#still deeply appreciated tho! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoxo-surfergirl · 7 days ago

Text

dawn of winter

aemond targaryen x fem!stark!reader

abstract: just moons ago, the realm was at peace and you were stealing kisses with aemond in the red keep. now, the dance of the dragons has begun, aemond has arrived at winterfell knowing your brother would bend to rhaenyra, and nothing feels certain. themes: winter vibes, lovers to enemies to lovers, light smut, romance, angst (because they enemies!), forbidden romance if you squint, hand stuff, you are lady stark, aemond goes for what he wants, the northman not being happy abt it

lucy's notes: ao3 link. just a little something for the new year :) the north is cold and that is my holiday connection 😤 (that's what i'm telling myself because I really wanted to write SOMETHING for this time of year but didn't fully know what). jacaerys did not leave for his mission quick enough and aemond beat him to winterfell 🫢 cregan still hates him tho. and since aemond didn't go to the stormlands lucerys lives too. this will probably be a one shot, though I started a short epilogue which might be posted. it's just an excuse for romance and vibes. i hope you enjoy this story! any interaction is deeply appreciated <3

word count: 7.2k

What little sun there was fettered a white glow in the ever-churning snowfall. The winds of winter had begun their journey south from beyond the wall just a few moons ago, but their strength had built furiously since then. The treetops hadn’t seen a pale morning’s dawn in over three moons, and the wolf’s choir had grown in numbers near Moat Cailin. The elders of Wintertown had spoken of a harsh winter then, noting the heavy fog in late summer, thicker tails on the burrow rats, and tougher skins on the onions.

It had certainly come. The storm that had hung low over Winterfell, carrying all the way from Castle Cerwyn to Deepwood Motte, had settled thick winds and heavy snows on every stone, tree, and fort. And to mark the special occasion, the Great Hall of the castle would be set alight for winterfest.

All families of bannermen were being called to share in the centuries honored tradition of hosting a great feast and celebration in honor of the coming snows. And, as happenstance may have it, there was urgency to discuss the matter of succession in the south.

As if the usurpation of your Queen wasn’t enough, unexpected guests had descended upon Winterfell. One of which had bronze wings as wide as a small keep, and another bearing a halo of Targaryen silver hair.

Upon your return home, you had dreamed of a moment like this: Vhagar bared in the snow, each frozen flake blistering against her scaled skin. A mountain of her own, even the closest ground to her steaming from her eternal heat.

But things were not as they were those moons ago, hands and touch lingering under the beat of the southern sun. The water there had been warm enough to swim in, ankles brushing against the lapping tongues of the break and toes worming through the sand. There was no snow, and the realm was united.

The men had armed themselves at the sight of her shadow, hands gripping their weapons tight. Movement in the castle was always a flurry of feet, but now all were either frozen or frenzied at the arrival. All the feelings of summer pooled in your belly, the taint of winter now upon them. Shouts of men filled the battlements, calling for the warden of the north to meet the crown prince of the realm, the unspoken part following in silence: brother to the usurper. Your belly sank, dragging your heart with it.

Any pleasant thoughts of Aemond’s arrival had long faded the moment a raven had arrived from White Harbor. Things were different now. Vhagar’s proximity to the gates of the castle had to be an intentional act of dominance, her wings spread to their fullest length in a show of size and prowess. The thought certainly soured things more than they already were.

Men in heavy blue wools and leathers ran past you, gathering at all posts. Servants gathered the young children and corralled them inside. Your feet caught on the ground, unsure whether you should run or join the entourage gathering to meet him. Watching from above, you could see the doormen heeding orders to open the gates to the castle, hesitation in their every crank of the pulley for what awaited them on the other side. As the gate lifted, so did what felt like your last defenses, no matter how meager they felt against a dragon.

The Umbers and Flints flanked your brother on their exit from the Great Keep, and you knew you must act now. It calmed you to watch them: each northman walked with pride, furs sitting as a second skin against their long dark hair. It was a show of strength you needed, though you were sure you were not alone.

Your boots clicked in a scurry down the steps of the battlements, pushing hurriedly past any servant or workman that stood in your way. Ultimately, you decided that if Aemond did have any care left for you, your presence might de-escalate any arising tension. By the time you had entered the courtyard, the east gate had opened and Aemond stood as one against many in greeting.

A black fur sat wide on his shoulders, but the large cloak that fell beneath it hardly concealed the hilt of the swords he carried at each hip. He looked every bit as lethal as his dragon’s head rearing over the gates. Your heart ached against your rational judgement at the sight of him, and you slowed your movements.

A figure made in the image of Gods, you were sure of it. Imagining his silver hair and sharpness in your mind’s eye did no service to the beacon of beauty he was in the flesh. For a moment, it was summer again, and your stomach bubbled in cheerful anticipation and not caution.

Tentatively, you emerged from behind your brother’s side, snow crunching lightly beneath your boots. The moment he noticed you, the air turned warmer.

“My Lady Stark,” he bowed to you, his eye fixed loyally to yours.

It was beneath him to honor you with a bow. Your belly twinged at the thought of him being so brazen, and the eyes that gazed upon you with a new peculiar interest.

The formalities felt foreign and out of place, but arising more suspicion with familiarities felt worse. “Prince Aemond, I welcome you to my home.”

Before another word could be spoken, Cregan placed a firm hand on the back of your shoulder. “The prince is here to talk over some official matters. Come, let us get warm inside.”

Introductions were passed away from you, Cregan continuing his tight lead on your shoulder.

Northern furs suit him quite well, you thought.

—

The sun had long descended over the hills, the icy night’s breath beyond the wall welcoming anyone who stepped outside. The Great Hall was adorned in pine wreaths and winter berries, and cedar cones and noble fir dressing for the festivities. Candle holders layered upon another to flay light across the walls, the wax of days upon moons dripping down the sides of the holders like heavy icing on cakes.

It felt like ages since all of the Stark bannermen had been together, and old friends across families traded stories and card games over spiced ale and honey mead. The raucous had already begun, the succession crisis and Aemond’s presence be damned.

But you were less immune than the others to southron matters. If it was any other night, you would have abandoned your seat to join the Mormonts the moment dessert had been served. You had hardly flinched from your seat, Aemond sitting on the other side of Cregan.

It wasn’t just you that struggled to enjoy the festivities. Rickon sat solemnly, and though you couldn’t see her, you could feel Alysanne’s itch from across the table. In your memory, there had not been a sup as tense as the one before you now. Not even during the most raucous moments of Bennard’s regency.

From what you could see, Aemond sat chin up at your brother’s right hand in the Great Hall, daring to meet the eye of anyone who looked directly at him for too long.

Did he remember? Joining in the merriment felt far as Aemond’s closeness held your mind and heart in the great bind that you had all fallen into at the defiance of Aegon’s coronation. Between the warmth of your southron days in a peaceful realm and the uncertain tidings of the inevitability of your families splitting across enemy lines, your stomach turned at the matters in Aemond’s head.

Cregan stood, the jolly room following the attention of their liege loyally. “Prince Aemond Targaryen has graced us with his presence for our winter festivities.”

“The honor is mine to be in the north at such an important time.” At his own recognition he stood, raising his cup.

“Hear, hear!” Cregan cheered, the tension in his jaw visible to no one but you. Cups flew in celebration, horns clattering and ale spilling. With a signalling of his hand, the bards began fiddling with strings and bells.

Dismissing himself from the table in what you knew was an act meant to soothe himself before he swung Ice at the nearest unlucky post, your brother stepped down to greet the Reeds. Mulled wine danced in your cup, the dark purple echoing cinnamon and anise. There was now nothing between you and Aemond besides the empty chair of the head of house Stark. The hearths were lit—the giant towering stone was hardly cold—but there was no stopping the twinge of a shiver.

So many words had been shared before Aegon had stolen the crown, and you wondered if he remembered all of them. It had been moons since you had seen each other last, and there was no promise of what played in his intentions anymore.

Your mouth was in front of your head. “These are curious times, but winter comes anyway. The one force we must all bow to.”

“And you celebrate instead of damning it?”

You had imagined begging the gods to bring you two together again. But winds can switch within weeks, days even. It was a child’s folly, or a wish upon a monkey’s paw—you couldn’t decide which.

“Aye, we do. The longer nights, nature calls us to rest and gain our strength,” you paused. “We could stare at it for the death it brings, but it’s more than that.”

“Hmm,” his eye washed over the scene below: jubilant dancers shedding their furs, others shoving their faces with cranberry roast goose while the songs bounced in the high halls of the winter kings. There was a carefree nature of your fellow northmen that you had never seen in the south, and you wondered if the warmth built up more layers than it shed.

“I know you southerners don’t understand our ways. I’m sure this is very new to you.”

He turned, eye dancing over your face. “I find it interesting.”

Dragons rarely came north. Aemond stood lone.

Perhaps it was the merry presence of all those you loved dearly, or the choke of death you could sense from miles away, but the distance between you and Aemond felt treacherous. Or worse, traitorous.

You met Aemond’s eye. For so long, he had been a figure in your mind, his presence almost a hypothetical. He existed in a warmer land, one where the sun and sea sparkled off of one another and the dirt sprouted grass and red brick rose the heights of the cliffs to the heavens. Crisis in the south were always so far away, great rivers and mountain passes requiring over a moon’s journey lying between. But he was here now: skin flickering in the flames burning not for light but for warmth as well, Targaryen silver hair feathered down his back like the hands of a ghost, scar dividing his face, as beautiful as the day you had first seen him.

He studied you just the same. Between you, wintry tunes twiddled by the practiced fingers of the musicians sung of the kings of winter, slayers of skinchangers and defenders of what lies beyond the wall, the keepers of knowledge that southerners can not begin to grasp find their home here carried through your blood.

This was your time to share those stories, celebrate the old kings and the promise of winter’s darkness with the singers and all of those that had gathered here for what is thoroughly a northerner’s celebration. Yet here you were at an invisible crossroads with the prince of the realm who would not stand to be denied in mind or matter. His royal blood continuously pulled at you to attend as if you were still in the Red Keep and not in your very own halls.

A Targaryen or two had visited Winterfell once, though the last was under much less grievous circumstances. Alysanne’s was the last dragon to brave the frozen lands, her and Jaehaerys on a true diplomatic mission with no threat of doom hanging over their heads.

You lot were wolves, fur thick and jaws tight, sturdy and hard enough to endure the ice—and yet dragons cowed the winter kings. Aemond’s presence was a cold reminder of that. Dragonfire had never teased Winterfell with ash, but the threat of it lingered now like a stubborn ember in the hearth ready to erupt if a nasty draught came through.

Cregan settled back to the table, his face stern and carrying judgement. He took his seat between you once more, dissolving your attentions.

“My father swore an oath to Rhaenyra,” he began, unbreaking of his eye contact and at a level only detectable by those sitting closest to him. “A Stark never forgets an oath. I would have assumed our reputation would be well met.”

“I understand this, Lord Stark.” Aemond began. There was no hesitation spared from the proud dragon prince. “I simply wanted to make our stances official in the name of the crown.”

Apprehension and distrust hung in the low firelight. The bells beat on behind the attention of the table, singers caroling the haunt of winter between the silence of the prince and the lord.

“Your dragon may be fierce, my prince, but we will not be intimidated.” At Cregan’s declaration, you could feel the ears of the northmen sitting the closest to your table perk up, straightening their backs and harden their own faces—an assertion of pride and a foregoing of the fear that painstakingly had etched itself in their movements at Vhagar’s every grumble.

“I do not seek to intimidate you. Only to draw our lines.” Aemond sat back in his chair, eyeing you.

“Very well then. Our lines are drawn.” Cregan’s brow tensed, and you knew he was biting down hard in restraint.

The singers sang their songs of winter’s past, and the promise of an eventual spring.

—

“He wants us to see that fire breathing monster—

“He’s come to sabotage our army, or count our numbers, or—”

“Aye, I don’t trust him. There’s something not quite right, the Targaryen madness—”

The hour was late. Spittle had spattered across the table, fists flying, heads nodding, voices climbing higher and higher to be heard. The bards had returned to Wintertown, and all the celebration left with them. The northmen were restless, and understandably so with bellies full of too much ale and a dubious dragon prince lurking in the halls. All you lot had prayed the days of clandestine meetings were over once Cregan took the seat of Winterfell, but it had been too soon to hope.

Volleys of theories here or there made their rounds back and forth from all ends of the table. A pack of barking dogs was no better than the fur cloaked rowdy men who were in the heat of spitting at each other now. Cregan’s fist slamming on the wood was enough to draw quiet. “Enough. I demand order to this conversation.”

The hounds had been admonished, tails sinking between their legs at the scolding of their master. There was a moment of reprieve, where sensibility was able to override unordered chatter.

Satisfied with the settlement, Cregan nodded. “Aye, let us speak about this reasonably.”

It was most prudent to speak quietly anyways, considering the halls reeked of dragon. The candle marks were ever shrinking and your energy with it into what had to be the longest night you’d endured in ages. No amount of shouting could awaken you, though you prayed a reigned conversation would allow you to slip into your chambers faster.

Until the words spilled from Wylis Manderly’s mouth and promptly stole not only any draft of sleep in your body, but the breath in your chest as well.

“I know why he’s here,” Manderly started. “Her.”

It wasn’t supposed to be an accusation, but it sure did feel like one, the way it made your chest nearly cave and your defenses rise. The finger he pointed at your forehead felt like an arrow finding its target: lethal and sure of itself. The rest of the eyes at the table followed suit, curious.

“He’s here for her.” Manderly repeated, as if his pointing wasn’t enough.

There were very few times that you had been the subject of a council meeting, and you preferred it that way. It was no fun to have yourself torn apart and examined, no matter the purpose. Your eyes found those of your brother’s reflexively, breath catching in your throat in disbelief.

He returned it carefully. “Explain, Wylis.”

“His eye finds ‘ers. I know the look. He fancies her.” Manderly cocked his head. “She spent more than a few sun’s turns in the South. ‘Twas not more than about seven moons do I remember you comin’ home. Enough time to court our fine lady of the north, don’t ya think?”

The Lord of White Harbor might as well have stripped you bare, prying each layer of your dress with his claw-like hands to leave you exposed in view of the table. It wouldn’t feel any different.

“Is it true, sister?”

Fingers danced across your flesh, platinum hair sliding through your fingers. His thick, masculine moan vibrated on your tongue as his hands tested the weight of the flesh of your hips through squeezes and shakes. It wasn’t a sennight before that when your own fingers twirled your bud and you discreetly thought of him, despite everything.

“Prince Aemond and I were acquainted as friends. Nothing more.”

There was hesitancy in the way the men looked at you now, men of your own blood and land. A separation only possible between those with a cock and those without: the innate distrust that comes with the potential of reaching across enemy lines for the sake of living in a singer's tale. If you could sink down between the floorboards, you would have.

Cregan furrowed his brows, eyes never leaving you. “To you, maybe. The prince may feel differently.”

A bow of your head was all you knew to do. There was no need to deny anything further and spin a mummer’s tale. Lies never sat well in your stomach, to your brother no less.

The lords were dismissed per the late hour and the dreadful sense that Manderly was right. The back of your chair scraped along with the others, but your leave was halted.

“Not you, sister.”

It felt like being a little girl again, and your shoulders tensed to be scolded.

Voice small, you obliged. “Yes, brother.”

He walked towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. Cregan’s grey stormed eyes passed through yours in a knowing, but you dared not say a word. Once the door had shut behind the very last man, he exhaled.

“He’s a dangerous man.” You could see the other words on his tongue, but you never heard them.

“I know.”

He held you there for a moment, and you wondered if he would tell you what was on his mind, what exactly he believed, and you wondered how you would react if he did. All you needed to spill yourself was one more weak push. One more word and he would know how you knew Aemond cared for you, he had promised several moons ago that he would come see you.

But he never asked, and the truth stayed buried in your throat.

—

In the darkest cave of the night, silence was unyielding. Every wolf’s howl was clamped over the mouth by snow, each sound buried alive in the cold white. It made each scurry of a mouse or crackle of a hearth in the castle stiffeningly louder.

Including your footsteps, which you were carefully navigating for discretion all the way to Aemond’s chambers. There would be no sleeping without putting your own matters to rest.

Unthinking, you reached for the door handle and rattled against the lock that held it tight. Your urgency felt out of place in the quiet tranquility of the night. His footsteps within were hesitant and slow. When the door opened, Aemond stood dagger pointed. For a moment, you felt what it was like to be on the other end of his blade, neck laid for the slaughter and his own eye hardened at the intruder who dared seek him at this hour.

At your wide eyes, he softened.

“Lady Stark.”

You didn’t want to waste any time. “Why are you here?”

“Hmm. I think you know why I’m here.” Aemond stalked closer. “I told you I’d come, little wolf.”

“They know.”

“Do they now?” a faint smirk played on his lips now. He stepped aside to welcome you in. “And what did they say about their fairest maiden and their newfound enemy?”

You stepped inside, unable to meet him. “I did not tell them.”

Aemond’s movements stopped. “Why not?”

For all the time you knew him, Aemond was supposed to be smart. A learned man who you could count on not just for knowledge but strategy and cleverness. His stubbornness to see your reasoning surprised you.

“It’s too dangerous. We’re entering war times.”

He scoffed. “If Winterfell wasn’t the safest place for you to be, I’d drag you on dragonback to King’s Landing. The second most safe place to be is by my side.”

“My father swore an oath to Rhaenyra.”

Aemond hardened then, cocking his head. His silhouette reflected that of his warrior nature.

“Are you sure you Starks are strong in your word?” His glare tore through you and you knew the memory he had held on so tightly to come all this way. So he did remember everything.

“I never promised my hand.” The moment the words left your lips, you felt their harshness. Guilt crept in, sinking in your heart.

Aemond exhaled sharply. “Did you have to? Was a pledge of your feelings not enough?”

“Aemond,” you warned, a careful hush of urgency in your voice, “I can’t.”

He burned. You could see it plain. “War is coming. You will stay here in Winterfell.”

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t—he had told you nothing you were not already beholden to. But you saw Cregan and the others, thick in furs and heavy swords strapped to their backs marching south. Every further thought sickened you: dragons overhead, iron-melting flames casting over them.

There was a promise in his words, unspoken but just as present in the implication of safety. I will not bring war to Winterfell.

“I don’t want this.” The words slipped mindlessly. It was helpless to speak aloud. Aemond knew it, as did you.

He stalked towards you, face solemn yet set in the firmness of him. Gently, he took your hand in his, raising it to his lips. “I will come for you when the war is done.”

“But my brothers—”

“I don’t give a shit about your brothers.”

“Aemond,” you scolded.

“Do you not want this?” Aemond said in both query and anger, as if he could not fathom the idea of not being with him.

In truth, you couldn’t either. Memory melted in the sun, the cold that knocked on the gates of the castle chased away by the bright burn of a summer’s passion. Days watching the sweat on his brow as he swung his sword at Ser Cole, using the trivial training yard victories as reason to celebrate with your hands on his chest and his on your waist. Feasts spent sending cheeky looks to each other in a tease as he sat on the high table with the royal family, until he could come down and join the likes of you.

There was something precious between you, far beyond drunk desire in flesh. It made each kiss you shared all the sweeter.

You enjoyed it, the way that at first, he pretended like he wasn’t desperate for your affections. It made things fun, because the truth rested in his eye the moment of your first meeting. Over time, the mask melted and the truth was in his words, actions—and nothing he felt for you wasn’t returned.

At the time, your secret tongues and lips found themselves in the only shadow that you knew existed. but there were many more beyond your knowledge, whispering about what you had believed to be a decided matter of succession.

Winter had come and things were so, painfully different now.

“I want this, but I can’t.” Every bit of what you felt was evident in your voice. “How can you not see that?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“We are on opposite sides, Aemond.”

He shrugged. “You’re a lady. It’s not like you’re going to fight.”

“My brothers are. My men are. They will be on the battlefield, as will you.”

He pursed his lips, looking away from you in resignation of the truth. “Let us hope that our paths do not cross.”

The sink of your stomach was heavy enough that you took small steps backing away. The depths of the winter night whipped at your window. The wind sang a deathly tale, a warning to any who may try to brave it. Or maybe it was for you, the old gods finding a way to tell you that you were damned, as was he, as was whatever it was that lay between you both. Aemond stood, all of the fire in the hearth catching in his long starlight hair, the determination of the warrior he was—and would soon become—deep in his being.

“Don’t look so afraid of me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’ll be commanding armies against mine. And you have a dragon.”

He took careful steps towards you, reaching a tender hand towards your face. “I would never hurt you.”

Words came to your tongue, but the feeling of his skin on your cheek dissolved any refute. He was even nearer now, the bend in your neck needed to find his eye. Aemond’s other hand found your bare cheek, and you stopped yourself from melting in the comfort of his gentle hold.

“Let me just be Aemond, not a prince,” his thumb caressed the pillow of your cheek lightly. “Let yourself just be you, not Lady Stark. Just this once.”

It was a nice thought: an escape from the lurking turmoil of metal on metal, metal on skin. The sword at his hip pressed into the side of your belly, the very thing that by winter’s end will have the blood of hundreds soaked through. Prince Aemond Targaryen, the deliverer of souls to their eternal sleep, whether it be damning them for choosing black or for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dragonflame was like that, wild and uncontrolled.

And you, Lady Stark, sister to the keeper of the north who had chosen black, who must follow in the steps of your kin for the sake of upholding honor. Who will sit in the dead of the north by the weirwood each day and pray to the gods that her brother will return, that her burly friends will join her by the fire once more to shoot the shit, that no one will be so unlucky to be caught beneath the wings of the beast that lay outside the castle walls or under the blade of the man in front of her.

No, you couldn’t be her. Not right now. Your lips parted in a pitiful protest—the very last you had in you, you knew—but his desperation silenced you.

“Please,” he nearly panted. His lips came closer, breath hot on your lips.

Was it honorable to feel the tongue of someone your family had sworn against? No, perhaps not. But—you reminded yourself, in a sorry attempt to make excuses—for now he was just Aemond.

And ‘just’ Aemond had delightfully silky locks to lightly twist your fingers in as your kiss deepended.

His doublet was thick and you wondered if he had it made for his visit. His visit to you. Running your hands along the sides of him, you felt the daggers at his hip, subtle but ready. Aemond was already feeling through your own dress, sifting through the layers to get to your skin. Each of you searching for one another’s flesh.

The heel of your foot lifted out of your slipper with the help of your other toes. Aemond was reaching to unclasp the buckles of his doublet, the both of you doing your own part while keeping your mouths on each other in your climb to get close.

Of all your frolicking, you had yet to see each other so bare. Your time in the Red Keep hadn’t allowed for many private moments. Kisses were frequently stolen between training sessions and feasts, but the risk of being found in Aemond’s chambers—or him in yours—could be far too incriminating for your reputation. The one or two moments where you did find yourself alone in his chambers solely to see a book or another in his favor, and you were never there over a candle mark.

Winterfell was different from the Red Keep. There were far fewer vipers and spiders on the hunt. The hour was late, even later than any potential vipers may burden themselves to stay awake for. If one happened to see you, they served wolves and not dragons anyway. It was freeing to have him like this, a moment you had been long waiting for.

Aemond’s kiss was a seal of your condemnation, for from the first touch of your tongues those moons ago, you knew that at no point after tasting such a sweet nectar would you not seek it out over and over again. It was just as mind bending as it had been every other time: soft at first and leading into fullness. You had dreamed of his tongue on yours again, down your throat and lips on yours to consume you. He was hungry and you gladly fed the beast within him. The blood beneath his flesh burned hot, and the buds on your chest hardened at the feel of your bareness against his.

Long platinum locks lightly brushed over your shoulders in a sensual dance. Your hands roamed his body in curiosity and a thirst for closeness. It was hardened and soft all at once, the shape of him only feeding the burn of your desire.

It was difficult to admit to yourself how much you had needed this, having pushed it down when the sun set day after day and you struggled to remind yourself that Aemond was now a traitor to your queen and therefore your honor. His hands in your hair, feeling the dips and curves of your own body. Now, such things dissolved in the spit that passed from your lips to his, the animal of desire breaking through any code you clung to.

Holding you by your hips, Aemond backed you against his bed. His hands urged your thighs upward so your back may rest on the bed, as if he was preparing you for himself. You followed his lead dutifully, each graze of his fingers along your bare legs sending your belly alight.

Aemond leaned above you now, having joined you on the bed. “You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you replied, rejoining your fingers to lace in his locks, holding his face as if it were a holy grail.

His fingers trailed lower across your stomach, past the heat between your legs and the dip where your leg met your hip. At their slight movement, you could feel more wetness begin to drip out of you, the teasing motion of his hands feeling so close…yet so far. Wide palms and lithe fingers moved to caress the skin just deeper than the inside of your knee. Featherlight touches on your skin reached outward towards your

Aemond moved patiently over your wetness with time to spare, despite your squirms and soft moans telling him that you were more than ready to feel the pads of his fingers. Soft kisses lined your cheek before dipping his lips and tongue into your mouth in deep union. His cock, covered by the cotton of his small clothes, sat heated and heavy on your leg. Every feel of him made you want him more.

Breaking you free from your prison of desire, his fingers finally brushed over your center. They most delicately gathered the nectar at your lips, playing with it against the flower of your entrance. The simple movement, yet another tease of his touch, weakened you into a puddle beneath his hand. His thumb found your clit, beginning slow circles there.

He was winding you up like a toy, playing you on his hand to make pretty noises. If he had asked you to do anything at that moment, you would have said yes.

Aemond’s other had reached up to meet your bottom lip, letting the pad of his thumb rest there. With wide eyes you accepted it to sit on your tongue, drawing it softly into your mouth before pulling back once more.

“That’s it, my little wolf” he said, releasing your lips their fixation.

There was little else you cared for, sitting on your bed in the humble guest chambers, hearth warmed and Aemond’s fingers sinking deep into your core and curling deliciously.

“Shh. You don’t want your northmen to hear, do you?” He said it, punching his words with another tight movement at the perfect place deep within you in a smug maneuver that he knew would have a moan choking from your throat despite the deep silence that surrounded you.

He was right, you didn’t, but you hardly cared if it meant his hands continued their sync. Every drop of hesitation and secrecy you had so desired earlier had been drowned out by the tight wanting of your core, wetness slipping down his fingers and coating the very inside of your thighs.

When your pleasure peaked into ecstasy, your honey soaked walls squeezed and fluttered around him, arms looped and holding him tight to you in breathy moans that were meant for him only. There were truly no boundaries wrapped between you now, even if just for a moment, the long absence of his touch and feel sinking deep into your essence.

Humming in satisfaction, Aemond slid his forefingers coated in your syrupy sex into his mouth. “I didn’t know the honor of a Stark tasted so delicious”

All the furs that had once sat heavily on the bed had slid off. Flesh against flesh, you were content in your afterglow, pushing away thoughts of tomorrow or the day after. Aemond’s hands were hungry more, his own desire hardly satiated. His cock weighed on your stomach, hips needily pressing into yours.

“Baby, you’re so soaked. Your body needs me inside you,” Aemond brushed his nose with yours, cock sliding over your pillowy lips.

He must have been a devil of some kind, the enemy, for trying to convince you that your maidenhead could be sacrificed while he was on a diplomatic mission.

Sensing your hesitation, he hummed into your mouth, drawing you into another kiss.

“Who would I be to leave you like this? You need to be fucked.” he purred into your ear, and your own hips flexed in release.

It was tempting. It was. But your virtue remained imperatively prudent, and no amount of Aemond’s want would change it. “I’m a maiden. You know this.”

“Does it matter if I want to marry you anyway?” His voice was lust-drunk, buried in your neck and leaving traces of kisses there.

You giggled, shifting under him. “Yes, Aemond.”

“Hmm.” He grumbled, lifting himself onto his elbows to look you in the face. “Guess I’ll just have to do it now then.”

It passed between you then, a faint look of heartbreak at the reality of what such things would mean, or what they would take. The betrayal of your brother, of your fellow bannermen—the question of Aemond’s truest allegiances, marriage or not, always sitting in the back of your mind. Roiling dragonfire and singing blades sliding against another in strain.

“I don’t care where we stand. You’re mine, Lady Stark. Nothing will ever change that.”

A kiss was your only reply, caught in the trouble and pleasure of his words, a sentence that fulfilled everything and nothing that you wanted to hear. Desperate and searching it was, searching for an end to the madness you were both inevitably walking towards and away from your unity.

With your limbs intertwined, heart to heart, each of you felt all of the possible flesh you could. You let yourself close your eyes in his embrace, candles dying in the latest hours of the night. Maybe, you thought, this moment could be eternal if you let it: if you were truly present in his warmth and flesh, it could anchor you both in time, allowing you both to feel and hold each other for centuries. No blood would soak into the dirt nor stain your hands. Never had you clung to an idea of peace so hard.

In another world, Rhaenyra ascended the throne just as the realm had thought. Your journey south would have been fulfilled just the same. Someone of importance would take note of your affinity for each other, and given that you were not being clearly stowed away for one dragon versus another, a marriage proposal would be signed and sent to your brother north. He would read it and scowl at the thought of his sister being tied to the Targaryen blood almost all Starks were partial to hating, but at the sight of your ease, he would relent. A wedding would be hosted in the Great Sept to please your prince and southron overlords, and another at the heart tree of Winterfell’s godswood.

You clung to your fantasy in the low hours until your knuckles turned white, Aemond’s soft breathing warming your cheek. But clinging to anything fleeting often meant bloodying your hands or being dragged until you let go.

Those in the south lived in an endless summer, whether they realized it or not. Many would claim a chill or swear they felt the winds change. Perhaps snow even fell occasionally—but such a faint dusting would cower in the face of the fronts from beyond the wall. Such a front scratched at the window of Aemond’s chamber now. It was a most cruel master to any bare skin unlucky enough to bear it, beating it raw until cracks formed and blood spurred. A similar iciness was threatening to drown you from the inside, only made stronger by the beat of Aemond’s blood in your ears.

No matter how much you wished it not be true, your honor could not allow you to stay in his arms for another moment. Especially not after you had indulged yourself on his fingers and lips.

Sloughing off the furs, you crept carefully to the mess of layers of your dress on the floor. It was late—or early, put differently—enough that you could do your best to get away with not wearing your full dress back to your room. As long as your previous state of savagery wasn’t obvious, the essentials would do.

When your eyes awoke once more in your own bed, it was to the ancient cry of a dragon. Your heavy legs and eyes ran to catch up with what you knew was happening, what you must confirm quickly in a hazy winter’s light. From the window, you could see Vhagar lifted her bronze head into the sky, fire threatening to leave the cavern of her throat. Her solemn grumbling echoed through the valley, swirling with the wind singing through the trees.

Cradles of snowflakes fell as falling stars, silver embers burning in the early light. It was still night—constellations just barely beginning to fade. Grabbing your furs to quickly wrap around your shoulders, you rushed out of your chambers. The torches in the hallway burned low. It was the last hour before they would be re-lit for another day’s warmth. Flames flickered past you in your hasty steps to the outermost walls of the castle.

You caught sight of Aemond, stalking into the arms of the frosted northern wild, a sickened determination—or resignation, you didn’t know which—in his steps. The black of his furs cradled his silver hair, a delicate, feathery mix of dark and light.

A goodbye wouldn’t have been wise, for you knew if you hadn’t left his chambers you would both wake up and refuse to leave each other’s side—or rather, he’d refuse you to leave his. If he was in front of you, he knew he could convince you of anything. There was too deep of suspicion for the prince to arouse the maiden Lady Stark, and Aemond was a smart man.

Or at least you told yourself so, hoping that he wasn’t bitter like he was in your fears, and that he understood.

The battlements on which you stood were tall enough to rise over any enemy that Winterfell might face. Thousands of years had seen enemies fall in front of the stone giants that guarded the innermost castle. Enemies of centuries past faltered against all kings of winter, sound in their defenses and strong in their charge. Any enemy but Aemond.

Heavy wings wafted through the north wind, the shadow of Vhagar draining the moon and snowlight from the sky in the shape of war-torn wings. With a large curl of her body, she turned to the walls on which you stood. Muscled and bronzed, Aemond and his beast came closer. You had never seen a dragon in flight so near to you. Her heavy legs hung in the air, the claws themselves thicker than your largest studs.

A few men below began howling in fear, but you knew something they did not. Even as she drew nearer and her wings covered Winterfell in shadow and her maw roared close enough you could see her blood soaked teeth and feel her boiling breath in the chapped air. It was warm against your cheek, a balm against the pale morning’s frost, comfort blooming where it touched. Near everything but the foundation of the castle itself shook against the dragon’s cry, mountainous wings curling wind through your hair.

There was a time when Harren the Black had seen a similar sight: the interchange between day and night, a beast larger than a small keep looming over his home, an impenetrable castle. Fire had burned deep in Balerion’s chest, and his black teeth were the gates of hellfire to all those who rested in Harrenhal. Aemond and Vhagar loomed above Winterfell now in a fierce stand, leaving you and all of your men as nothing but ash in the wind if he so desired.

You knew he didn’t.

Vhagar roared again, something painful desperately clawing from her chest, and you could feel the solemn echo of Aemond’s own turmoil. Her wings lifted higher through her cry, large body clawing through the sky until the darkness of her ascended into the heavy snow clouds.

The next time you saw the prince, the crown of the conqueror sat on his head as if it was made for him, and winter had licked your skin raw.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!stark!reader #ewan mitchell smut #i was slightly unhappy with this #but alas it must be posted eventually #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond targaryen smut

174 notes · View notes

beelinx · 5 days ago

Note

heyyaaa! If you have time in ur schedule, could you please do ‘protective boyfriend’ head-cannons or a blurb for Tsukishima and Osamu? (I humbly ask of you if you’re able to and if you can Matsukawa or Tendo as well😔🙏ONLY IF YOU WANT TO THO)

remember to drink water heh

haikyuu men as protective bfs <3

ft. tsukishima, osamu, matsukawa, and tendou !

note: honestly it was sm fun to write this, but i think most of this is ooc and over exaggerated 😭 anyways chat think of this as a new year's gift ! 🥳 warnings: annoying men... mention of tits in osamu's. use of babe, bitch, and prude in tendou's. use of babe in matsukawa's. ooc tendou and matsukawa probably 😖 fem!reader !!

✧｡ kei tsukishima

going to your boyfriend’s volleyball matches was always a fun experience. the electricity and passion some players exuded was truly contagious.

also, you got to see him being all hot and sweaty.

definitely an amazing time!

everyone in the sendai frogs were always incredibly welcoming to you, too. his teammates even ask about you when you’re not there (or, at least that’s what tsukishima tells you). regardless of whether or not he’s telling the truth, you would say you do feel truly welcome and comfortable around there.

today was match day. you made sure kei had everything ready, though it’s not like he’s the type to be forgetful or anything. still, he lets you fuss over him all you want without uttering a complaint (which you know must have been truly difficult for him).

once you got to the location where his team would be playing, he bid you goodbye with a short peck on the cheek. his teammates waved to you, too. there were two new teammates, just as kei had told you. you recognized kentaro from highschool, and though he still had the same grumpy attitude, he was nice enough to you. the other guy, though… you had no clue who he was.

settling on a seat with a decent view of the match, you prepared yourself for the exhilarating time you were probably about to have.

and that you did.

the sendai frogs won 2-1, and you really couldn’t have been happier. well, actually, it felt as if you were about to have a heart attack throughout the duration of that whole game. everytime kei jumped up to block a powerful spike you felt your heart jump. you imagined any doctor would think you’re close to having your heart malfunction.

you basically raced out of the audience seats, already ready to jump into your boyfriend’s arms and congratulate him with many kisses and hugs that he will probably complain about. whatever —he can mutter all the complaints he wants about pda and stuff, but you’re too happy to not smother him with love.

one problem, though.

you could not find him anywhere.

no matter, you figured he was probably in the changing room or something. you could just wait outside for him for a bit, and if he didn’t come out, you’d go look for him.

meanwhile, tsukishima was trying his hardest to not blow up at his new teammate.

“is she your friend, then?” he asked him. it was probably his 100th question regarding you at this point, and he was well past his tolerance limit.

“no.”

“so… your sister?”

tsukishima scoffed, you two didn’t even look alike. “no.”

“jeez, no need to be so harsh, dude. i just think she’s hot,” the guy stated, while changing into a clean shirt.

koganegawa, who’d been listening in, cheerfully piped up. “well, she’s his girlfriend! so i don’t think tsuki appreciates that very much.”

the guy’s eyes widened. “oh. i didn’t know dude, my bad.”

tsukishima cast him a cold glare and resumed changing without another word.

you were getting antsy waiting for him. what is taking him so long? you were bored. well, you figured enough time had passed that it’d be okay for you to go looking for him, so you did. but, while you were heading his way, you bumped into a man.

“oh! i’m so sorry! i was distracted,” you apologized deeply.

“it’s no problem, really. i-” the man said, before stopping abruptly.

“...is something the matter?” you asked, noticing the way the man’s wide gaze roamed over you.

a sudden grin appeared on his face, his expression resembling one of someone who’d just won the lottery ticket.

“you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

you sputtered, taken aback by his directness. “oh uh… thank you?”

“can i have your number?” he asked, smirking at you.

“i have a boyfriend so uh…”

“awe come one, he doesn't have to know, right?” he chuckled. suddenly, you recognized the man in front of you. this was tsuki’s new teammate, the one you didn’t know anything about. he saw you with tsuki before the match, so why would he be asking you out? surely he knew you were his teammate's girlfriend?

“come on, just your number, yeah?” he persisted. “you’re allowed to have friends, aren't you?”

you laughed awkwardly, “well i um…”

“move.”

your boyfriend's harsh voice saved you from answering. the guy’s head snapped back, towards his teammate who was now towering over him. he suddenly seemed incredibly flustered, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be caught.

“oh, sorry man. i was just-”

“hitting on my girlfriend?”

“n-no! we were just talking, right?” he said, directing his question towards you.

tsukishima didn’t have to wait for your answer, he knew well enough what this man’s intentions were. “i would suggest you leave her alone, unless you’d like to make this a bigger problem than it has to be.”

the guy hesitated for a second, before he finally spoke. “y-yeah, of course. my bad.”

he scurried away, not without taking a few looks back at you two. your boyfriend scoffed, seemingly angrier and more upset at the situation than you were.

“that was hot.”

tsukishima’s widened as he snapped his head towards you and stared as if you were the most insane person he’d ever met.

“excuse me?”

“you’re hot when you’re protective,” you giggled. “do that more often.”

he raised a brow at you. “you’re crazy.”

“aww, that’s mean!” you fake pouted. “you have to make it up to me now.”

he tilted his head quizzically at you, deciding to humor you. “how?”

you grinned from ear to ear. “let’s go shopping!

noticing the way your eyes sparkled as you suggested that, he couldn’t possibly say no.

he rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses. “fine,” he agreed. “but we’re eating first. i’m starving.”

✧｡ osamu miya

most of your dates with osamu were indoors, in a private space where the only people around were you two. just relaxing with you is his favorite type of date. still though, he loves to spoil you. so, that’s exactly what he’s doing today.

“‘samu this is too much,” you’d told him.

“nonsense,” he replied simply. “i’m your boyfriend, therefore it’s my duty to spoil ya, isn’t it?”

“but this,” you said, signaling to the expensive outfit he’d bought you. “this is too expensive.”

he simply shook his head. “get dressed, yeah? i’m taking ya out.”

all you could do was roll your eyes and try to smother the grin that was threatening to come up.

the outfit he’d bought you was nice, really nice. you’d seen it at a store before, and you couldn’t help but think it was incredibly beautiful. he’d noticed, apparently, as he’d bought it without even taking note of the price tag. it was also kind of revealing, but nothing all that scandalous. you felt beautiful, really. you took note to make sure to be extremely grateful to him.

osamu loves cooking for you, he really does. he’s basically become your private chef, which works out since you also adore his cooking. tonight, however, he was temporarily relinquishing his title and taking you to some expensive restaurant. though he’d try to deny it, this was more a treat to him than to you. after all, he’s the one practically drooling as he looks over the menu.

you giggled as you looked at him, quickly scanning over the menu and deciding on what you’d be having.

“hello, are you both ready to order?”

you tilted your head up to look at the waiter, straightening your back as you realized you’d been slouching. “oh, yes, thank you,” you replied, quickly listing off your order, pointing at the items in the menu.

when you turned to look at osamu, he was staring daggers at the waiter. you frowned and kicked his leg under the table. he coughed awkwardly and listed off his order, too.

“what was that?” you asked, both concerned but also slightly amused.

“my order?”

“don’t mess with me, ‘samu.” you threatened.

“he was starin’ at ya.” he answered simply.

“well. yeah. i was ordering.”

“no, i mean like… staring at ya,” he emphasized. osamu sighed, “put this on.”

he took off his jacket and handed it to you. “ya can take it off when we leave. or we can ask for a different waiter.”

you scrunched your eyebrows. “‘samu i really don’t think-”

“he was starin’ directly at your tits.”

your eyes widened. “oh!”

“yeah, so unless ya want me to bust open that guy’s head, please wear this for now.”

it was impossible to smother your grin as you put on his jacket. you giggled softly, “you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

he rolled his eyes lightheartedly, “sure.”

“oookay, here we go,” said the waiter as he returned minutes later. he gave osamu his food wordlessly, maybe too intimidated by the way he was glaring at him, or maybe just because he didn’t care.

“and food for the beautiful lady!” he chuckled as he placed your food in front of you. osamu’s jaw tightened. you looked down to your plate awkwardly.

“...thanks,” you said, starting to eat.

the waiter didn’t leave. it seemed he was waiting to say something, but didn’t. he hesitated, and once it finally seemed as if he was going to get the words out, osamu cleared his throat.

“we’re all done here, no need to linger,” he grumbled.

the man seemed taken aback by osamu’s hostility. you kicked him underneath the table again. “of course. right. i’ll be back later with your check.”

osamu hummed in reply. when he turned back to you, he was scowling. his silly face almost made you forget immediately about the awkward interaction that just took place. almost.

“you looked so mad, ‘samu. i almost thought you were gonna walk out of here.”

he looked at you as if you were a lunatic, then turned his gaze towards his food. “no jerk could ever make me waste food.”

you laughed. of course, nothing could ever come between osamu and his love for food. not even an annoying waiter. you suspected that, if an apocalypse ever took place, he would also prioritize his food over anything. except maybe you.

“when we’re done we should go get dessert. not here, though. i don’t want to see that fucker again.”

all you could do was laugh and roll your eyes at his pettiness.

✧｡ issei matsukawa

matsukawa is an easy going guy. he doesn’t lose his temper that easily. he doesn’t get mad over silly jokes. he lets maki tease him, doesn’t he? he tries his best to keep his composure during games. he even keeps his cool when his little brother is being all pissy. and yeah, he might get pissed at kentaro every once in a while, but who wouldn’t, what with that guy’s attitude and all?

that is the mantra he keeps repeating to himself over and over as he watches some jackass try to put the moves on you.

okay, well, that jackass is actually a really good friend of yours.

…which actually might make it all worse for him.

he can’t insult the guy or fight him, he’s your friend after all. at least that’s what you think. you seem blissfully oblivious to the guy’s painful crush over you.

matsukawa figures he can either break the news to you, or let you remain happily unaware.

or better yet, a secret third option!

he can just break the guy’s jaw and make him never bother you again.

actually, that one might be a little extreme.

well, he had to do something. watching that jerk trying to get all touchy touchy with you pissed him the fuck off. even more than kentaro’s snarky comments.

“babe,” he called.

your head snapped towards him, your mouth immediately twisting into a delighted grin at the sight of him.

“issei!” you exclaimed. “i didn’t know you’d be here today. i thought you were hanging out with maki?”

he was, but maki had to leave early for a job interview. the detail didn’t matter, though. “oh, i just missed you so much i had to come back to you.” he snaked his arms around your waist, burrowing his head on your neck.

you slightly scrunched your eyebrows at his odd behavior. it wasn’t like him to act this way.

“i hope maki isn’t upset that you ditched him to hang out with me.”

“oh, not at all! he knows how important it is for guys to hang around their girlfriends.” he said, adding emphasis on the last word as he pulled away from you. he stared down the guy and pushed his shoulders back to appear taller. though it’s not like he needed to, mostly anyone can confirm how intimidating matsukawa can be thanks to his height.

your friend laughed nervously. “y-yeah.”

matsukawa wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “we should go on a date, then. what do you feel like eating?”

“oh, we were actually just about to go have lunch,” your friend chimed in, his voice suddenly sounding sure of himself.

matsukawa cast a dismissive glare towards him. “well she’s my girlfriend, isn’t she?”

your friend scoffed, “i don’t think-”

“perfect, then!” he interrupted your friend before he could object. “let’s go, babe. we can go to your favorite place. my treat, of course.”

“o-okay?” you replied, confused at the interaction that had just taken place.

you let matsukawa drag you all the way to the parking lot before pulling your arm away.

“what the hell was that?” you exclaimed.

“what was what?” he said, already seemingly back to his normal attitude.

“you were so rude to him!”

“i don’t think you should be friends with him anymore.” he simply answered, not exactly taking into account your previous comment.

you sputtered before finally saying, “since when do you have a say in who i’m friends with?”

he cast his gaze on you, soft, despite the current conversation. “i just don’t think he’s good company to have around.”

“what do you mean?”

he sighed, before finally admitting, “he’s in love with you.”

you blinked repeatedly at him in shock. “he is?”

“yes, and i don’t like that.”

you opened and closed your mouth, unsure on what to say.

“i didn’t know.”

“i know.”

both of you stood silently in the parking lot, before he finally gave in and spoke first. “i don’t want to control who you are or aren’t friends with. it’s not my job,” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “but i don’t feel exactly comfortable having you around him, knowing his intentions and all.”

you stared at him before meekly replying, “okay.”

he tilted his head, “okay?”

you nodded. “i understand what you mean. i, uhm… i’ll have a chat with him, to see if he does have feelings for me. i’ll cut him off if he does, because i don’t think i’d feel very comfortable around him then either.”

matsukawa nodded too. “alright. let’s go have lunch then. i think the place closes earlier today.”

you paused, “actually… can we go to the new place that just opened up nearby instead? i’ve been wanting to try it out.”

he laughed, “sure, whatever you say.”

✧｡ satori tendou

parties are fun, aren’t they? all the people, blasting music, drinks, and more, make an amazing atmosphere for those who enjoy it. and halloween parties are even better! who doesn’t enjoy a fun costume?

tendou can’t really say it’s his atmosphere. he also wouldn’t say that he fits into the group of people who don't like them. he’s just… okay with them. though, for you, he’s more than okay with them.

he let you put him in some cheesy halloween costume. a chef, you told him. you were dressed as some rat, though he thought you looked way too gorgeous to be called that. you had insisted the idea was cute, it was from a movie, after all. and, while he wasn’t entirely against the idea to begin with, all your insistence convinced him he had no way out of it either way.

“don’t you like it when i pull on your hair?” you had teased him. “it’s the perfect role for you.”

“and that is why i’m buzzing allllll my hair off.”

“don’t you dare!”

so, here you were. a big halloween party, both of you matching in a couple’s costume. he looked okay, but you… you looked absolutely breathtaking. before you left you had made a comment about being a sexy mouse, chuckling afterwards. a reference, he figured. he’d have to make you watch the movie with him later.

he definitely wasn’t the only one who thought you looked amazing. you know, taking into account the guy that was practically hanging onto you for dear life.

immediately, once he noticed that and how uncomfortable you looked, he rushed over to save you.

“ohhh, what do we have here?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light to hide his clear annoyance.

“oh, hey dude,” replied the man, having a noticeably slur to his words. “just tryna convince this babe to give me a little kiss, or come to the bathroom with me for some fun, ya feel me?” the man laughed, the smell of alcohol so strong he bet everyone in the party would have smelled it.

tendou narrowed his eyes. “personal space sure is a fun thing, huh!” he said as he grabbed the man from his shoulders and tried to get him away from you.

the man pulled away and got closer to you once more, making you scoff in irritation, trying to pull him off once more. “ugh, this asshole just grabbed onto me while i was getting a drink!” you complained, turning your attention back to the man. “and i already told you, i have a boyfriend!”

the man faked being upset. “he doesn’t have to know, gorgeous. now stop being a prude bitch and-”

tendou’s fist moved faster than the man’s mouth.

the man stumbled back, caressing his jaw in shock. you scurried far away from him, standing behind tendou, whose fake cheerful attitude was long gone.

he turned back to look at you, his face laced with concern.

“i’m fine,” you told him. noticing his doubt, you added, “i promise, okay? i’m fine.”

he nodded, seemingly convinced for now. and turned his attention back to the man.

it was almost like a switch turned on, really. first he was sweet and worried about you, then he returned to his mocking face. you figured it was an act, though. he wasn’t the type to get incredibly angry at others. but he messed with you, so tendou would probably murder the guy if he could.

the man spit into the ground and scoffed, “what the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“ohh, you know, i was just testing my theory on how many hits it would take for a pervert to get knocked out!” he fake-giggled. “do you want me to keep going?”

the man’s scornful gaze was casted onto tendou, who didn’t really seem like he was joking.

“you’re creepy as fuck man,” coughed the man, “and you’re insane. dunno why she’d choose you.”

“well i know why no one chose you,” tendou said, dragging the last word in a mocking way.

“let’s go.”

tendou snapped his head toward you, his wide eyes curious as he tilted his head.

“huh?”

“i’m tired. i just want to get some sleep,” you said, your voice so quiet you could’ve been an actual mouse. it broke his heart, really. how excited you were for the party, just to have your mood destroyed by some random creep.

he blinked at you, then blinked at the man, before abruptly standing tall. he decided it was best if he let the man be, and put his focus towards bettering your mood. you could watch that movie you referenced before, but you’d have to stop and buy snacks first. no matter, you are in dire need of more snacks in your pantry, so it’d work out.

his looming frame towered over you as he replied, already set on his plan, “okay, let’s go!”

180 notes · View notes

sgojoenthusiast · 1 year ago

Text

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY THREE: BREAK-IN. ✧.* toji fushiguro x reader

summary: During yet another fight with your boyfriend, you hear strange noises coming within your new apartment - but don't worry, it's just toji fushiguro breaking and entering to steal your things and fuck your brains out.

cw: fem reader, breaking in, mentions of a toxic relationship, cheating, your boyfriend's a dickhead who cheated first, that doesn't mean i condone cheating tho, mirror sex, fingering, p in v, perv toji, he steals ur underwear, age gap, reader is like early twenties and toji is late thirties, 'slut', 'princess', 'sweetheart', toji takes a video of you and sends it to your boyfriend, i might have forgotten something so please let me know.

word count: 4.9k likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy. masterlist

-`♡´-

You lay in the bed of your new apartment in nothing but your boyfriend’s shirt as you texted mindlessly on your phone, not paying any attention to whatever was going on around you but, why would that matter? You were in the comforts of your own apartment and your own room, right? Wrong.

If you hadn’t been paying attention to your boyfriend starting, yet another, argument over text, you might have heard the rustling of items behind your walls.

In your defence, there was a lack of movement or footsteps to be heard. The way Toji moved was inaudibly and stealthily, looking for anything that may be of a rich value.

Unfortunately for him, you had just moved in, so most of your belongings were in boxes, making it significantly harder for him to silently rummage through.

Toji wandered about your apartment purposefully, stumbling upon a framed picture of you and your boyfriend. On one hand, you were smiling gleefully, looking at your boyfriend as though he had galaxies packed away in his eyes. On the other, however, he was looking away, an expression of boredom painted on his face.

Toji couldn’t help but scoff, if he had pulled someone as hot as you, he’d be the one taking the pictures and having them be the first pieces of decor he hung in his apartment, smiling genuinely and showing you off proudly.

Stupidly, he had the amazing idea of knocking the picture frame off the mantle it stood on and ‘accidentally’ stamping on it. Truthfully, he had zero reason to do that. The only things he knew about you was what he had found out pre-breaking into your home, you could’ve been the misery of your relationship causing your boyfriend to appear so unhappy.

Yet, from the way your eyes sparkled to innocently and full of a need to prove yourself, he could immediately tell that wasn’t the truth.

Upon hearing your confused footsteps reaching your bedroom door, Toji panicked and darted for your bathroom.

Dumb thing. He thought. Who in their right mind’s first instinct when they hear a possible intruder is to step outside to check it out, completely defenceless, and without bringing your phone?

You looked around your apartment warily, creaking your door open a touch aiming to see if anyone was outside. “Hello?”

No reply.

Noticing the fallen picture frame, you sighed, walking out to put it back in its place before heading back to your room with relief painted on your face.

Toji let out a breath of ease, relaxing after hearing your door slam shut but not taking any chances of leaving the bathroom so soon.

Looking around, he noticed your washing basket and smirked. A pair of lacy, pink panties sat at the top of the pile, practically begging for him to shove them into his pocket - and who was he to refuse? His dick twitched in his pants, yet he paid no attention as he pressed his ear against the door aiming to hear whether you were still out there.

Once he was positive that you were back in your room, he grabbed his bag and gently pushed the door open.

It was strange, he’d only ever seen a dull picture that depicted your sad relationship of you, yet he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind, specifically, the image of you bouncing on his cock endlessly and wrapping your lips around his dick. He’d hardly heard your voice, yet he could hear your moans so perfectly. He was perfectly able to picture your body in such lewd, shameless positions even though you had no idea he existed.

Toji was a man driven by two things, his heart which yearned for wealth and fortune, and his dick which yearned for women like you.

He tried to push away his disgusting thoughts, yet they were overwhelming. He scolded himself mentally, who fantasises over a woman they’ve never locked eyes with? Toji felt truly pathetic.

Over in your room, you sniffled painfully, reading the recent messages from your boyfriend, who was blaming you for the fact that he had cheated. Despite this, you were still wasting all your effort apologising. Eventually, he would want you back, once he was bored with the girl he had cheated with, however, you still cared for him nevertheless.

Your throat was tired from all the crying, so you decided to exhaustively move out of bed to grab a drink, your feet were light on the floor, hardly making a sound - and hardly warning Toji of your upcoming presence.

By the time he had realised you were coming, your door was half way coming and you had already caught a glimpse of his broad, noticeable figure.

When Toji’s cold eyes met your fearful ones, his heart began to pound with swarms of different emotions. Firstly, he felt annoyed with himself for not noticing that you were coming until it was too late. He also felt nervous that he had fucked up the robbery, yet confident that he could twist himself out of the situation he had put himself in.

Yet, there was another part of him that caused his heart to stop, not with annoyance or nervousness, but with an infatuation with the fearful look in your teared up eyes. An obsession with the way your thighs looked from peeking out under your shirt. He couldn’t take his eyes off you - you looked so much better than the photo on the mantle.

You were frozen in your space. Your mind was flooded with questions. How didn’t you hear him? How long has he been here for? Did he knock the photograph down? Why couldn’t you take your traitorous eyes off his body which looked as though it had been sculpted by gods? Why on Earth was there that familiar ache in between your legs when you looked at him?

Realistically, the best thing to do in this scenario when you’re defenceless facing a man who could, most likely, take you out with only a finger, would be to scream. However, your throat had gone even more dry than before and you felt like you couldn’t use your voice - even if you wanted to.

Of course you wanted to, a man had just broken into your apartment and was carrying a bag full of what was probably your stuff, judging by the open boxes you were certain you had taped shut. Also, even despite your initial lustful thoughts, you were committed to your boyfriend

Your boyfriend who hadn’t picked up his phone in a while, even though you were mid-trying to sort things out between the two of you and salvage whatever was left of your relationship, probably because he was having sex with the same woman you were arguing about.

Both of you just stared at each other for a while, trying to find words.

You were the first to speak up. “You need to leave, my boyfriend will be here soon and I swear to god he’ll beat the shit out of you.” You attempted to intimidate.

Toji only tilted his head at you with a false look of comfort etched onto his features as he concealed his smile at how cute you were when you were trying to scare him off. “Hm, you’re boyfriend, huh?” He started making his way over to you at a leisurely pace. “He got nothin’ to do with how puffy your eyes look? Or why you’ve spent the entire time I’ve been here cryin’?”

His bold, yet truthful, assumptions startled you, and caused some sort of realisation to stir inside your mind. Now, you didn’t want to think negatively of your boyfriend. He used to be so sweet until his kind words turned bitter and his cute jealousy turned controlling and hypocritical, considering he’d sleep with whoever’s eyes would linger.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, not like this so-called boyfriend of yours.”

Trying to keep your composure was the last thing on your mind. “You don’t know anything about me and my boyfriend, and don’t call me that.” You snapped at him, trying to defend your horrible excuse of a boyfriend, even if his words provided you with a sense of disturbing comfort. Toji only laughed and rolled his eyes.

Testing his luck, he got closer and closer to you. “You’re right, I don’t. All I do know, is that if i was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new apartment in this shithole of a city to spend your entire night crying whilst ‘m off fuckin’ some other girl. I mean, that’s what he’s doing, right? Haven’t heard your phone go off in a while.”

You realised that this current moment, where a potentially dangerous man was standing in front of you ready to possibly kill you at any moment, was probably not an appropriate time to rethink every moment you ever spent with your boyfriend and to contemplate whether waiting for him to reply was the best thing for you. However, when even a potentially dangerous man can recognise the present toxicity of your relationship, it’s difficult not to.

Even so, you couldn’t let your vulnerability slip through any cracks. Now, you were quite certain he wasn’t going to hurt you. In a strange way, he made you feel protected and that scared you slightly. Yet, the way he spoke to you, it gave you a sense of security you had never felt with your boyfriend.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, not like this so-called boyfriend of yours.”

Truly, you believed him. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down.

“If you were my boyfriend, hm?” You tilted your head up at him, a seemingly innocent smile playing on your lips. “You don’t even know me, yet you’re already fantasising about being my boyfriend. Plus, I don’t even know your name.”

This surprised Toji, though, he wasn’t going to deny that your newfound confidence was incredibly alluring. He took a couple more steps towards you without even knowing, like he was already caught in your trap. However, he already understood that he was addicted to you without even a single taste.

Toji replied with a curt, cold laugh. “It’s Toji, and you’re talking a lot for a woman who’s flirting with a criminal yet doesn’t even have the guts to break-up with her boyfriend.”

Neither of you had realised the close proximity between your bodies until the final syllable fell from Toji’s lips. You felt suffocated, yet not trapped. You couldn’t find your breath but in this moment, it was the last thing you needed when his lips were right there.

“Yet here you are, breaking into my house, clearly desperate to fuck me, and getting so pissed off at the sight of my boyfriend you broke the picture of us.” You deduced. “That is what happened, right?”

His lips twitched but the rest of his face remained stoic, refusing to portray any hidden emotion he was feeling.

“You’re just a pervy old man desperate for some pussy. The sight of me smiling with my boyfriend pissed you off that much, hm? And yet, I’m the slut flirting with a criminal.”

Toji had you up against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand wrapped around your throat, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to send the right signals.

“You proud of yourself, princess? Yeah? You enjoy riling me up, tryna get a reaction out of me?” Your lips were parted in a silent moan before they morphed into a victorious smirk. Toji barked out a humourless laugh. “Of course you do, this is the reaction you wanted, wasn’t it. You’re a fuckin’ slut princess, a bratty little girl begging to be put in her place. Now, you listen to me, okay? Go and wait for me in your room. You take off that shirt as well, alright?”

His grip on you loosened and he took a few short paces back. You nodded, and his sharp eyes followed you as you walked into your room and waited for him patiently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Toji’s mind was plagued with second thoughts.

On one hand, he knew he had to fuck you the moment he saw you. He was plagued with infatuation and lewd thoughts of all the positions he’d see you in. On the other, this was not what he came here to do. It benefitted him little to fuck you mid-robbery instead of doing what he came here to do and making money off it.

Pacing around your apartment, it took him no more than ten seconds to shove those thoughts away, knowing that you were waiting patiently for him in nothing but your underwear. He scolded himself mentally for getting distracted, dragging a hand frustratedly down his face, before opening your door and leaning against the doorframe. He smirked, taking your figure in and ran his tongue across his lips before beginning to make his way up to you.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your legs pressed together tightly due to the guilt swarming your entire body. You had a boyfriend, what were you doing sat half-naked in front of a man who had just broken into your house.

Toji walked up to you, his footsteps suddenly audible and heavy on your ears. The sound was intimidating, you felt like you couldn’t breathe in the moments that he was walking up to you. Each time the sound of his boots hit the ground, you heard the sound of shouting at you to get out and beg for your boyfriend’s forgiveness for even thinking of committing such a sinful act.

…Yet, your boyfriend had never made the feeling in between your legs so intense. And Toji knew this.

“Your boyfriend don’t make you feel good enough, sweetheart? You gotta fuck a stranger who broke into your house instead?” He cooed, in a wicked and cunning way, like he tried to sound gentle, yet you could only hear the disgusting and lustful thoughts that were rotting his mind.

Nevertheless, you shook your head. You had admitted to the man that broke into your home that your boyfriend can’t even make you come. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you lowered your head in shame.

Disappointed, Toji tutted in disapproval, taking his index finger and placing it under your chin, raising your head to meet his displeased eyes.

“You keep your eyes on mine. You got that, sweetheart?” He chastised. His thumb parted your lips and he slipped it into your mouth, you complied, sucking gently as you nodded at his request, staring up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.

Toji couldn’t believe his luck. How on Earth had he managed to conveniently break into your house? The moment his eyes met yours, his entire life, everything he had worked hard for, everything he cared about suddenly meant nothing. And now, as he watched you take his thumb into your mouth and sucked it whilst keeping eye contact, just like he had asked, he felt this obsession of his magnify by hundreds. He had no clue how he’d ever move on after this - but maybe he didn’t have to.

Just the thought of your (future) ex-boyfriend fumbling so hard made him want to laugh but also kill him for breaking your precious heart. Yet, there was no need to worry, as Toji was here to stitch it back up again and keep it for himself. How could someone be so stupid as to fuck up their chance with you? It confused him, pissed him off, yet excited him all at the same time.

Moving away from you, Toji went to sit in front of your headboard. He signalled for you to come over to him, to which you obeyed with little hesitation.

That's when Toji noticed the conveniently placed mirror in front of your bed. His reflection stared back at him, watching the smirk that invaded his face.

For the most part, your room was bland and messy, having just moved in. Toji couldn’t have thanked you enough for having put up your mirror right in time for him to fuck the life out of you infront of it.

“You put that shit there on purpose? Wanted to watch me fuck ya brains out, princess?” He questioned.

You were on all fours in front of him, one of your soft, smaller hands placed gently over his muscled thigh. Looking up at him, you smirked. You sat up so that you were now on your knees before shrugging at him with the sole purpose of winding him up. He rolled his eyes at you for what felt the one millionth time that night, yet that didn’t stop the genuine smile taking over his features.

He flipped you over with ease, so that you were sitting in between his legs and staring at him through the reflection of the mirror.

Biting your bottom lip, Toji looked at you with eyes devoid of any signs of warmth or amiability, and yet all you could think to do was press your thighs together.

Toji began to kiss down your neck and towards your shoulder, before he got to the strap of your bra. “I don’t think we need this, do we princess?”

A soft moan fell from your lips at the feeling of his voice mumbling against your skin. His hand began to trail further down your body, and as he reached the hem of your panties, he snapped the fabric against your hip. “Or these.” He continued with that same, low voice that reverberated through your skin and sent your mind into a questionable, clouded state. You shook your head in agreement, and lifted your hips up to assist him as he took them off you, tossing them to the side before proceeding to do the same with your bra.

Neither of you wanted to wait any longer, both of you just as desperate as the other to feel one another. “Can I touch you, princess?” He asked, though he could feel himself shaking from holding back.

You could only spew out a mixture of yeses and his name whilst you nodded profusely, desperate for him to please you. And who was he to deny you? Not even a man with more dignity, respect and self restraint than him could say no to someone like you.

Spreading your legs apart, he muttered lowly, “Fuck, princess, look at this pussy, all wet f’me.” You could see him smirking in the reflection of the mirror. Toji released his hold on your legs and grabbed your arms instead, replacing where his hands were previously with your own. “You keep your legs up and spread for me, okay? If they close, I won't be happy, sweetheart. You got that?”

You nodded, keeping your hands on the back of your legs, keeping them open for him. One of his hands snaked around and held onto yours, in order to make sure you didn’t close them. The other, however, ran up and down the fat of your thigh.

It moved across your stomach and past your breasts at a slow, torturous pace. Your pussy was aching and begging for him, for any kind of stimulation yet he carried on with a sinister smirk. Once he had reached your face, he cradled it gently, causing you to look up at him. He captured your lips into a slow kiss, used only as a distraction as the hand over yours moved towards your pussy before he broke away and dipped a harsh finger into your hole. You gasped at the unexpected sensation, so he took the opportunity to shove two of his thick fingers into your mouth.

Gagging slightly at the penetration, you looked up at him with blurry eyes. Your tongue moved around his fingers causing his dick to twitch in his pants. His face morphed into one of fascination and obsession. He couldn’t believe you were letting him fuck you and he’d be damned if he was going to let you go.

Removing his fingers from both your mouth and your pussy, he took the saliva coated fingers and ran them through your, already soaking cunt. You let out an alluring moan as your hips bucked up into his fingers. His other hand, went back to its previous position of helping you keep your legs spread open and up for him.

His fingers dragged through your folds and lightly grazed over your clit resulting in a whimper falling from your lips. “Please put them in.” You asked, voice shaky and whining, not far above a whisper.

“Well, seeing as though you asked so nicely, princess.” The tone of his voice was dripping with sarcasm and laced with mischief.

At once, he shoved two fingers deep inside your aching hole. The unexpectancy of him putting two in caused you to attempt to close your legs whilst you thrashed in his hold, moaning pathetically when he began to pump them slowly.

Taking his spare hand, he slapped your thigh harshly. “The fuck did I tell ya about closing your fucking legs, princess?”

Opening out your legs again, muttering a weak apology, Toji decided that he could no longer trust you to keep them open. Using both of his arms, he kept your legs spread as his fingers were still knuckle-deep inside of your hole.

Now, when you stared up into the mirror, you could see both of Toji’s arms separating your legs from ever touching as one of his hands was preoccupied with bullying your hole and the other was toying with your clit. “Much better, ain’t it princess?” he laughed, his hands relentlessly bringing you closer to your orgasm. “Now, keep these pretty little eyes right on where I'm playing with ya cunt, understand? If you disappoint me again, I won’t be as nice.”

“Mkay Toji, I promise.” Your eyes stared into his, watching his scarred lip curl into a satisfied smile.

“Good girl, now let me play with this slutty pussy of yours.”

He began to kiss down your neck, yet his wicked eyes never left yours. Not even as he began sucking bruises onto your skin, claiming you as his own.

His fingers thrust themselves into you at a relentless pace, desperate to pull your orgasm from you and to make you feel the way he felt from just looking at you.

You couldn’t stop moaning in his hold. The feeling of his thick, long fingers plunging in and out of your aching cunt, reaching places you hadn’t ever been able to reach on your own, sent you spiralling, unable to think about anything other than his quick and skilled fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

Toji was in a trance as he watched his fingers pump into you and he wanted nothing more than to watch you cum on his fingers.

His speed was unforgiving and otherworldly. Never had you felt so full and pleasured just from someone’s fingers, but then again, you had only ever been with your boyfriend who couldn’t even make you come with his dick.

Everything was too much. His thumb on your clit sending sparks through your entire body, his fingers thrusting deep inside of you, the sight of your pussy dripping and his strong arms between your legs in the reflection of the mirror. You couldn’t focus or breathe. It felt so amazing.

Soon, you were coming all over his fingers, your hips lifting in the air as you bucked up into his hand whilst you dripped over your sheets and his hand. You were ninety percent sure you’d never be able to go back to any other man or just your own hand after having a taste of his.

All guilt and regret left your body as you moaned and writhed in his grip.

Toji cursed as he watched your face contort with pleasure and your pussy clench around his fingers. If his cock wasn’t aching to be freed, he was positive he’d finger you like that for the rest of the night.

You collapsed, exhausted, in his arms. As you tried to catch your breath, Toji brought his own fingers to his lips and groaned as he tasted you. “Fuck, princess, I’m gonna have to eat ya out another time, cause fuck do you taste good, but I really need to fuck you right now.”

You laughed, still breathless. “You planning on coming back then?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t plan on leaving you for a moment. You’re mine now, you got that princess?”

Before you could answer, he captures your lips in a kiss, but judging from the approving moan you let out against his lips, you had no issue with being his.

Toji grabbed your hips and lifted you over his lap so that you were now straddling him.

Quickly, you removed his shirt and he was fast to take off his pants as well so that he sat underneath you as naked and vulnerable as you were.

Your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his dick. It was so incredibly long, veiny and thick. The biggest you had ever seen. You were nervous to have him inside of you, but any fear was overshadowed by the immense desire to have him fuck you.

Despite you being on top, Toji had every bit of control. His hands were strong as they gripped securely onto your hips, grinding you against the tip of his dick. You whimpered slightly as your clit grazed his tip, still slightly overstimulated from your previous orgasm. However, this didn’t stop him from shoving his tip inside, causing you to whine slightly and moan out his name.

Slowly, he began to sheath his entire dick inside of you. Your hands reached for his hair and tugged gently.

Once he was fully inside of you, he wasted no time in picking up the pace until he was bouncing on his cock at an unbearable speed.

You felt completely fucked dumb as he bounced you up and down on his dick, your head unable to support itself so you buried it in his shoulder. Your moans and words were fragmented yet loud, unable to keep up with his pace.

Unexpectedly, your phone began to go off, and you both immediately knew who it was. Toji had stopped pummeling his cock in and out of you, causing you to push yourself up to look him in the eye.

“Jus’ ignore it, Toji. I don’t care ‘bout him anymore, just want your dick, please-”

Without warning, Toji flipped you both over. Now, you were underneath him with your leg propped up and his dick back inside of you. His entire demeanour had shifted, as though he had something more to prove despite having said it all already.

Grabbing your phone, he forced you to open it. He was still as he read the messages your soon-to-be ex was sending. His tongue rolled over his teeth in frustration and annoyance, before suddenly he opened up your camera and began to plunge his dick into you at a seemingly faster speed than before with your camera pointed at where his dick met your pussy.

He was only recording for a few seconds before he hit send, silenced your phone and shoved it back onto your bedside table.

You were too fucked-out to argue even if you wanted to. A small fraction of you felt some sort of satisfaction knowing you had gotten your revenge.

The other part of you was simply too focused on the feeling of his dick hitting that same spot within you relentlessly.

Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to bury himself far deeper than before. “Sh-shit! You feel tha, sweetheart? Feel me all deep inside of you, hm?”

You could barely form a coherent response other than a loud whine followed by: “So fuckin deep, Toji!”

His hair was sticking to his forehead as he stared at you through half lidded eyes. He adored this expression on your face and he adored the fact that he was the one causing it even more, so much so, that he was so close to falling off the edge.

“Gonna cum, princess.”

All it took was the feeling of you coming around his cock, your tight pussy squeezing him even tighter, sucking him in and reluctant to let him go, for him to pull out and finish over your chest, covering you in his cum.

This time, it was his phone that he grabbed from his trouser pockets from the side of your bed that he snapped a photo with, before he collapsed next to you.

Both of you were heaving, struggling to find your breaths.

Strenuously, you reached over to grab your phone from the bedside table.

23 new messages.

You looked over at Toji, exasperated. “You just had to send him a video, didn’t you.”

Typing a quick I don’t want to be with you anymore message before hitting the block button, you dropped your phone somewhere carelessly before turning to face his smug expression.

“If it wasn’t for me, he’d be the one fuckin’ you right now, princess, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

Laughing, you replied. “If it wasn’t for you breaking into my apartment, you mean. Oh, and by the way, I want my stuff back. Including my underwear that I saw in your pocket.”

For the first time, Toji’s face showed an expression that wasn’t cold and disdainful as he laughed at your remark.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: this shit is almost 5k omg and i dont even like toji. toji hater until the day i die however i'd pay to suck him off.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

#fanfic #smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #female reader #x reader #🌙 jujutsu kaisen

1K notes · View notes