathetic,” he said, his tone completely deadpan.

“Thanks, Theo,” you said dryly, but you took the tea anyway, smiling softly as you sipped it.

It wasn’t until you glanced over later that you noticed his gaze lingering on you, a rare warmth in his usually calm expression.

“What?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Nothing.”

But as his hand reached out to brush against yours once again, you realized that with Theo, even the smallest touch felt like the loudest declaration.

III. LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo Berkshire loved quietly and warmly, his affection woven into the small, steady ways he touched you.

Like the way he always grabbed your hand without thinking, his fingers threading through yours as naturally as breathing. It didn’t matter where you were: in the middle of a crowded corridor, walking to Hogsmeade, or, as it happened today, dodging Peeves’ latest chaotic masterpiece of enchanted water balloons.

“Quick!” Lorenzo yanked you behind a suit of armor, his hand gripping yours firmly as water splashed past.

“You could’ve warned me sooner!” you hissed, clutching your soaked sleeve.

“I did warn you,” he said innocently, his grin betraying no remorse. He squeezed your hand before letting go to wring out his own robe. “Besides, you’re lucky I’m here. Imagine if Peeves got you while you were alone.”

“Yeah, I’d never survive without you,” you deadpanned, earning a soft chuckle.

Then there were his hugs: warm, steady, and impossible to resist.

One afternoon, you’d been pacing in the common room, ranting about something ridiculous Professor Snape had said in Potions. Lorenzo was sitting on the couch, watching you with a quiet amusement, until you threw your hands in the air in frustration.

“Am I wrong, though?” you demanded.

Instead of answering, he stood, stepped forward, and pulled you into a hug. It was so sudden, you froze.

“Lorenzo, what are you---”

“Shh,” he murmured, his arms snug around you. “You’re spiraling. Just… stop pacing and let me hold you for a second.”

For a moment, you considered pushing him away, purely out of principle. But his embrace was so warm, so comforting, that you found yourself leaning into it instead.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“And you’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he said, his voice muffled but teasing.

Then there were the casual touches that seemed second nature to him, like the way he always rested a hand on your shoulder when he leaned down to read over your notes.

“Did you mean to write ‘infusion’ here?” he asked once, pointing to your parchment.

“Yes, Enzo,” you said, your tone mockingly patient. “That’s exactly what I meant to write.”

“Good. Just checking.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before walking off, as if correcting your work was the most normal thing in the world.

But perhaps the most Lorenzo thing he did was during Quidditch practice. You’d shown up to watch, cheering loudly enough to embarrass him in front of the whole team.

After practice, he jogged over, damp and out of breath, and pulled you into a sweaty, enthusiastic hug.

“Lorenzo!” you shrieked, trying to push him off.

“Just sharing the victory,” he said with a grin, tightening his grip.

“Victory? You missed three goals!”

“Details,” he said, leaning back just enough to grin at you. “Besides, I know you secretly love this.”

And as much as you complained, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Because with Lorenzo, every touch, whether it was a hand in yours, a shoulder squeeze, or a hug that left you blushing, felt like home.

IV. DRACO MALFOY

Draco Malfoy had a way of turning even the simplest gestures of affection into acts of grandeur.

“Y/N,” he drawled, stepping into the courtyard where you were waiting. “Your scarf is a disaster.”

You looked down, confused. “It’s just a scarf, Draco.”

“It’s an offense to fashion,” he corrected, already closing the distance between you. Before you could stop him, his gloved hands were carefully unwinding the scarf from your neck.

“Draco, it’s cold!”

“Shh.” He ignored your protest, methodically rewrapping it, each fold placed with the utmost precision. “If you insist on walking around like this, the least I can do is ensure you don’t embarrass me.”

Once he finished, he stepped back, inspecting his work like a proud artist. “There. Better.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though you had to admit the scarf did feel warmer.

Later, during a stroll to Hogsmeade, he offered his arm with a flourish.

“Draco, we’re not at a ball,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“And yet,” he said, his tone prim, “you look like you might trip over the cobblestones at any moment. I’m merely preventing a tragedy.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped your arm through his anyway. He gave a satisfied smirk, his fingers resting lightly over yours.

Then there were the smaller gestures, the ones you weren’t entirely sure were affectionate or just Draco being Draco.

Like the time he spotted a speck of dust on your robe during dinner.

“Hold still,” he said sharply, brushing it off with the utmost seriousness.

“Draco, it’s barely visible---”

“Barely visible isn’t invisible,” he cut in, flicking the imaginary lint away with a look of triumph. “You’re welcome.”

Sometimes, his gestures were less about precision and more about necessity. During a Quidditch match, the wind had ripped your hair tie loose, leaving your hair whipping into your face. Draco, seated beside you, sighed audibly before pulling out a spare ribbon from his pocket.

“You carry ribbons?” you asked, bewildered.

“Of course not,” he said, already tying it into place with practiced ease. “Mother always says to be prepared for emergencies. Apparently, this qualifies.”

“Does it?”

“Obviously,” he said, brushing a stray strand out of your face. “Imagine how ridiculous you looked before I fixed it.”

You stared at him, torn between laughing and being annoyed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re lucky I am,” he replied smugly, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

Whether it was adjusting your scarf or offering his arm, Draco's gestures always came with a quiet, meaningful undertone: he cared more than he’d ever admit.

V. BLAISE ZABINI

Blaise Zabini’s affection was effortless, delivered with the same smooth confidence he carried everywhere he went.

Take, for example, the way his hand always found your thigh when you sat next to him. It didn’t matter if it was in the library, the common room, or even during a particularly dull History of Magic lecture. His hand would settle there, light and casual, like it belonged.

“Are you even paying attention?” you whispered once, glancing at him while Professor Binns droned on about goblin rebellions.

“Not really,” he said, smirking as his fingers tapped absentmindedly against your leg. “But you are, and that’s far more interesting.”

His casual touches extended to the little things, too. Like the time you’d been sitting together at breakfast, distractedly spreading jam on your toast while skimming your notes. Blaise had leaned over, taken the knife from your hand, and spread the jam evenly in one smooth motion.

“You were going to ruin it,” he said simply, setting the toast back on your plate.

“It’s toast, Blaise,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Precisely. There’s no excuse for sloppy toast,” he replied, his lips quirking into a half smile as he rested his elbow on the table and leaned closer.

He was equally casual about his protectiveness. When you walked into the common room one night, balancing a stack of books, Blaise, who was lounging on the couch, arched a brow.

“Drop one of those, and I’ll laugh,” he said lazily, though he was already standing.

“You’re so helpful,” you said sarcastically.

But before you could move, he reached out, took the books from your arms, and placed them on the nearest table. His hand brushed your back as he passed, light and deliberate. “There. Now you don’t have to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Even in the rare moments when you were annoyed with him, his touch had a way of disarming you.

Once, after an argument about which Quidditch team was better, you’d crossed your arms and turned away from him. Blaise, unbothered, leaned back against the couch and stretched his arm along the backrest until his fingers lazily grazed your shoulder.

“You’re mad,” he observed, his voice amused.

“No, I’m---” You stopped mid-sentence as he lightly trailed his fingers down your arm. It wasn’t much, just enough to make you shiver and forget whatever comeback you’d been forming.

“Hmm?” he prompted, his smirk growing.

“Nothing,” you muttered, glancing away, which only made him chuckle softly.

VI. REGULUS BLACK

Regulus Black wasn’t one for grand gestures. His affection was quiet, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you always noticed.

It was in the way his fingers would brush against yours as you walked side by side through the castle corridors, his hand lingering just long enough to send a silent, unspoken message.

“Regulus,” you teased once, glancing down at where his hand hovered near yours. “You can hold my hand, you know. I won’t bite.”

He huffed softly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you replied, your voice laced with amusement. But before you could say anything else, his fingers laced with yours, quick, almost shy, but steady.

In the common room, when you were bent over a pile of parchments, furiously scribbling down notes, he would sometimes come up behind you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said one evening, his voice low and steady.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his thumb brushed against the fabric of your robes, a small, grounding gesture. “Just don’t forget to breathe,” he said softly before slipping away, leaving behind the faint warmth of his touch.

And then there were the moments that caught you off guard, like when you’d been lost in thought by the Black Lake, the chilly wind tugging at your cloak. Regulus appeared beside you silently, slipping his scarf from around his neck and draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested, clutching the soft wool.

“I’ll survive,” he replied, his tone so matter-of-fact it made you smile. He didn’t move to take the scarf back, though he did stand close enough that his arm brushed yours.

And then one evening in the library, you were both pouring over ancient texts for a Potions essay, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the scratch of quills. Without looking up, he reached over and adjusted the candle near your book, tilting it so the light fell more evenly across the pages.

“Thanks,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He shrugged, not meeting your gaze, but the faintest hint of a smile played on his lips.

VII. TOM RIDDLE

Tom Riddle’s affection was as precise and calculated as everything else he did.

You were pacing the length of the common room, muttering under your breath as you reviewed your notes for the tenth time that evening. Tom, seated in his usual armchair, watched you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“I can’t help it,” you replied, not stopping. “I need to make sure I’ve got everything memorized.”

Before you could pass him again, he stood, closing the distance between you in two measured strides. Gently but decisively, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Stop,” he commanded, his tone low but unyielding. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, a gesture that was oddly soothing despite the intensity of his stare. “You’re better than this frantic display. Calm your mind.”

For a moment, all you could do was blink up at him, the warmth of his hands grounding you in a way that words never could.

“Better?” he asked, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides, though he lingered close enough that the heat of his presence remained.

There were other moments like this, too, where his touch was both a command and a reassurance.

Like the time he found you struggling to reach a book in the library. Without a word, he appeared behind you, effortlessly plucking the book from the shelf and handing it to you. When you opened your mouth to thank him, he tilted your chin up with a single finger, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t have to struggle,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Or the time you were arguing with him over something trivial (probably his refusal to let anyone but himself tutor you).

“You’re insufferable,” you’d snapped, crossing your arms.

“And you’re too intelligent to waste time bickering with me,” he replied smoothly. Before you could fire back, he placed his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Now, sit down and let me help you. You’ll thank me later.”

Despite the commanding edge to his touch, there was something deeply reassuring about it. A promise, unspoken but felt in every deliberate move.

Because with Tom, every gesture carried the same message: You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.

A/N: SURPRISEEE just temporarily back bc i missed writing and I missed you guys

Taglist (for those who asked to be tagged in everything) = @smut-anarchy, @marikajhaha, @nottinmyheart, @hzdhrtss, @babene-e

love u guys

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say-al0e · 7 months ago

Text

Electric Touch

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: Following your marriage to Prince Aemond, you did not imagine there would be a bedding ceremony. Nor did you imagine yourself falling so quickly for the one-eyed prince. But you quickly learned he was more than met the eye. | Ft. Anon request for "“What part of I want you and only you do you not understand?” + “Love makes you weak but, god, I’d rather be weak with you by my side than face a life without you.” Warnings: Bedding ceremony, PinV, guarded Aemond, Aegon is an asshole (briefly, then he's gone), one mention of death in childbirth (not graphic, very brief), allusion to Aemond's brothel trip. Anything I missed, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader (wife!Reader) Word Count: 5.1k Requests are Open | HotD Taglist

The fire blazing in Aemond’s eye was not what you expected. It was not fueled by desire, a lust for his new bride or the exciting conquest of claiming your maidenhead as you’d long been warned. It was not bright or joyous, a fire befitting the occasion of your wedding night. Instead, it was dark - angry, a wild blaze threatening to torch everything in its path with little regard for the consequences.

Though your new husband had been nothing but kind to you, polite and even occasionally charming, for the first time since stepping foot into King’s Landing, you finally understood why so many tended to avert their gaze lest they face Aemond’s ire.

Before you stood Aemond One-Eye, a fierce dragon rider whose presence commanded attention, and you struggled to keep from withering beneath his gaze as you held his dark look with an even one of your own.

Around you, his apartments teemed with life. Drunken revelers laughed as they surged into the room and circled the pair of you, some of them shouting tawdry jokes while others lamented the loss of the right to the first night. Regardless of their mood, it seemed as if every man in the realm fought to be at your side in a room that once felt so spacious but now left you struggling to catch your breath as they began tugging at pieces of your clothing.

As many hands clumsily tugged at well-tied laces and the heavy fabric of your gown, a few highborn ladies - friends you’d made in the short time you’d been at Court - dutifully removed Aemond’s clothes with much less vigor than their husbands or brothers or cousins.

Aegon led the charge, grin on his lips and breath reeking of wine as he leaned in close. Aemond’s gaze faltered for only a moment, turning to his brother and flashing a warning even the drunkest of men could read very clearly, before it returned to you as Aegon pointedly ignored him. Your drunken good-brother chose, instead, to tip your chin with fingers sticky with wine and draw your gaze away from your husband.

“Do not worry, good-sister,” he began, voice loud, despite his performative attempt at a whisper. He spared Aemond a look, eyes glinting with a mirth that bordered on malice - before he returned his gaze to you. “I made sure my brother was well-educated in the art of pleasure but should you find yourself wanting, you need only say the word.”

By design, you were not given the chance to respond. The last of your garments was removed from your body and Aegon released his grip on your chin to grab your waist.

The sea of revelers parted. Amidst a cacophony of cheers and jeers, a few murmurs as to how it was a shame your father had agreed to wed you to a man they saw as less than whole, Aegon and one of his friends carried you through the crowd and deposited you into Aemond’s bed.

It was only when you were settled amongst the furs and linens that they were all finally ushered out of the room.

If you were honest, it surprised you that Aemond allowed the bedding ceremony in the first place. The idea was put forth by his brother, a suggestion he’d barely blinked an eye at, but it was plain to see just how adversely the entire spectacle affected him as he approached the bed.

Aemond Targaryen, the very image of his house’s beauty and fire, stood before you with his face a mask of composure you had yet to see fully slip. There were cracks, glimpses into the churning abyss that lingered just beneath the calm surface, and you could see them beginning to spread as a jeer from the crowd echoed just beyond the steel and wood of the door.

There was a flash of hurt, a glimpse so brief you felt certain you’d imagined it, before he swallowed and his jaw tensed. He steeled himself, his resolve, and you could see the mask slip back into place.

“My prince,” you began, voice far quieter than you intended as you sat upright to meet his gaze. “I do not-“

A hum escaped your new husband as he stepped closer, pressing a knee into the soft surface beneath you and shaking his head slightly. “We will speak when there is no crowd standing guard just outside, waiting for evidence our marriage has been consummated. For now, we must fulfill our duty as husband and wife.”

There was an edge of finality in his tone, no room left for argument as he reached for you. Though his touch was not harsh, not as insistent or eager as the men who’d taken great joy in stripping you bare, it was firmer than you’d expected. In the weeks of your courtship, he’d lended an arm as you descended the steps in the garden or offered a hand as you climbed them - each touch soft, almost tentative, and as brief as could be considered proper.

It was wistful, possibly even naive, to believe the softness of his touch was affection or that it would continue as he pressed you back into the pillows. Aemond was not an outwardly affectionate man, that much you knew to be true, nor was he used to being treated so tenderly. His life had been one lived in a gilded cage, acquiescing to everything expected of him with little argument and even less connection. Love would not come easy to him, nor would affection.

Only time would bring him comfort, trust in you and the ability to be vulnerable, so you made no argument as he settled himself over you.

The dim candlelight made it difficult to see much - and you wondered how Aemond might react if you allowed yourself to savor the sight of him - but you took the brief chance you were offered to study him. Tall, lithe, muscular; he looked every bit the fearsome dragon rider and well-trained swordsman. Pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, a curtain that cast shadows over the sharp features of his face, but you could clearly see the intrigue in his eye as you lifted your hand to gently cradle his jaw.

Had you not been studying him so closely, so desperate to see some glimpse of warmth beneath the cool surface of your new husband, you might’ve missed his sharp inhale or the way his eye narrowed. Had you not been so enthralled by his appearance, you might’ve missed the way he swallowed or the split second he allowed himself to lean into your careful touch before the impassive mask returned.

Friends, some long married with babes while others had just wed, whispered and giggled when they shared what you could expect. Most of your friends lamented the act itself, thankful only that it often seemed to be over quickly, as many of their husbands were older lords in need of young wives to produce heirs. It seemed that few cared much at all about their wives’ pleasure and you’d wondered throughout your courtship if Aemond - though young, a man of your own age - might prove similar.

Now that the time had come to find out, you still felt wholly uncertain.

For a long moment, Aemond simply studied you. The deep lilac of his eye traced your face, shadowed by his hair and framed by your own locks - now free from the style your handmaids worked so hard to perfect - and his lips parted. He seemed poised to speak, though before he could, the sound of fists pounding the wood of the door broke whatever spell existed in the solace of the room.

Loud jeers from a drunken crowd reminded you both of your purpose, the reason you had been stripped bare for half the kingdom to see, and Aemond was the first to act.

Though you hoped for little and expected even less, Aemond wanted nothing more than to prove everyone wrong. He wanted to prove that he could be a husband, an adequate lover, a man who had everything and more. You had no way of knowing his motivation, not then, but you could see the flame in his eye as his hand fell to your hip.

With the hand still cradling his jaw, you managed to hold him in place as you leaned up and pressed your mouth to his. Since speaking your vows earlier in the night, you’d managed to steal two chaste kisses from your new husband - one just after the ceremony, in the few seconds you had alone before the feast began; the other, tucked in a corner before you were whisked away for the bedding. He responded well to both, stepping just an inch closer and allowing his lips to linger for a long moment, and you were pleased to find that he responded just as well to this kiss.

The ladies at court often lamented their husbands’ lack of skill or desire to share a kiss. They all sighed and confessed that the men found no use for it, no fun in it. It made you wonder if Aemond was humoring you, allowing you the kiss that seemed almost tender in nature, in return for your maidenhead - for your hand, your house’s newly pledged loyalty - but you knew well enough that your new husband was not one to indulge in anything he did not want to.

Hope bloomed, then, just beneath your ribcage that he might, someday, even grow to enjoy it as much as you suddenly found that you did.

Calloused hands began to explore your skin, touch light for a fleeting moment - almost reverent, almost tentative - before it grew steadier, more certain. The tips of his fingers left a path of fire in their wake, his skin always running hotter than anyone you’d ever met, and you nearly expected to find a visible path seared over the expanse of your torso as his hands dipped to your thighs.

As of yet there had been little outward sign of affection from your husband - everything felt like a courtesy, the actions of a well-educated prince, chivalrous out of duty only - and you knew that it might be wishful thinking to believe the slow drag of your husband’s hand up your inner thigh was anything more than slight trepidation. But you swore you could see the anger that burned so bright only moments ago morph into something closer to lust, desire, need.

Aemond’s fingers pressed firm into the plush of your thighs as he parted them and you bit the inside of your cheek to smother your gasp as his sharp gaze finally raked over your bare skin.

For all the wandering eyes, the lustful gazes that burned into your skin as so many lords of the realm crowded into the small room, it struck you in that moment that Aemond waited until you were alone to truly look. He waited until you were pliant beneath him, until you’d sated your own curiosity about him, to allow himself a glance at anything other than your face.

And despite the insistent jeers of the crowd beyond the door, he seemed determined to take you as he wished.

“They are expecting to hear us,” he reminded you as his fingers drew closer to your center. “Do not deprive us all of your charming voice.”

A handful of compliments had been levied at you from your new husband - more in regard to your intelligence than your most beautiful gowns, though one had ended with him calling you beautiful - but you still felt your cheeks heat as his fingers grazed your slit.

The swipe of his fingers was almost clumsy, less self-assured than he always seemed to be, but the thought gave you some comfort. Neither of you could disappoint the other if you were on somewhat equal footing.

Aemond’s touch grew more insistent, more assured, from the moment his fingers grazed the small bundle of nerves that wrenched a gasp from your throat and had your nails pressing into the muscle of his shoulders. He focused there, thumb circling the now aching pearl, as his fingers gathered the increasing slick. The deep lilac of his eye had almost vanished, replaced nearly entirely by lust-blown black, but it remained on your face - watching intently with every noise that spilled from your lips.

As desperately as you wanted to close your eyes, to hide from the intensity in his gaze, you found yourself unable to look away from his face. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the barely there flush that set high upon his cheeks; he was beautiful, regal, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Gevi,” you breathed, hoping the word sounded as effortless falling from your own lips as it did from his. Your thumb brushed his cheek, just beneath his scar, and you could see the flash of an emotion you could not recognize in his eye.

For a moment, he remained silent, fingers slowing to a barely there press, before he tipped his head. Your hand slipped, fell to his jaw, and you realized it was calculated - purposeful - even as his gaze softened. “My clever wife,” he hummed, matter-of-factly, as the corner of his mouth lifted in something akin to a smile. “Full of surprises.”

A response formed on the tip of your tongue, nowhere near as witty as you hoped for, but the press of Aemond’s fingers into your core stole your breath and all coherent thought. The sensation was odd, unlike any you’d ever experienced, and you could feel your brows furrow as your body attempted to make sense of what was happening. It was not as unpleasant as you expected, nor as pleasurable as you hoped for, but you imagined that both would come in time.

Despite his appearance, his brusque manner, Aemond was not harsh. His touch was no longer soft, no longer tentative, and you could still feel the weight of his hands on your thighs despite his touch having moved, but he seemed to take note of the way you winced when his fingers began to press a little too quickly - a little too hard - and adjusted accordingly.

Soon enough, you found a delicate rhythm - an insistent press of his fingers, an exploration unlike any you’d ever felt, as you used the grip on his jaw to pull him into another kiss.

This kiss was different, heavier. It was hungry, a clash of teeth and tongue and noses that made the backs of your eyes sting. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a bite harsh enough to draw blood, and you inhaled sharply as he lapped at the copper staining your lips.

The copper tang seemed to spur Aemond on, remind him of his duty and the audience waiting for it to be done. He moved with a renewed vigor, with a confidence you’d quickly come to associate with him. His fingers pressed deeper, searching, and he only seemed content when you broke the kiss to fill the room with a breathless moan of his name.

Warmth spread over your skin, a combination of his body heat surrounding you and your own pleasure coursing through your veins. Every swipe of his fingers, every circle of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, made the edges of your vision white and the air harder to obtain.

It was then, as your stomach tied itself into knots and your nails sank into the toned skin of his back - his shoulders, his chest, his arms; wherever you could reach, desperate for some tether to reality - that he replaced his fingers with the filling warmth of his cock.

With every noise that fell from your lips, the noise outside the door grew louder. It felt as if the whole of the realm waited just beyond the wood, ears pressed to the door, and Aemond seemed acutely aware of your audience. Gone were the tentative touches, the firm but still careful brushes of his hands. After a few careful initial presses of his hips to yours, he began to sink into you in earnest.

A cry of his name rang through the room, fanning the flames of the fire outside, and your body seemed trapped in the path of the blaze.

Every word of gossip you’d heard from friends seemed true, impossibly, all at once. There was an ache between your thighs, a stinging pain that replaced the pleasant ache of desire, and a dull pinch at your hip as Aemond’s fingers pressed into your skin. The entire room was too hot, almost stifling, and the noise rang in your ears. The tawdry jokes and laughter in the hall, the rustle of linen, the lewd sound of Aemond’s cock pressing into your center, the keening of your moans, the huff of his breath; it was almost too much.

Each sensation that washed over you was distinct but beginning to muddle together.

Despite yourself, your best efforts to take the affection given to you by your husband and appreciate them, you found yourself hoping for something softer, something easier, something better.

Aemond was lost in that moment, stuck somewhere in the back of his own mind, and you could only whisper his name in hopes that he might allow you a moment to catch your breath.

“Aemond, I - please.” The whispered plea, gasped into the night air and barely audible over the cheers still echoing in the hall, seemed to break his reverie. It returned him to the moment at hand - the pinch of your brows as the ache between your thighs plagued you, the curve of your mouth as you fought to keep your composure, the sting of your nails biting into his shoulder - and gave him pause.

The snap of his hips faltered, slowed from the near manic thrusts to something more even, and you eased the grip on his shoulder as you inhaled eagerly.

That deep purple gaze swept across your face, searching for something you could not readily provide, before he squeezed your hip in what you chose to interpret as an apology. You accepted it, easily, and offered him a tentative smile as he continued pressing forward - still firm, still deep, only slower now.

Giggles from the past, old whispers that there was real pleasure to be found in bed, began to return to the forefront of your mind as Aemond’s new pace began to replace the pinch and ache between your thighs with that devastating warmth you’d only just experienced. Everything felt too hot, too bright, too much, and the thought must have been clearly written across your face as Aemond hummed.

“Take your pleasure,” he encouraged, voice low in your ear as he leaned in close. “Then, I shall have mine.”

Warmth continued to flood your veins. Fire lapped at your skin, consuming you entirely, and you took no notice of the noise that escaped your parted lips as you allowed Aemond to continue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The end was as beautiful as you’d heard, as blissful, and you could feel yourself melting into the plush of the bed as goosebumps erupted across your skin and your heart thundered in your chest. All that mattered in that moment was Aemond; the weight of him atop you, the warmth of his skin as he pressed himself impossibly closer, the low rasp of his voice as he all but whispered expletives.

That pleasure was only heightened by the warmth that flooded you as Aemond stilled atop you, a curse on his lips and head thrown back.

It was a beautiful sight - something worthy of committing to memory, something so beautiful you only hoped to see it again and again. And you only hoped your new husband felt the same as he tipped his head to study you once more.

Aemond lingered only for a moment, his gaze softer than you’d seen directed at you, before he pulled away. Another squeeze to your waist was the only affection he spared before he stood and pulled the white line from his bed. He shifted you carefully - almost tenderly - to remove the fabric then strode across the expanse of the room to the door.

Without ceremony, he wrenched it open and tossed the stained fabric into the crowd.

A loud cheer echoed through the halls, drunken revelers delighting in the evidence of your consummation, but was quickly cut off with the slam of the heavy door.

The crowd grew quieter, noise drifting back in the direction of the hall still filled with older revelers - opting to spend their time discussing matters best saved for an in-person meeting - and you took the brief moment to catch your breath as Aemond did the same.

For just a moment, he lingered near the small table that held a pitcher and glasses, before filling them with wine and bringing them to bed. He handed you one, nodded his acknowledgement to your thanks, and settled back onto the plush fabric at your side.

Silence fell over the room then, a welcome but almost overwhelming lack of sound after hours surrounded by a cacophony of noise. For the first time since you woke that morning, you found that you could hear yourself think.

Every thought centered upon your new husband.

Aemond Targaryen was a mystery. Rumors about him swirled through the realm and whispers abounded at court. None seemed to be in agreement, however.

Some thought him to be fierce, a fearsome warrior who would make a fine knight should he find himself so inclined. Others insisted that Vhagar was his only asset and that he was nothing more than a loyal hound devoted to his family. Others still insisted that the only person Aemond could ever be loyal to was himself and his own interests.

There were whispers that he was cold, unfeeling. There were rumors that he had no interest in anything other than books, that living people meant little to him. But you were beginning to see the truth.

Try as he might to hide it, the nature of his soul that he buried so deeply, you were beginning to see him for who he truly was.

Aemond wanted the things he’d never been given. He sought reassurance, comfort, love. He wanted to be wanted - truly wanted, desired; not needed because he possessed the largest, oldest dragon. And though your match began as a political alliance, you hoped to prove that he was worthy of his desires as you shifted closer and reached for his hand.

“Aemond,” you began, voice quiet as you hoped desperately he would not push you away, even as he tensed. To your relief - and surprise - he did not. Instead, he simply glanced at your linked hands before turning his full attention to your face. “Believe what you wish, but I am glad that it is you I married. I do not want Aegon or any of the other lords lingering about the castle. I did not accept this betrothal without thought and I hope that you will believe me when I say there is no other I could want.”

Though it was slight, you could see the raise of his eyebrow. So, with a sigh, you placed your cup onto the table and grasped his hand with both of your own.

“When my father made it known that he intended to offer you my hand, I was given more attention at court than I ever wanted. I never cared much for it all, but suddenly, it seemed as if everyone wanted me to join them.” With a weary sigh, you began to trace nonsensical patterns over the back of his hand. “Everyone had a tale of Prince Aemond they wished to share. Some heard word from a brother or cousin, others whispered tales from their own trips to the Red Keep. I heard so many whispers about you that I began to lose track of who whispered what. I have always held whispers in little regard but it grew so frequent that I nearly worried I might meet a monster.”

The moment you paused, Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “Targaryen’s are said to be closer to gods than men. Perhaps monsters are included.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, pausing your tracing to glance up at him from beneath your lashes. The deep lilac of his eye met yours and you felt your cheeks heat. “But you are no monster. You are just a man. I was given the chance to reject our union. One word, and I would’ve been spirited away to some lesser lord. But I chose to stay.”

“Why?”

It was a genuine question, accompanied by a look you recognized as being tinged with skepticism. In response, you smiled at him.

“Despite your flaws, real or imagined or embellished, I find myself drawn to you. You have the beauty and fire of your house. You are proud, but not a braggart, quiet but not without charm. You are a noted swordsman and a dragon rider, yet you take no pleasure in tourneys. You are young and capable, intelligent and thoughtful. Of all the qualities one could want in a husband, you possess most."

This earnest admission was met with yet another hum of acknowledgement from your husband, a thoughtful rumination as he allowed the compliment to linger for a moment. Only then, after seeming to savor your words, did he ask, “Which qualities do I lack, wife?”

Had you not grown so accustomed to studying every twitch of his brows, every curve of his mouth, you might’ve missed the hint of a smile he wore. It was a question asked in jest, teasing, and you allowed yourself a laugh.

“Time shall tell,” you assured him, returning his barely-there smile with a soft one of your own. “Though, I would never dare call you perfect, lest your head swell to the size of Vhagar’s.” Aemond allowed you a glimpse of a true smile then, fleeting, but you savored the sight just the same. It brought a strange warmth to your chest, wound the hope that bloomed beneath your ribcage into a tendril that squeezed your heart, and you offered his hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand why we were wed. But I have hope that even if we do not find love in one another, we shall find friendship at the least.”

“You would not ask for more?”

“Men’s battles are fought in fields, at sea, on dragon back,” you answered, carefully turning his hand in yours to trace his palm. “A woman’s battle is fought abed. If I were to die there, my only hope is that it would be for someone I cared for, someone who cared for me.”

That lilac eye studied your face once more, more intently, and you could see the weight of your words settling on his shoulders as he realized that he was no longer alone, nor did you have any misunderstandings as to what this life meant for you both. Though he was the spare, pushed down in the line of succession by his brother’s children, he was expected to have a family and in return for giving him heirs, all you asked of him was companionship.

“I believe you shall be a fierce warrior,” he declared, gaze dipping to your fingers gently sweeping across his heated skin.

“And I believe you are all I could have hoped for in a husband,” you confessed, hoping he might agree - that he might declare you to be all he could’ve hoped for in a wife.

And though he seemed unopposed to you, he instead asked, “Do you believe that truly?”

“I do,” you confirmed, pausing your tracing to meet his eye. “I’ve long been afraid of marriage, of becoming trapped with someone who cared little for me, but I am more afraid that growing to love you will be easier than I ever imagined.”

“Love makes you weak,” he all but whispered, though the words held little conviction and even less weight. They were the words of someone afraid, someone unused to love and affection, and you met them with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps it is a good thing we are married, then. I believe love makes you stronger. My father loved my mother and he fought like hell to return to her each and every battle he waged. Love provides motivation,” you offered, only to be met with another thoughtful hum. Rather than pressing, you shifted the conversation after a moment of silence. “Why did you allow the bedding ceremony?”

Aemond paused for a moment and seemed to consider his answer. “I had every intention of forgoing it,” he confessed, free hand tracing the lip of his glass. “Then, we met and it was selfish, I suppose. I have something most men in King’s Landing will covet - a comely wife from a noble house who has made me the sole object of her affection. Allowing the ceremony provided an opportunity to boast, to show that while they may look, you are mine. No other will know the pleasure of your company.”

The reasoning behind his allowance was understandable, even more so when you considered that he was the second son of a man who scarcely remembered his sons in the first place. It was not often he was given something others desired, not often he could be envied, and you could not begrudge him the opportunity he’d taken.

“I am yours,” you agreed, lifting his hand to place it over your heart. “While I believe love will make us stronger, I would not mind being seen as weak, just so long as you are by my side. Others may whisper or believe what they wish but know, lord husband, that I want you and you alone. I look forward to the future and hope the gods bless us with a long and happy marriage.”

“I shall leave faith to you,” he declared, though the words were softer than you believed he intended. “But I have little doubt that you will be left wanting.” Aemond turned, then, and removed the eyepatch covering his eye. The sapphire glimmered in the dim candlelight and you squeezed his hand to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

“Gevi,” you repeated, smiling upon the full face of your new husband.

Aemond’s mouth curved once more, a touch more noticeable, before he sighed and shifted to lie amongst the pillows. “Sleep, dear wife,” he encouraged, pulling you into the pillows at his side.

With the morning sun, your new life would begin. As tentative as you’d once been, you no longer felt any fear. There was far to travel, much to be gained in the way of your new husband’s trust, but you imagined he was right; neither of you would be left wanting, so long as you had the other.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: It's my first time writing for Aemond (or anything GoT/HotD related) so I hope it's alright. I didn't want to go too soft but I also didn't want to go too mean/cold? I dunno. Let me know what you think! :)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd smut #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond oneshot #v's fics #hotd imagine

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cowboybeepboop · 1 month ago

Text

Perfection

"I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: You’re Sergei’s closest (and only) friend, one night things become more than just friendly.

a/n: as always send any request you have my way! I’ll get to them asap

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the foliage above, you felt an eerie presence nearby. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a flicker of movement among the trees. It was Sergei, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

You'd found him in this very forest when he had first left home, and now, years later, he remained a silent guardian.

Sergei stood amidst the shadows of the forest, his form blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage. His gaze lingered on you, studying your every detail. The familiar scent of the forest and your presence filled his senses, stirring a mix of nostalgia and concern within him.

"You've been here a while," he observed, his voice a low rumble. "Looking for something?"

"Just watching," you murmur, standing as he approaches your side. you brush your hands over your jeans, grinning as you look up at him.

Sergei, towering above you, stands close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes study your every movement, taking in the way your hands brush over your jeans. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Watching, eh?" he remarks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate through the forest around you. "Find anything interesting?"

"Not particularly, well at least not before you showed up," you observe his strong features in the sunlight, hands aching to touch him.

Sergei's smirk widens as he notices the way your eyes roam over his features, taking in the play of sunlight on his chiseled face. He can feel the subtle tension rising between you, a familiar pull that has always been there.

"Is that right?" he responds in a low, amused tone. "So, I'm more interesting than the scenery then?"

"But of course," you glance around, "the forest doesn't exactly talk back, does it?"

Sergei's lips quirk into a crooked smile as he considers your retort. His eyes follow the movement of your gaze, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

"True, the forest is a silent spectator." he muses, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But I happen to be a little more engaging than a few trees and squirrels."

Then, his tone shifts slightly, a touch more commanding yet laced with an underlying softness. "You should join me for dinner. It's late, and I doubt you've eaten anything substantial."

"What's on the menu?" you grin, linking your arm with his as he begins to guide you to his home.

As you link your arm with his, Sergei lets out a chuckle at your question. It was never a struggle to get you to come along when food was involved.

"Nothing fancy, just a simple meal," he replies, his hand instinctively resting on top of yours as he guides you through the trail he and his family had made years before. "Some stew from a rabbit I caught earlier, fresh bread, and maybe a few berries if I can find any."

"Sounds perfect, Sergei." you lean your head against his shoulder, enjoying the heat that's radiating off of him.

As your head rests on his shoulder, Sergei glances down at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. The familiarity of your touch and the way you lean into him stirs emotions within him. He'd always been protective of you, seeing you as someone he needed to keep safe.

He continues to guide you along the path, the sound of nocturnal creatures filling the night air. "You're quiet tonight," he notes, his voice gentle. "Everything alright?"

Your eyes widen as he catches on to your distracted mind, thoughts filled with the idea of being in his home and surrounded by his scent rather than making conversations. "Of course..." you murmur, "Just a little.. preoccupied." you grin up at him

Sergei narrows his eyes slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity in his gaze. Your vague answer and the hint of a grin on your face pique his interest, making him even more curious.

"Preoccupied, hm?" he muses, a hint of humor in his voice. "With what exactly?" His arm tightens its hold on you, pulling you closer as if to physically keep you from drifting away in thought.

"That's a secret," you retort, eyes glued on the building ahead of the both of you, Sergei finally guiding you inside his home.

Sergei's smirk only widens at your response, your words fueling the curiosity further. He watches the way your eyes dart towards his home, knowing exactly what you're thinking. With a slight chuckle, he leads you inside.

The interior is cozy and warm, lit by a few oil lamps that cast a soft, flickering glow over the room. The scent of woodsmoke and herbs fills the air. Sergei closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

"A secret, huh?" he muses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you've got me genuinely intrigued."

You take a seat on the couch, relaxing into the plush fabric. "I'll tell you after dinner, I'm too hungry to wait." you pull a blanket over your body, instantly making yourself at home in the familiar environment.

Sergei watches as you settle into the couch, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Your ability to make yourself at home in his space doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds it almost endearing.

"Fair enough," he smirks, moving towards the small kitchenette area. "Dinner won't take too long. I promise I'll have you spilling your secrets soon enough." He grabs a few items from his cupboards and sets to work on preparing the meal.

"Take your time pretty boy," you murmur, eyes glued to his back as he moves around the kitchen.

Sergei's shoulders visibly tense for a moment as your voice drifts over to him, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your playful nickname causes a familiar heat to rise up within him, and he can feel your gaze on his back.

Without turning around, he responds in a low, teasing tone, "Careful, I might get used to the praise."

"Youre right, I cant inflate your ego too much." you giggle softly. He finally finishes the meal, bringing you a bowl of the stew.

Sergei carries the bowl of warm stew back to the living area, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he sets it down in front of you. He doesn't miss the way your eyes light up at the sight and smell of the food, and it only adds to his amusement.

"Here," he says, placing the bowl gently in your hands. "Be careful, it's still hot."

Once you have the bowl securely in your grasp, Sergei takes a step back, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He watches you closely, his gaze taking in every movement, as you bring the spoon to your lips and take a tentative taste of the stew.

"It's perfect Sergei, amazing." you hum in satisfaction, your eyes meeting his while you enjoy the meal he prepared.

Sergei's smirk blossoms into a satisfied smile as he watches you relish the meal. Hearing your genuine praise and seeing the contentment on your face brings a sense of satisfaction to him.

"Glad you like it," he replies, leaning back a bit as he observes you. His smirk morphs into a wry grin, and he adds, "I promise I didn't poison it."

"Well of course not, you can't go poisoning your only friend." the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you finish your meals. Once you place the empty bowl on the coffee table you feel the intense stare boring into the side of your head, Sergei watching your every move.

As you set your empty bowl aside, you can feel Sergei's intense gaze on you. His eyes meticulously watch you, cataloging every movement, every flicker of emotion that passes across your face. Being the center of his unblinking attention is a sensation that never fails to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. His voice is low, with a hint of huskiness in his tone. "So... about that little secret you've been holding onto..."

"Well, I was thinking.. about asking you if I could stay here for the night." you turn to him, expression pleading. "Look I know it's a little inconvenient-" he interrupts you.

Before you can finish your statement, Sergei cuts you off. You sense a hint of surprise mixed with something else in his expression, but it's quickly concealed behind his usual smirk.

He crosses his arms over his chest, a slightly challenging look in his eyes. "Let me get this straight," he says, his voice taking on a dry edge. "You want to... crash here for the night, no explanation?"

"Well I was going to explain but you interrupted.." you murmur, voice soft as your gaze falls to your hands. "It's just I really like spending time with you.."

Sergei's expression softens as he hears the note of disappointment in your voice. The hint of challenge in his eyes fades, replaced by a touch of guilt. He doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on your lowered hands.

After a moment, he sighs heavily, his voice holding a hint of resignation. "So, that's your big secret then? You just want more time with me?"

"Yes.." you whisper, silently cursing yourself for ever bringing it up. You always knew that your affections were one sided yet the confirmation of it hurts more than you were anticipating.

Sergei's eyes are unreadable as he absorbs your words, his expression neutral. A moment of silence follows, the only sound in the room the soft crackle of the fireplace. His gaze is fixed on you, studying your expression and the subtle change in your demeanor.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, a hint of sympathy lacing his words. "Is that the only reason? You just... want to be around me more?"

"I like your company, you're comfortable, *familiar*." you carefully gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes.

A muscle in Sergei's jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your big, pleading eyes meeting his. The sight stirs something within him, but he's not entirely sure what it is.

After a moment, he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of resignation and something else. "Fine," he mutters, looking away. "You can stay here whenever. But only on one condition."

"Anything you want." you smile, moving closer to him, your eyes filled with excitement.

Sergei notices the way you shift closer to him, the gleam of excitement in your eyes making it obvious how much you want to be close to him. He lets out a huff, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Anything, huh?" he muses, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, you're giving me free reign to make all sorts of demands now."

"You're free to make any demands, it is your house after all." you bring your hands to his knees, fingers gently digging into his clothed skin. "But what is your condition?"

As you place your hands on his knees and dig your fingers into his skin, Sergei can feel a slight shiver run down his spine. The mixture of surprise and a sudden flare of heat takes him momentarily off guard, and he has to force himself to focus on the conversation.

He takes a moment to reply, eyes flickering down to your fingers before fixing on your face again. "My condition..."

He pauses, swallowing back a sharp reply and instead opting for a straightforward request. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then where will I sleep?" your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you move closer.

Your closeness causes Sergei's breath to hitch ever so slightly, his eyes roaming over your face as you approach. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.

"You can take my bed," he says bluntly, his gaze not wavering from yours. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No," you begin to protest, "can we share the bed? I don't want to steal it from you..."

Sergei blinks, clearly not expecting your response. The idea of sharing his bed with you had never occurred to him before, but now that you've suggested it, he can't deny the spark of heat it ignites within him.

He clears his throat, trying to maintain his cool composure. "You... want to share the bed?" he repeats, his voice a touch huskier than usual.

"Yes.." you grin sweetly, "I'd love to." Sergei can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as you grin sweetly up at him, your eagerness obvious. The thought of sharing his bed with you - of having you that close to him for an entire night - is suddenly far more appealing than he wants to admit.

He swallows, trying to regain some sense of control. "Very well," he manages, his voice rough. "You can share the bed with me, then."

"Shall we head to bed then? It is getting a bit late.." you yawn quietly.

With your yawn catching his attention, Sergei glances at the nearby clock. It was indeed getting late. The thought of sharing a bed with you is still on his mind, but he has to admit, he's also feeling rather tired.

"Right." he agrees huskily. He stands from the couch, offering you a hand to help you up. "Let's get some sleep then."

"Lead the way, handsome." you follow close behind as he guides you into his bedroom.

As you follow behind him, your light footsteps echoing quietly against the wooden floorboards, Sergei leads you into his simple yet cozy bedroom. The space is just big enough for a queen-size bed and a small dresser, but it's kept tidy and neat.

He steps aside to allow you to enter first, gesturing towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmurs, his eyes on you the entire time.

"Thank you, Sergei." you silently creep into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before sliding out of your pants, folding and placing them on the nightstand. You're blissfully unaware of his tense gaze, watching as you pull your bra off from under your shirt, placing it off to the side.

Sergei stands in the doorway, watching every one of your movements with unblinking intensity. His eyes seem to follow your every gesture like a hawk tracking its prey. Your casual actions - stripping off your pants and then your bra - are like a slow, torturous reveal to him.

His jaw clenches, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure. He cannot deny the effect your presence in his space - in his *bed* \- is having on him.

With a final small stretch you slip beneath the covers, eyes wandering to look at him in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" you murmur, not wanting to steal his space from him.

Sergei's eyes remain glued to you as you slip beneath the covers, a mixture of desire and restraint clearly visible in his gaze. At your question, he snaps out of his trance, realizing he's just been standing there staring.

He clears his throat slightly, steeling himself before slowly approaching the bed and pulling back the covers on the other side. "Yeah. I'm coming in."

He slides into the bed beside you, trying to maintain a distance but finding himself drawn to your warmth.

"Good night Sergei.." you whisper in the silent and dark room, eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into the sheets. The sound of your soft voice whispering goodnight only serves to heighten his senses, the intimacy of the situation making it difficult for him to even breathe.

"Good night," he mutters in response, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment longer before he turns his gaze to the ceiling. It's going to be a long night.

As the minutes tick by, Sergei finds himself unable to sleep. Your body is a mere arm's length away from him, causing the most primal part of his brain to struggle against the temptation to pull you flush against him.

He tries to think of anything else - anything that could distract him from the overwhelming desire surging through him. Yet, no matter what he tries, his mind drifts back to you, lying so close but still just out of reach...

You shift in your sleep, soft incoherent murmurs slipping from your parted lips as you move closer to him, craving the heat of his body, the feel of his skin against yours.

As you shift closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth in your sleep, it takes every ounce of Sergei's willpower not to react. He feels the heat of your body as you press up against him, your murmurs sounding like a soft siren's song to his lust-fogged brain.

He grits his teeth, his muscles coiled tight as he struggles to resist the urge to pull you even closer. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath, his heartbeat increasing with every inch that separates your bodies.

Your bare leg wraps around his thigh as you pull yourself flush against him, your cheek pressing into his chest. You stir slightly, eyes fluttering open and blinking slowly.

You place your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his abs as you turn your head to look at him. Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you make eye contact with him, "Is everything alright?"

As you stir and awaken, the innocent brush of your fingers against his chest sets his nerve endings ablaze. His skin tingles wherever you touch, the feel of your bare leg wrapped around his sending a jolt of heat through him.

He meets your gaze, his own eyes dark with poorly concealed desire. "It's... fine," he manages to rasp out, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to your touch. "Just... can't sleep, that's all."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" your eyes lock with his, full of sleepy affection.

Your sleepy gaze, full of warmth and affection, only makes Sergei's self-control slip further. He swallows roughly, his hand itching to reach out and touch you, to pull you even closer to him.

"I... I don't... know..." he whispers hoarsely. His gaze drifts down to your parted lips, the temptation to lean in and claim them nearly overpowering. "You're making this very... *difficult* for me, you know." Your eyes widen as you realize his implication, your body tensing slightly.

Sergei can feel the tension in your body as you realize the meaning behind his words. He curses himself silently, hating the way your slight recoil makes him feel.

He loosens his grip on your hip, shifting to create a small gap between your bodies, his voice dropping to a more soothing tone. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... your presence here, in my bed... it's stirring up some unexpected... *desires*."

"Do you.. desire me?" your voice is a breathless whisper as you scan his features, your heart pounding rapidly inside you.

Your quiet question hangs in the air, and Sergei finds himself hesitating for a moment, the weight of his answer almost too much to bear. His gaze fixates on you, unflinching, as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip.

"Yes," he finally responds, his voice a rough, low rumble. "I do. More than you could possibly understand."

You take a shakey deep breath, gathering the confidence to make a move on this gentle giant. You slide the blankets off of your bodies, moving to straddle his hips, your eyes full of desire as you gaze down at him.

Sergei's eyes widen slightly as you remove the blankets and boldly straddle his hips, your unexpected move taking him off guard. The sight of you looming over him, your eyes full of desire, sends a sharp thrill of heat through his body and straight to his core.

His hands fly to your hips, gripping them with a possessive force. "What are you doing...?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with restrained desire.

"Sergei.. I want you." you press your palms to his chest, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his.

As you begin to rock your hips against his, Sergei feels a growl rumble in his chest, his fingers digging further into the flesh of your hips. The pressure builds between your bodies, the friction of your movements driving him wild.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them down on his chest as he looks up at you, his eyes full of a primal need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he hisses, his voice barely recognizable.

You continue to grind against him, soft unintelligible noises falling from your lips as you get lost in the feeling of his hardness pressed into your cunt.

With each movement of your hips, Sergei's control unravels further. The feel of your body, grinding against his hardness, sends a surge of raw need through him. He groans loudly, his grasp on your wrists tightening as he fights to maintain some semblance of restraint.

"Fuck... You... You're going to drive me insane," he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"

Sergei's eyes flare with a wild, almost desperate hunger as he watches you, his restrained power a stark contrast to your unbridled passion. He releases your wrists, allowing his hands to glide up your arms, feeling the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers. "If we do this..." he warns, his voice strained with need. "There's no going back." His words hang in the air, a silent question and a promise wrapped in one.

"I know.. know but I need you, Sergei please." you whine, lost in the intoxication of his body against yours.

Sergei's eyes darken further, the raw desire in them unmistakable. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, it seems like he's fighting an internal battle. Then, with a low growl, he surrenders to the need, his hands sliding up to cradle your face.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss that steals your breath away, his tongue demanding entry as your bodies become one in a tangle of heat and passion. The bed beneath you creaks as he rolls you over, his strong arms holding you firmly in place as his hips surge up to meet yours.

Breaking the kiss, Sergei's eyes never leaving yours, he reaches down to tug at the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over his head, revealing the defined planes of his chest and abs, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

His gaze is intense as he watches you, his movements deliberate as he undoes the button of his pants and slides them down, his erection springing free. Without breaking eye contact, his hands move to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt and lifting it up over your head.

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose your bare skin to the cool night air. The anticipation is palpable, his eyes never leaving yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down further, exposing your wet, eager cunt.

He groans low in his throat, the sight of your nakedness driving him closer to the edge. With one swift move, he rids himself of his own underwear, his cock bobbing heavily with desire. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers sliding through your slickness before he lines himself up, his tip brushing against your entrance.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice a harsh whisper, his eyes burning with need. At your nod, he pushes into you with a slow, agonizingly sweet motion, filling you completely as he buries himself to the hilt.

You nod, unable to find words as his cock slides into you with an agonizing slowness that makes you quiver with anticipation. Your eyes never leave his as he continues to fill you completely, stretching and claiming every inch of your body with a passionate dominance that sends shivers down your spine.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, his powerful strokes setting a rhythm that echoes through the quiet night. Each thrust is punctuated by a guttural groan, his eyes never leaving yours as you both get lost in the moment.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew from dinner. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the coolness of the sheets, creating a delicious friction that sends sparks of pleasure dancing across your skin.

As he moves within you, Sergei's eyes burn with an intensity that you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be. His every touch, every kiss feels like coming home, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly alive and desired.

With each powerful thrust, Sergei's control frays further, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. His hands grip your hips, guiding your body to meet his with a perfect rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moan his name, your nails digging into his back as your body arches off the bed, begging for more. The room is a symphony of your muffled cries and his feral grunts, the sound of flesh slapping together in an intimate dance. Your eyes are locked in a silent conversation of passion, the fire in his gaze igniting a fierce need within you.

You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him as the pressure builds. "Sergei, I'm... I'm going to cum," you gasp out, your body trembling.

He responds with a low growl, his strokes becoming faster, deeper, pushing you over the precipice until you shatter in his arms, your climax ripping through you like lightning in a summer storm. He follows close behind, his own release a powerful wave that crashes over both of you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets.

He falls to the bed next to you, satisfaction filling his body as you cuddle into his warmth. As you both lay there, the night's passion still lingering in the air, Sergei's thoughts whirl with conflicting emotions.

He can feel your gentle breath against his chest, the weight of your body against his own, and a sudden realization hits him like a punch in the gut. He can no longer deny the depth of what he feels for you.

The way he had just made love to you - as passionately, hungrily, almost desperately as he had - betrayed his true feelings. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as he tries to make sense of his thoughts.

"Sergei," you breathe out his name, your eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into him.

As you breathe out his name, Sergei's arms tighten around you instinctively. He feels a sudden wave of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce need to keep you safe and loved.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Yes, my darling?" he mutters into the darkness, his voice thick with an emotion he doesn't dare name.

"That.. that was good," you murmur sleepily, body slowly relaxing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he listens to your sleepy murmur. He can hear the contented exhaustion in your voice, the way your body is melting into his embrace. "Good, huh?" he replies, his tone soft and faintly teasing. "Just good?"

"Perfect." you correct yourself, causing a satisfied and cocky smirk to rest on his lips.

A cocky smirk forms on Sergei's lips as you correct yourself, his ego swelling at your praise. "Perfect, hm?" he repeats, his voice laced with self-satisfaction.

He leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

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majestyeverlasting · 5 days ago

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Hello there! :) If I may, I’d like to request a Joel miller x reader ⇩

something where the reader is experiencing a migraine (headache + nausea and all that) and Joel tries calling her all day while he’s out and when he gets home he finds her asleep in pitch black room and realises what’s wrong, but knows exactly how to comfort his girl? 🥰

*im sorryyy if that’s long or weirdly specific it’s just something I’ve been struggling with lately and I need some comfort about it don’t mind me😻)*

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary Joel comes home to find that you’re suffering from a migraine in bed. Luckily, he’s helped you through this once or twice. [no outbreak, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.8k].

A/N Thanks for this request! I promise it's not weird at all. In my head, this is Joel and reader from here with you.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Joel (8:57 AM) Sorry I missed you this morning, didn’t wanna wake you. Have a good day. -J

Joel (11:02 AM) Checking in. You up and at em yet?

Joel (2:34 PM) Everything okay? Call you in a bit. -J

Still nothing from you. Joel locks his phone and rests his forearms on his legs.

Today is the warmest day all week. Getting to ditch the extra layer is nice. Tommy shields his eyes from the sun as he exits a prim house with a spotless driveway and plush lawn. Beside it is another perfect lot, and another, and another, arranged around the whole cul-de-sac. He and Joel had been contracted to do a kitchen upgrade for the new homeowners and were in the process of working through the finishing touches.

From his seated position on the curb, Joel looks over his shoulder as footsteps approach. Tommy draws his leg back like he plans to kick him, and snickers when he leans out the way.

“Watch yourself,” Joel warns.

“Or what?” A smirk pulls at Tommy’s lips. “I’ll lay your old ass out on this asphalt.”

Joel shakes his head as Tommy sits down beside him with a grunt. A comfortable silence settles between them, and Joel fights the urge to check his phone even though it hasn’t buzzed. Tommy notices the slight tension in his shoulders but chalks it up to wanting to be done for the day. After the owners did their final walkthrough tomorrow, a three-day weekend awaited.

A cool breeze rolls through as Tommy stretches his legs out in front of himself, his jeans peppered with dust and dried specks of white paint. When he takes a swig from the bottle he walked outside with, Joel’s squints at the label, his interest piqued.

“Kombucha?” he says with furrowed brows.

Tommy nods as he swallows. “Sarah put me on,” he says after wiping his mouth. “Helps with your gut. Something like that.”

“A few crunches should do the trick,” Joel mutters.

Tommy snorts and elbows him. “Right back at you, smartass.” Joel huffs a breath at that. “Hey, what do you think about going fishing this weekend—Saturday maybe?”

When his brother doesn’t respond, he knocks his knee against his. “Anybody home?”

Joel straightens up in hopes of making his anxiety less evident. Except, he wears it like a second skin. To deny it would be to deny himself.

“What time you think we’ll be done today?” The break they carved out just started, but it’s his roundabout way of suggesting they get back to work. There wasn’t too much left to do if they locked in—some additional caulking, sealing, and polishing.

Tommy shakes his head as he calculates. “Three-thirty, four?” Then he narrows his eyes at Joel. “You’ve been sitting funny since I walked out here…”

Joel’s chest puffs with a sigh as he unlocks his phone. The text thread between the two of you is already pulled up, and all three of his messages to you are unanswered. Tommy leans closer to read them and bites his lower lip as the gears start turning in his head.

He decides to draw a little levity in, “You piss her off?” There’s a teasing undertone to his question.

“Don't think so,” Joel says as he shifts. “Gonna give her a call.”

Tommy nods and claps him on the back. “We can get back to work after.”

He heads back inside to give his brother some privacy.

When you don’t answer the phone, Joel leaves a message anyway.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t been able to get through to you, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Four-thirty at the latest…” he pauses to bite his lower lip. “Call me if you get this before I’m there. Love you.”

•••

It’s quiet when he arrives home. Virtually undisturbed. The pillows on the couch are positioned in the exact way they’d been left after last night’s impromptu movie night. The TV remote is in the same place on the coffee table as well. There’s nothing that suggests you’ve been stirring around at all. He walks deeper into the house to find that the kitchen and sunroom are empty too. The late afternoon sun pools in through the window.

When he makes it back around to the staircase, he jogs to the top. The wood creaks beneath his steps.

“Sweetheart?” he calls out. “I’m home. You up here?”

His voice carries to where you’re tucked in bed, but you can’t bring yourself to answer back. Not loud enough for him to hear you, at least. The ache that once pulsed throughout your head has steadied to the point where you don’t want to risk overexerting yourself and tumbling back to square one. Joel would find you anyway. He always did. And he never viewed you or your pain as a burden. He knew how to cradle both, how to ease them without second thought.

Light pours into the bedroom as the door opens slowly. You can make out the outline of his tall, broad frame, and hear the soft sound of his socks against the hardwood as he pads to you in the dark. Thanks to the blackout curtains, there’s hardly any light entering in. Only the smallest slivers.

After his eyes adjust, he can begin to make out the shapes around the room. The red glow of the alarm clock allows him to see your face, your slow-blinking eyes.

Without uttering a word, he gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then moves it down to rest against your warm cheek. You press into his touch just slightly, and it tugs something awful at his chest. Makes him wish he could bear your pain.

“Migraine,” you murmur.

An apologetic hum vibrates through his chest. “You been like this all day?” he asks softly.

“Got bad at noon.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You weakly reach out for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s much larger than yours, rugged and calloused, but you’d hold on forever if you could. If he’d let you. With his free hand, he picks up the tumbler bottle on the nightstand to find that it’s light.

“I’m gonna go get you some more water. It’s probably time for some more Advil too.”

The weight of his attentiveness makes you nod like you’re surrendering. And maybe you are giving something up—the burden of the day. Of having to do everything on your own. His fingers tighten around yours in a final squeeze before he lets go.

You shouldn’t miss him in the short time that he’s gone, but you do. It’s the same tug that lingered in your chest all day, but is kinder now that he’s home. Not miles away out of reach. When he comes back, it’s with more than he initially set out for, all of it somehow balanced in his hold. He quietly sets it all on the nightstand.

“You can turn the little lamp on,” you murmur. There was a battery-powered ambient lamp alongside the larger one.

“I’m aces, honey,” he assures. “You wanna sit up for a second, I got your medicine right here.”

You prop yourself up on your forearm and gratefully take it from him. He holds your tumbler to your lips so you can reach the straw to wash it down.

“There ya go,” he praises as you settle back down. “Got a cold pack and some grapes too. Get a little something on your stomach before I get dinner worked out later…” He talks, almost absentmindedly, as he continues to get you situated. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s a routine he’s coaxed you through more times than he’d like.

A long hum rises in your throat as he positions the cold pack on the back of your neck. A stark but pleasant chill ripples through your overheated body like slow melting ice. All you can muster is another grateful hum as he sets the small bowl of grapes on the mattress beside you. There’s a crisp, sweet pop as you usher one into your mouth.

“Gonna go grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he adds lightly.

A small smile pulls at your lips.

•••

An hour. That’s how much later you wake up in his arms with his lips at your shoulder, his strong arm draped around your waist to keep you close. There’d hardly been any words exchanged between you in the moments before then, only confirmations of each other’s comfort and whispered I love you’s. You’d dozed off a couple of times since noon, but nothing comparable to the steady rest that came along with his proximity.

He doesn't realize you’re awake until you shift and reach toward the nightstand. The light of the ambient lamp soon illuminates the room, joined by the glow of your phone a moment later. Joel takes it as a sign you’re feeling better than he found you, and that’s more than enough. The gentle, repetitive tap of your thumb against the screen lets him know you’re going through old notifications.

His hand finds your hip beneath the sheets, where he draws slow, small circles with his thumb. It isn’t long before you lock the device and set it back down.

The sheets rustle as you turn around to face him. Sleep’s haze lingers between you as you trail your fingertips along his jaw in a featherlight brush. The scratch of his beard feels nice, and you continue the motion until you’re unable to stop the fond chuckle that shakes your chest. It’s no more than a quick breath, but Joel smiles shyly anyway.

“What?” he asks, voice a little gruff.

“J,” you murmur with a teasing lilt. “You don’t need to sign your texts. I know already it’s you.” You poke an affectionate finger into his stomach.

His smile grows as he offers a helpless shrug, warmth in his dark eyes. It’s impossible to fight the urge to scoot closer and press the briefest, softest kiss to his lips. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Tommy had me thinking I might’ve done something to upset you,” he says as he brushes a knuckle across your cheek.

“I’d never ignore you like that.”

Joel knows that, but says, “Except for that one time.”

You frown in confusion, but your mouth falls open in amusement when you realize what he means. “That was a million years ago, and it lasted five minutes—not even that.”

Joel chuckles, and when it triggers you to join him in laughing, you realize that’s all he sought to gain by bringing it up.

“Clearly it left a mark.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the heel of your palm. A smile lingers on his lips as you laugh again.

He then studies your eyes, your nose, your lips. He loves you so much he sometimes wonders how he’s been able to manage it without bursting at the seams.

“You feelin’ a bit better?” he asks after a few quiet beats.

“Much,” you promise.

He kisses your palm again. This time he lets his lips linger.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all!

more of this couple -> here with you

JOEL MASTERLIST

GENERAL MASTERLIST

#joel miler #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou hbo

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