#hes very sweet and he loves his nephews very much
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@fraymotiif fo yo fren
At first, the twins alternated between following him everywhere like Duckletts that accidentally imprinted on a Seadra and skittishly disappearing behind walls or corners the moment he tried to turn towards them.
Figuring out the steps of the dance they were tentatively leading around him was proving to be a bit of a careful balancing act, one he wasn’t quite used to - at least not to this degree. Marshal had been awfully frightened by him when he’d first met him too, after all, but he was three years old; the boys were fifteen, almost sixteen by now, and yet they still behaved like toddlers interacting with someone they know only vaguely.
Touch was far from a problem, that was certain: as soon as they’d figured out they could lean onto him whenever they wanted they had no trouble holding onto his arms or bumping into him so that he’d ruffle their hair.
The trouble seemed to start from their room.
They were horribly nervous about anything and everything that could have been inside of it - although he knew it couldn’t be much, let alone anything to be embarassed or secretive about, since most of their belongings he’d already seen when they’d emptied their backpacks and they’d really been barely more than the bare necessities.
Drayden knew better than to snoop around in a Dragon’s den uninvited, so he would let them sit there for hours on their own, doing who knew what.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. But he couldn’t really just ask them.
He’d tried!
The answer had been a couple uncoordinated shrugs and a quick ‘nothing’ meant to distance him.
In the end, he supposed the only way to find that out would have been for them to decide to make him participant to whatever they did back in there and simply tell him upfront by themselves.
“You can’t!”
“Why not? What’s so wrong about it?”
“You can’t! You can’t!”
Or for them to argue loud enough, that too.
“If you just repeat that I can’t understand what the wrong part is!” this was Ingo.
“You can’t!” and this was Emmet. “It messes it up! Messes everything up!”
“What does it mess up?”
“Eelektrik!”
Ah - that explained why he was so upset; he loved that levitating lamprey almost as much as his brother, or trains. He adored parading it over his shoulders like a sentient scarf, and once or twice Drayden had even seen him fearlessly hold that terrible mouth close to his face as he slept, without a single worry.
“Oh, well, of course it messes him up. That’s the point.”
“You can’t do that!”
It seemed weird that Ingo would want to hurt his younger twin’s ace, though.
Unless it was a matter of battling, in which case he would have definitely run that poor thing over without hesitation or second thoughts.
“Yes I can!”
“You can’t! You can’t!”
“Yes I can! It’s a strategy like any other!”
“It’s not! It’s not! This one it’s not!”
“You just say that because it's really powerful and it neutralizes your favorite!”
“Yes!”
Drayden’s citrine eyes fell through the crack of the slightly opened door: he caught a glimpse of the heavily scribbled page of a notebook, red and green ink all over the paper, upon a stark white black-lined background between folded legs that were clearly getting more and more agitated as the squabble went on.
“Something the matter, boys?” he asked as he knocked gently.
The door slid open a little bit at that. He barely had the time to peek through that the notebook was gone, spirited away with a slight of hand that maybe wasn’t particularly graceful but certainly honed by practice.
Both twins, sitting half hunched and crosslegged on the beds they’d pushed together as they often did, turned to him with near matching innocent expressions, honestly surprised by his appearance but feigning ignorance. They raised their chins at him in tandem in a silent candid question.
“Thought I’d heard you arguing,” Drayden explained.
Emmet shrugged - a fluid motion that shook his arms outwards.
“We were just reading,” Ingo replied, straining his voice into sounding calm as he patted a large book of their on the history of trains in Sinnoh.
Hm. They probably used that as a desk.
The man shook his head lightly, playing a little into their pantomime: “Then I must be getting old and hearing things. You sounded like you were discussing battle strategies,” and before they could startle he changed his tone to reassure them of whatever they were worried about: “If that were the case, I would have been happy to help you figure them out.”
He looked at the twins a little longer, waiting as it dawned on them that he was, indeed, a Gym Leader, and asking him for help on the topic would have, indeed, made sense, while hiding it away from him very much did not.
They retreated a little sheepish into their own shoulders.
Finally the eldest shyly pulled out the battered notebook from beneath himself and presented it to their uncle, who carefully entered their domain to take a seat by them in the way one tiptoes their uninvited way through the den of a very disgruntled mothering Hydreigon.
“We were, uhm... We were planning our teams,” the boy showed him, pointing at his narrow red calligraphy and his twin’s blockier green handwriting.
Two mirrored columns divided in six rows were compiled with a few Pokémon names, other spaces instead left blank; two more had a label above them which read ‘type’, followed by another couple labeled as ‘ability’, then another pair bearing the sign of ‘item’, and finally much larger two meant to house the party member’s moveset. It was an incredibly meticulous job, Drayden noted with his fair share of marvel.
“You’re real thorough,” he nodded thoughtfully.
Emmet smiled, very much proud of their work; Ingo cleared his throat, adjusting his seat a little to try and not let his fluster show: “And we - and we got to, to this point here - see? This slot here. I was - I thought, I wanted to get - uhm...”
“Earthquake,” Drayden read aloud: “A powerful move.”
Embarassed by his stuttering, Ingo just nodded.
“Paired with... Mold Breaker? For an ability?” his uncle continued with an encouraging tone: “That’s a very good combination.”
“He can’t use it,” Emmet instantly butted in, very piqued.
His brother snapped out of his mortification to glare daggers at him: “Yes I can,” he rebutted.
“No!” and he threw a pen at the elder.
Drayden caught it inn midair without thinking, handing it back over to Emmet: “And why can’t he?”
“Because he can’t!”
“He’s just mad that it would put Eelektrik on the ground to get quaked.”
"Eelektrik has no weaknesses! I want him to keep having no weaknesses!”
“An opponent with Gastro Acid could do the same thing,” their uncle noted.
“But they’d waste a turn!” the younger whined: “Maybe they wouldn’t have Ground moves. Or Eelektrik could paralyze them. Or K.O. them. Mold Breaker is instant! It’s not fair.”
“It’s plenty fair!” Ingo argued.
“It’s cheap!”
“No it’s not, it’s a good strategy!”
“Cheap!”
“Boys.”
They both immediately fell quiet.
He ruffled their hair to reassure them he was not mad at them; they leaned against his palms.
“There’s surely plenty of ways to counter that, or at least minimize the damage,” Drayden said, watching Emmet pout and huff as he validated the fairness of Ingo’s plan. “I should have a Fraxure around your partners’ level who’s just the gal for this. We can try out some counters with her right now, how’s that sound?”
“Oh!” the eldest startled a little. He searched for his brother’s matching surprised eyes: “Right - right now?”
“I mean, if you have time.”
“No, it’s--”
“We need to plan,” the youngest explained.
Their uncle furrowed his brows, puzzled: “Plan what?”
“Counters!”
“We can’t battle if we - if we don’t figure out how to do something first.”
“We need to plan.”
“Otherwise we’ll end up failing and losing, and we’d have to start over again.”
“Yup.”
“It’s to save time.”
“Yup.”
Save time... Save time...
Drayden tilted his head: “Save time for what?”
“For battling.” Emmet repeated.
Ingo twisted the pen in his hand: “We don’t get many occasions.”
Well... As open-minded as he might have been, that sounded a little silly.
It really wasn’t the hardest thing in the world, trying to find someone to train with. There were plenty of over-enthusiastic juvenile trainers running about cities and routes, anxious for any chance at a good battle against anybody who happened to meet their impatient eyes - as a matter of fact, he was fairly certain that if they’d taken a stroll down the park instead of staying cooped up in their room it wouldn’t have taken long at all for them to find an opponent each. Hell, if they spent just thirty minutes there they would probably get their schedules all filled out with battledates from other eager kids.
Were they scared of something? Or were they just particularly sore losers? The younger might have, with how fussy about Eelektrik he was. He could understand not wanting to see a favorite defeated, but acting like that wasn’t going to do him any favours if he was looking to become a gym leader.
Why would he want to be a gym leader. He never mentioned anything about wanting to be a gym leader. Why did he think that. This wasn’t the time to think about successors. Stop that. Bad Drayden. Bad.
“So you two haven’t found a moment to practice at all till now?” he asked.
The twins held his gaze for a moment as their heads timidly retreated into their shoulders like those of Tirtougas before their eyes fell on the bedsheets.
It took him another moment for it to click.
Ah.
His sister had always been fairly irritable when it came to battling, after all.
Of course she’d dictate whether or not they’d be allowed to best her.
Or even at least try to.
And he didn’t really know what that hack of her husband was like, but certainly he wasn’t a shining example of fairness either.
He clapped his wide hands gently, quietly, just to get the boys’ attention back on himself: “Well,” he commented in a jovial tone, “I reckon you should have all the time you might need to do what you want nowadays, wouldn’t you say?”
He looked at the words being processed in real time on the twins’ faces.
A moment more...
Oh.
Oh! Yes.
Yes, they did.
They could practice, now.
Whenever they wanted. Or almost, at least - there would be times when they wouldn’t, due to force majeure, like homework or meals or sleeping or other things, but - they could practice. They could train.
Whenever they wanted.
“You should get some exercise yourselves too,” Drayden noted, “You’re all skin and bones, poor knuckerlings. But nothing some wrassling and good food can’t fix. I can help with that too, don’t worry.”
“Too?” Ingo repeated. “As- as in you - we can, we could train our Pokémon with you? Too?”
“Wrassle?” echoes instead Emmet. “We wrassle?”
“Yes one and yes two.”
If they’d been a little meatier, they would have tackled him right off the bed and into a possible concussion on the floor with that hug. So on one hand, good; on the other, since he barely even budged, he needed to start scheduling regular sessions for them as soon as possible. With the first one today, hopefully.
He picked them both up effortlessly, their langly legs dangling a few inches from the floor: “So! You wanna try out some of those counters now?”
His ears rung for a hot second from their response.
“And then we wrassle you?” the younger insisted.
“Sweet Dragons, not me! I’d knock you clean out!” their uncle replied, hoisting them up on his shoulders like sacks of flour so he could fetch their notebook and Pokéballs while they dangled up there safe from danger: “Fraxure’s gonna show you the basics!”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” the eldest argued.
“If it were, I don’t think the Lophiris family would’ve survived as long as we did!”
#pokémon#pokemon black and white#drayden pokemon#submas ingo#submas emmet#random writing#AUGH FINALLY ITS OVER#this was requested of me. 4-5 days ago and it was a simple thing and i couldnt finish it and its been driving me up the WALL#anyways uncle drayden headcanon my fucking beloved. my gentle batshit giant#casually mentions the timeless family tradition of hurling dragons like nobodys business for fun and fitness and general bonding#hes very sweet and he loves his nephews very much#they lov him too
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weed vs coke
#hi stefan! he doesn't do coke#he just drinks and takes his anti-depressants together#i am very much feeling his spikey hair like yeah that fits him being a touch unhinged yuka fell in love with that version of him#this is nick dad they alike#he's my fav#he kinda looks like robert if you stare at him long enough....from fallout 4 my favorite video game husband#his voice is deep as hell and he's polish#hates his father for a good reason is the favorite child oldest of five#has two kids because he counts kina as his daughter#the fun uncle#to his neices and nephews he'll give you a beer if you ask#on a serious note he's a very decent dad he wished he could've been a better dad but he's got a lot of stuff going on mentally so he was a#little checked out alot of the time but it got better.#he and kina relationship is my favorite because he really took in two kids at his lowest point in his life from his ex girlfriend who#lived halfway across the country and kinda fucked him over and up and never really got to connect to his kid much until nick was damn near#and he got a random baby girl to look after and he thrived with her honestly kina be like i got two dads#hes a sweet person just been through the wringer a lot#ts4#simblr#sims 4#my sims#stefan piotrowski
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ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !
୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)
୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.
୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧
you have thirty days to get married.
being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.
if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy.
you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head.
except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.
you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.
satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne.
especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation.
how ridiculous is that?
and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for.
it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes.
alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.
all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).
suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too.
if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever quitting him.
you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it.
the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.
perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?
why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?
your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you.
“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on.
before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see.
except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party.
you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose.
“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.”
he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin.
satoru gojo belongs on his knees.
kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you. mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties.
there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress.
instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown.
but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !
juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark.
“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand.
he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…”
you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be.
“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin.
the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick.
“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull.
the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did.
shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.
your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time.
he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune.
“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess.
he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.
but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda.
you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time.
dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.
“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.”
“f-fuck you.”
“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.
his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies.
“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt.
nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“
you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.”
the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible.
like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.”
with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé.
yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls.
“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.”
satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”
“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“
you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.
but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.”
he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth.
“sato—!”
“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”
that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.
shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!”
you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.
“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru.
thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth.
he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.”
you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!”
“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”
the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth.
your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either. his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again.
he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with.
it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.
“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”
the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.
the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.
lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place.
your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.
“so about—“
“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic.
for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring.
he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—
“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”
“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”
“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”
throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.”
“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.”
you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold.
the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo.
but the entire time, you never look back.
you don’t even look at gojo — and that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd.
the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#jjk smut#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x y/n#gojo thirst#jjk thirsts#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#angelshubnetwork
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The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing
Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader
Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.
Words: 2650
Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now.
Part 2
When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.
Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you.
You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter.
“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about.
No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter.
Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.
“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.
Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine.
“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.
The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”
You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward.
You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed.
“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.
When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long?
A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb.
“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”
You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”
He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.
You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.
“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:
“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.
His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.
“Have you done this before?”
You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours.
“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”
You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving.
Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.”
He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.
“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.
He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you.
But it was a choice that had its repercussions.
All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.
That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time.
So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?
In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace.
Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death.
When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.
With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.
“Are you well?”
You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.
Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room.
“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says.
You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky.
“We have matters to discuss.”
Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.
“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”
You sigh. “What?”
“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”
Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”
“Paul–”
“Does he love you?”
It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”
“He survived his wounds,” Paul says.
The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him.
You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.
“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?”
The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.
You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.”
You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him.
You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth.
So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.
As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”
Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”
You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off.
“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.
“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”
You freeze.
“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”
Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame.
“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”
In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room.
“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#dune part 2#austin butler#feyd x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune#dune movie
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I can't help but think of...
A Foreign Yandere that's transferred schools, to your school, only to kidnap you for his dark desires.
A Foreign Yandere that takes you back to his country after deciding you're his darling.
A Foreign Yandere that has a family encouraging him to wed you then impregnate you right away.
A Foreign Yandere that shushes you to sleep while wiping your tears away. He always whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
A Foreign Yandere that makes sweet love to you when you're a good girl and treats you like trash when you try to escape.
A Foreign Yandere that keeps abusing your pretty pussy with his fingers in the mornings.
A Foreign Yandere that smiles at your adorable confused face when his family and himself speak in their mother tongue. He can't help but want to place you on his lap and feed you.
A Foreign Yandere that keeps you by his side constantly, and when you're not, he has his dogs watching you.
A Foreign Yandere that has three beaucerons or dobermans he's been training to trail his beloved wife and uses your clothes to have them identify you as said wife.
A Foreign Yandere that ends up having to physically remove his own dogs from his own bed to sleep next to his own wife. He's all ready been working all day, and now he has more hard labor to do?! Oh, you better be ready to give him something in return!
A Foreign Yandere that eats you while you sleep, listening to the cute moans that send pleasurable tingles down his spine.
A Foreign Yandere that comes home one day and discovers you getting along with his mother and sisters.
A Foreign Yandere that can't wait to spoil you senseless once knowing you won't run away from him.
A Foreign Yandere that buys you everything you never needed and then some. He even splurges when buying food.
A Foreign Yandere that is very possessive. So much so, it takes your hand on his thigh and a sincere promise of spending quality time in the hot tub to quell his anger.
A Foreign Yandere that reinforces your promise and has you skinny dip instead.
A Foreign Yandere that refuses to stop fucking you, even when his older siblings walk by.
A Foreign Yandere that doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to your pleasure.
A Foreign Yandere that likes watching you play with his nieces and nephews.
A Foreign Yandere that's waiting to see you glow from pregnancy and to see you hold his child in your arms.
A Foreign Yandere that would spoil you and his child silly. He wouldn't just let you have all the fun with your newborn.
A Foreign Yandere that makes a great son, brother, uncle, husband and now father since you and your child have been added to the family.
A Foreign Yandere that smirks in satisfaction when you walk down the aisle, pregnant again, on your wedding day. He just can't take his eyes off you! And how could he when he has you as his beautiful bride and the wonderful mother of his children?
A Foreign Yandere that knows you won't try escaping him any longer when you've had his children and became his wife.
A Foreign Yandere that whispers his dream of having a house full of children that only his lovely little foreign wife can give him.
*sigh*
I just can't stop daydreaming about a Foreign Yandere.
#yandere#yandere smut#yandere x female reader#male yandere#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#yandere imagines#yandere aesthetic#yandere x darling#yandere male#foreign yandere
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guys… i have aunty fever.
okay but like imagine being married to or dating sukuna, right? and the first time he introduces you to baby/toddler yuuji he becomes your best friend. never wants to leave your arms, always loves cuddles, will be your shadow while you’re doing things round the house. you’re attached at the hip from that very first moment.
and kuna both loves and hates it 😭. loves it mostly because he doesn’t have to deal with yuuji’s shenanigans all day. hates it because whenever he tries to kiss you or offer any sort of affection, yuuji comes running to put himself between you both with the grumpiest frown ever 🤣. he’ll mumble out something like “no, my aunty.” and hug your leg while trying to push his uncle away.
it’s a constant battle, especially because yuuji takes up all of kuna’s you-time 😂. watching a movie? yuuji’s there using your lap as a headrest. taking a nap? yuuji’s nestled right up against your chest. cooking in the kitchen? you’ve got yuuji perched on your hip or up in the baby wrap/baby sling. and kuna would swear up and down that yuuji — the sweet darling angel that he is — knows exactly what he’s doing. swears that he’s got some sinister plan to steal you away — he’s joking, mostly.
he should honestly be blaming himself because he’s been terrorising his nephew since he was born. his latest stunt? he found an old halloween mask that’d been sitting in the back of y’all’s closet since last year, put it on and decided to chase yuuji around the house with it.
“i’m gonna eat you!” is what you hear before a very distressed little human comes sprinting around the corner screaming, his uncle in tow. and so yuuji races to hide behind you, arms hooking between your legs for safety even as he’s still crying. but still kuna tries to reach for him and so you have to step in and unmask your monster of a man to save your hearing.
i think the other thing is how much you spoil yuuji. like cute little aunty (uncle can come too) and nephew dates. you’d be twinning with your outfits sometimes. go out to the zoo. the park. ice cream. the beach. the aquarium. sometimes kuna questions who’s child that really is — yours or his brother’s? — with how much time the two of you spend together.
it probably secretly gives him baby fever. if you’re this good with his nephew then he can only imagine how it would all go with a baby of your own.
he wants to see it one day. when you’re both ready.
#⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ pooh’s rambling again ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹#okay this was a lot longer than I thought it was gonna be#but it was stuck in my head#so i thought I’d share#🥰#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#uncle sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk spoilers#jjk fluff#drabble#fluff#jjk sukuna#jujutsu sukuna
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Cumming Home for Christmas
synopsis: Simon surprised you by being home 3 weeks early, which means you get to take him to your family’s Christmas get together! Unfortunately, Simon hasn’t had his fill of you… How thin do you think the walls are in the bathroom?
content: Afab, porn w a plot, smut (dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, quickie, slightly public? maybe other stuff idk) fluff fluff fluff kind of angst if you squint real hard he just loves you sm my sweet Angel babey reader muah love u 2
word count: 3.7k
notes: Don’t ask me why I chose Christmas this is purely self-indulgent. Also, he’s a brunette going off of the comics, so I’m running with that thx!
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Warm Christmas lights, sparkling ciders and the expensive alcohol, the soft hum of cozy Christmas jazz on the speakers, family buzzing and soaking in each other’s presence - there was nothing else you could ask for. In this massive sea of black and red formal attire, your family, both close and extended, came together for an amazing holiday party at your grandparents’ estate.
Simon, who surprised you by coming home over three weeks early, has accompanied you as your plus one to the family’s holiday party. It made the event even better. Your family adored Simon to bits and pieces, constantly embarrassing you in front of him, begging to know when he wanted to start a family with you, your aunts drinking too much and asking him to take off his coat and flex. He dealt with the melting pot of clashing personalities better than you had ever imagined.
Simon expertly handled the socializing carefully and precisely. He preferred to be an observer in these bigger settings rather than to speak. He gave simple answers that were concise one liners, saving his social battery. So, to make up for it, he would escape to assist anybody needing aid. When dinner was ready, he assisted in the kitchen, making sure that everybody had their meals first, and was later caught cleaning the kitchen (much to your displeasure). He also helped light your grandfather’s cigar outside. The Parkinson’s has been making it difficult for him to light them on his own, and Simon even listened to an old war story.
It was unbelievable how much you loved this man.
Now, nieces and nephews weaved between adults and furniture, the fireplace burned hot and strong, people laughed and yelled happily over the gentle music, and the scent of baking pies and pastries wafted and filled the air. Your lovely military fiancé, overworked and tired on his break, did so well to deal with this. Of course, Simon, being an incredibly selfless person willing to compromise in any situation or scenario just to make you happy, said that it was alright when you invited him. “Nothing would make me happier,” he had said in a low, roughened voice - which was right before he buried his face between your legs.
But I digress.
Simon stood next to you as your uncle told you both in absolute monotony about his recent trip to Italy, “So beautiful. Your aunt Amelia and I want to get a vacation home there.” He finished, and you nodded awkwardly. “Sounds like you and aunt Millie had a great time, uncle Mike.” Your tone was dry while Simon nodded and hummed in response. He just wasn’t… very present.
Simon had his attention and focus set on pretty high at the beginning of the night, but he was able to relax a little bit since then, to let himself just be in the moment - or so the psychiatrist says he should. He was actively paying attention to the conversation, yes that is true, but the hand holding your waist began to… wander, a little bit. Slowly at first, but much faster now. With a hand that started on your shoulder in the beginning of the night, bit by bit lowered down your back, smoothing above the top of your ass and to your hip. Fingers pressing deep into the black velvet of your dress, Simon tried to keep you caged next to him. That didn’t matter though, because you would have done little to resist him.
You two shared a quick glance. His dark brown eyes were slightly glossed, his gaze a salaciousness that he always brings home. Ooh, it made you want to rub your thighs together just to feel something. You nodded again to your uncle Mike when he brought up something else that was equally boring. Simon, having a better idea and use for his time, suddenly seemed to have remembered something, “Apologies, Mike, but Y/N and I have to make an important phone call.” You looked up at him.
That brief look in his eye was so, so hungry. The greed brewed like a dark storm. You felt a hot chill race down your spine, your core began to burn. You acted as if you remembered the same ‘something’ as well. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we almost forgot!” You gasped in a low voice. His fingers squeezed your hip, making your chest slowly fall into shallow breaths as you could imagine him purring in your ear.
Good girl.
You two waved him off as you turned to leave the kitchen. Simon took the wine glass from your hand and placed it on the countertops as you two walked through the doorway. His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you into the dark hallway. The armoire in the middle lit with warm candles that smelled of cinnamon and spiced apples, casting shadows that bounced and flickered across the walls. It helped light your way to the restroom, but it also kept you two enveloped in shadows to help hide whatever sins you were going to commit. Simon, without a word, opened the bathroom, and with nobody inside, he sweeped you in, locking the door behind you two.
The bathroom had warm string lights strung across the crown molding, and a window with fake candles sat high on the wall. The room was a little loud with the echoes, so you smacked the switch on the wall to turn the fan on, hoping to mask whatever sounds were going to flood the room.
Not even a second, in such a calculated move, Simon plucked his mask off and had your lips locked with his as he hoisted you onto the sink counter. All you could do in that flurry of movement was gasp, his hands gingerly holding your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing as you felt a hardened tent in his trousers press eagerly against your clothed cunt.
You ran your hands through his dark brown hair, a moan running from you into him as his hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze. He ground his hips into you, pulling a whimper from you as he pressed roughly against your thrumming clit. Simon broke from your mouth, kissing your neck as his fingers pushed up into your dress, grabbing your panties.
“Quiet - or they’ll hear us,” he whispered against your flesh. You panted with a nod as he slipped your panties off, tossing them onto the floor along with his jacket. Simon quickly unbuttoned his white sleeves, rolling them up to reveal his heavily veined forearms, his one arm tattooed with black. He expertly undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slightly, his hardened cock springing free.
He kept kissing your neck, lightly sucking to tease but not enough to hickey or bruise. His fingers dipped into your embarrassingly wet sex, rubbing at your clit and folds before pushing two fingers into you. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, so wet already.” His voice was a growl against your neck, slowly pumping them, his fingers rubbing up against that spongy spot inside.
It caused you to mewl. Simon’s one hand jumped to cup your mouth shut, making you gasp. The movement threw you off balance, your upper back falling back to press against the mirror while grabbing onto his wrist for support. He continued to finger you and hold your mouth closed, your whimpers mumbled in his hand.
Just as quick as you just started grinding your hips, he pulled his fingers away. A disappointed moan left broken up between your mouth and his palm. Simon grabbed his cock and started to pump himself, lubricating it with your juices before rubbing against your clit. He moved his hand from your mouth down to your hip.
You whimpered, “Oh my god, Simon.” Your hips wriggled and bucked against the dizzying sensation. He chuckled, slowly pressing his cock into your hot, wet cunt. The familiar stretch made you hum in need. “You’re gonna tease me? On Christmas?” You whined, your legs once again wrapped around his hips, urging him to sink into you.
“Ahh, have you been a good girl, though?” He asked in a low rumble, his other hand grabbing the other hip, his prepared stance making your hole clench around his member. He had a half-lidded stare, swirling with a level of lust you couldn’t really see the end of - bottomless and ravenous. Simon towered over you.
“I’m always a good girl for you, Simon,” You cooed.
He slowly pushed in, making you inhale sharply as you stretched so wide to allow him to fit. You held your breath as he pushed his cock through. “I’m just teasing, love - I know you’ll always be my good girl,” he said with warmth in his voice.
His tip kissed your cervix as he nestled fully, deeply, completely. Your head rolled back on the mirror as a satisfied sigh escaped you, but Simon’s grip on your hips tightened intensely. You gasped as he began a fast pace, his hips slapping loudly against your thighs and echoing in the bathroom. It was almost too much. It gave you little time to prepare for his entering, but you settled nicely around him after a few more thrusts.
Simon wasn’t normally this fast. He loved to hit with hard strokes, but nothing typically of this pace. Fortunately, you weren’t one to complain. It was so goddamn good. You hate it when your fiancé is away, not knowing where he was for most of the time, but when he’s gone for so long and comes back? Fuck. It’s criminal how good the sex is. His impatience made it impeccable.
But you were desperate. You wanted to cry and moan and yell, to beg and pray for him to bring you to a higher plane of pleasure. Oh, God, you would do anything for it, anything for him. You grasped at his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving stinging crescent moon shaped imprints in their path. He groaned lightly at your sharp grip, a soft chuckle coming from him. “Oh, you like this?” He asked, and you nodded, biting your lower lip to keep anything but your gasps, pants, and squeaks from escaping.
“Touch yourself,” his voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a demand.
With one hand still on Simon’s arm, the other moved to your clit, and you began to rub in quick circles. Simon watched your face twist and change: your mouth hanging open as you panted, but occasionally closed to bite your lip so to stop yourself from moaning; eyes half-lidded, barely open, glazed, and painfully horny; back bowing and arching, your toes curling, body just at a loss at what it can handle. This was Simon’s favorite view in the world. It’s what he came home for. It’s what he fought for.
A moan tumbled from your mouth as you held on for dear life. “S-Simon!” You whined his name, the heat inside of you burning red hot, uncontrolled, and rampant.
“S’alright love,” his voice was soft, “you gonna cum?”
You nodded quickly, the fingers on your clit stuttering as you found your release fast approaching, his almost brutal pace not slowing in the slightest. “I’m gonna c- ah- cum, Simon!” You struggled not to say too loud. “Don't stop!”
“Come on, Y/N,” he ushered, “cum for me.” Simon knew how to drive you over the edge. His hand reached out, firmly but gently cupping over your mouth to keep your head in place - and to push back your lascivious sounds.
A moan found itself trapped, lodged in your throat as you fought with your whole might not to yell and cry out. Your orgasm ripped through and crashed over you like a tsunami. He had unraveled you.
Your back arched, and you couldn’t roll your head back. Your lashes flickered as you struggled to keep your eyes from crossing or rolling back to look at Simon while you came. The fingers you had on your clit stopped moving as you were paralyzed, but the grip you had on his forearm stayed strong, “Ahhh, fuckin’ look at you. That’s a good girl, cummin’ nice and pretty on my cock. You like that, yeah?” He groaned, hips putting in more power to drill into your tightened pussy, tears pricking at your eyes as the orgasm left your legs shaking around him.
Simon retracted his hand, grabbing back at your hip. You let out a quick, small cry as your free hand held back onto his forearm. “Y’alright, love?” He grunted, and you nodded furiously before he could stop, but he started slowing down. You didn’t want him too. “Need- I need you,” you gasped, “don’t stop, Simon.” You whimpered.
Oh, to be buried deep inside your pussy was all he could have ever hoped for upon coming home. Y/N, ever so kind and giving. Simon tightened his hands around your hips again and began the brutal pace as you struggled to keep silent.
That’s when you felt your body heating up again. Your sex thrummed with the building pleasure and excitement once more, causing you to moan while you held onto his wrists. A light sheen of sweat sat on your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your flesh.
Simon moaned softly with a smirk, your fucked out expression and legs lazily clinging onto his hips was such an amazing sight. The snapping of him against you had beat your pussy red, leaving it angrily aroused. “You gonna cum again? Yeah? Ahhh, thas my needy girl.” Desperate, tiny grunts popped out of you with each thrust, your pussy swallowing Simon deeply.
“Si-Simon! Gonna- c-cum!” You gasped out with each pump. 
Your orgasm hit like a rapid flash of heat and pleasure. A squeal escaped you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back, legs around Simon’s waist tightened, your whole body trembled from his unrelenting pace. Your face was flushed red, eyes completely glazed and lost as your hair stuck to your face.
“Ah, f-fuck, so fuckin’ tight. So good - my girl is so good, God, cummin’ on my cock, just like that.” He growled, his hips slowly beginning to fall off rhythm while his orgasm began to creep up on him.
You moaned and begged, “Ah, Simon, nngh, I-I can’t- please cum!”
“Don’t you worry, g-gonna cum inside this pretty pussy,” Simon groaned, “gonna fill you up, yeah?”
You nodded furiously as your body screamed in overstimulation. “Please, I- ah! Too much, ah, you’re too much, Simon!” You cried out, your ever tightening cunt being stretched open, begging for his release.
“Y/N- Y/N, fuck!” He hissed as his hips slammed against you, tightly holding his cock against your cervix as if he was threatened to be ripped away. He groaned, emptying himself into you completely, his cock jerking and flexing harshly, making the veins on his shaft more pronounced. You whimpered, your cunt tensing around him as you felt hot waves shooting inside of you. He stayed for a moment while panting, his thighs shaking slightly, relishing in the feeling as oxytocin and dopamine flooded his brain. Simon pulled out, a throaty groan leaving you at the sudden emptiness, your legs letting go of him.
“Well… let’s hope nobody heard that.” Simon said in a low voice, pulling up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt and grabbing your panties for you. You slid off of the sink and inhaled sharply as your knees buckled. He immediately latched onto your arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, y’alright?” He asked, slowly loosening his grip to make sure you were okay on your own.
“My legs, Simon. Jesus Christian Christ - I can’t stand.” You huffed, leaning against the sink, glowering at him as you took your panties from his hand, embarrassed.
He unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them. “You’re really gonna talk like that? On Jesus’ birthday?” He looked at you as he grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. “What would your nan say, hmm?” He feigned sincerity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he swung the jacket on.
“Well, the jokes on you because Christmas isn’t even Jesus’ birthday.” You snapped back at him, slowly sliding your underwear on as your knees shook like a newborn giraffe. He tutted in disapproval as he moved up to you.
Simon’s body was close, his body radiating warmth. He wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, which was alright, so when he took the time to be attentive to you… you always melted against him immediately. His finger lightly hooked under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Your body subconsciously gravitated towards him, like a moth seeing the moon for the very first time.
He leaned down, lips brushing so close to yours, your eyes still connected . “Fuck what day it really is - I just know I’m home.” Simon pushed in for a deep kiss, brimming with emotions, the kinds he couldn’t really say. As he pulled away, he couldn’t help but admire you.
The golden candlelight fluttered across his face. His tired but warm eyes studied you, as if seeing you for the first time, memorizing and mapping every freckle, wrinkle, and spot, because he’s scared that the moment he looks away, he’ll forget. He took in your flushed, messy appearance as if God himself sent down a heavenly body to give him a reason not just to fight, but to live; an angel on its mission as a guide, and he would willingly martyr himself on the ground at your feet if it meant he could just hear you say his name. Once.
Simon wanted to say these things, but he wouldn’t. He might never. But that’s alright, too. Not everyone is meant to love so boldly.
You cocked an eyebrow as he stared at you so intensely. “You okay there, Lieutenant?” You asked, a small smile on your lips.
He realized that, yes, it was alright that he didn’t say those things. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have to - you just knew. Everyday he thought about how he didn’t deserve you. You, ever so loyal and strong. You’ve given him a purpose, motive, after all of these years - alone.
He often wondered what he had done to deserve having someone like you in his life. Someone who loved and cultivated, with hands of soft mercy, so tender and kind. A voice of validation, honesty, reason, all stemming from your unconditional love. If he had met you years ago, before the therapy and psychiatry helped, he would’ve let your fingers prick and bleed as you grasped at his thorns while he plucked you of your petals, leaving you broken and bare.
He didn’t deserve you.
Simon returned the smile, his voice soft, “Never better.” His hands moved to hold your waist as you two shared a few more kisses. “You know I like it when you call me that,” he hummed in between the lip locking.
You moaned gently and teasingly bit his bottom lip, your hands pressing against and gliding up his shirt. You kissed his jawline and sighed, “Is that so, Lieutenant Riley?”
He squeezed your waist in a warning. “Careful, love, we don’t have time for round two. Save it for tonight.” Your pussy purred just as Simon pulled away, picking up the mask from the sink and putting it back on in an attempt to obscure his identity.
You hummed, legs still a little shaken. “Well, I might need a minute to get my feet under me. You… okay with managing my family alone?” You asked hesitantly, eyes slightly squinting as if to flinch. He studied you for a moment, eyes glancing you up and down. It made you a little self-conscious, causing you to shift.
“Of course, Y/N,” his tone was reassuring, and subtly professional, “you sure you want me to leave you? Just say the word, love.”
Your body relaxed a little, and you nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
Simon faltered, if for a moment, before he gave you a soft squeeze on the arm, and left. You sighed, turning to lean onto the counter and fix your hair in the mirror. Your legs really were shaking, much to your surprise. Yes, yes, Simon makes you shake plenty, but he doesn’t always fuck that hard, if rarely. You couldn’t be more embarrassed. Sending your fiancé, who is not the biggest people-person, back to the wolves, but it’d be more embarrassing if you walked out there in your current state.
You fixed your dress and made sure you were able to stand properly again after a few minutes. Making sure your hair, makeup, and dress were all still together, you left the bathroom with caution. You quietly snuck down the hallway, back against the wall. You got to the doorway and peeked around the corner to peer into the party.
You don’t know how long you were in the bathroom for as the crowd surprisingly died down. Family members left for home, hotels, or whatever bedrooms your grandparents had available, so the end-of-the-night afterparty was intimate and calm. You inched into the room, eyes falling on Simon, who was outside with your grandfather, lighter in his hand.
You smiled gingerly as your mother called you over. “Sweetie, everybody loves Simon. I know he isn’t much of a talker, or a hugger, but he made a great impression.” Her voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “He also listens to your grandfather’s stories, bless his heart.” She cooed. Your mother continued to speak, but her voice drowned out as you watched your future husband.
Simon stood at ease, with his hands held together and relaxed behind him as your grandfather engaged him in a story, puffing his cigar shakily as his hands trembled while he was animated. It was so calm and serene, watching him nod, the ghost of his jawline moving beneath the mask as he spoke. Your heart fluttered as Simon’s eyes flicked over and locked onto you, giving a little wink before turning his attention back to the present conversation.
Okay, you’re definitely sitting on his face tonight.
#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost Riley#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost smut#ghost
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AHHH I LIVE FOR UR GFLOSER AND COOLBFSUKUNA SO MUCH. I LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE OMG SORRY I JUST HAD TO SCREAM MY ADORATION FOR YOU RN
Anyways 😭😭
What is sukuna went on a basketball camp for a few days? Reader would miss him a lot but how would it play out??
𝝑𝝔 an: ahhh ur so so sweet to me dear anon!! thank u so much <33 read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
oh, sukuna would definitely miss you a lot. like, almost a little too much because he got so so used to your presence in his everyday life that it’s weird — having to be alone at certain times or spending the time he used to make for you with his teammates.
he can tell you miss him too, though. from your cute little pictures that you share with him; your silly mirror selfies, pics of the places you go to even if it’s just the familiar interior of university and it’s library, the meals you make.
you send him lyrics from sappy romantic love songs you listen to and drown him in emojis and texts like “me when i think ab u 🥺” and if sukuna were by your side he’d surely hit you on the back of your head.
a couple of his favourite pics from the ones you sent him are: a selfie with yuuji where he’s sitting on your lap and beaming up at the camera along with you, and the other one is a blurry photo of you with jin that was clumsily taken by his nephew, because even through the blur sukuna can admire how pretty you look.
of course, sukuna can’t always answer your texts in time, but you don’t get mad at him about it or anything and just eagerly respond whenever he does manage to get through to you, which makes him very happy. he sends you a selfie(can be opened only once like in whatsapp because he’s mean like that heh) and completely ignores your complaints about him being mean and cruel since you love his face so much. adorable.
it’s so cute when he is finally back too; he doesn’t tell you the exact date and just shows up at your door with some sweet treats and maybe a cute little present, and laughs when you jump into his arms with wide eyes and an equally wide beam. sukuna loves you so much it’s actually crazy ugh.
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna x you#cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader#jjk sukuna#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna ryomen fluff#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna fluff
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If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again
SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.
Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.
WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY
WORD COUNT | 2k
Text Divider by @saradika
They had been running for three days now.
Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.
The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.
As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.
She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.
In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.
Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.
His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.
He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.
At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.
He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.
How did we come to this?
She did not recognize the man in front of her.
He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.
He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.
So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.
As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.
The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.
He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.
She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.
Silly little fool.
“Sharp, sweet niece.”
His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”
Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”
It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.
“...With you.”
The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.
“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”
The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.
When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him.
She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.
And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.
“Gods…”
She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?
She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.
You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause.
That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.
And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.
She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.
He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?
“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”
She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.
Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.
This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.
She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?
She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.
She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.
Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.
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A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)
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Choo Choo Trains
Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader
Warnings: lance is an uncle!! (chloe and scotty have a kid in this lmao), he's got some rizz as the kids say, sweetness all around, frantic lance for a moment there.
Word Count: 537
Author's Note: sorry for the wait, these have been all over the place lately lmao
--
Uncle Lance promised his nephew a toy train and when he remembers, he scrabbles last minute to find something.
Toy stores are a popular place all season around but especially during the holidays.
Seeing that you are one of the only toy stores in town, you tend to work longer hours than most. It was nearly 10 and you were just about to lock the doors, making sure to put the last set of boxes on the shelf.
The bell rings above the door, you groan internally as you step out of the aisle. There's a man, fluffy brown hair on his head, he brushes the snow out of his hair as he looks around, the panic on his face was evident.
"Sir, we're closed," you tell him, glancing at your watch just to make sure of the time. "It's 10:06, we closed 6 minutes ago."
"Please," he huffs, passing a hand through his thick hair. "I won't take much of your time, just let me grab one thing."
You sigh, not having the heart to kick the man out. "Is there something in particular that you're looking for?"
"Uh," he starts, feeling a bit bad that he rushed in, despite you being closed, and still not having a clue what he was gonna get. "I'm not sure."
"Who are you buying a gift for?"
"My nephew."
"How old is he?"
"3," the man smiles and you nod. "Well, from my experience, most boys that are three tend to leant towards superheroes or trains."
The man's eyes light up, "trains! He loves trains!"
You nod, smiling as you lead him through the aisles to the back where you had a massive display with different types of trains. "I don't have time to go through all of these, because I'm sooo late for dinner and you're closed but uh.." He looks at the different boxes and picks up the biggest one, "yeah, this'll do."
Unable to contain your laugh, your hand covers your mouth. "Is that all?"
His brows furrow. "Do you think I should get more?"
"No," you shook your head. "I just meant, like do you wanna get anything else?"
"Oh!" he laughs, shaking his head. "No, this is good."
He follows you to the front to cash out, "want me to wrap it?" You asked, already setting the box on the green wrapping paper. He nods, glancing at your name tag. "Thank you, y/n."
"You're welcome.." You trailed off and he caught on. A hand pressed to his chest. "Lance." You nodded, "you're welcome, Lance."
After wrapping the box up, you stuck a bow on it and handed it over to Lance. "I hope your nephew likes it and that you aren;t in too much trouble for being late to dinner."
Lance smiles, "thank you, for everything."
You were tossing out the scraps of wrapping paper when you heard Lance call for you. "Are you open tomorrow?"
"We are, from 8am to 10pm. Are you bringing your nephew back?"
"Maybe," he smiles, "but either way I'll be back."
"Toy shopping for yourself, Lance?" You smiled, chuckling.
"No," he smiles too. "I'll be back to ask you out, y/n. Have a good night." He waves to you with a smile, heading out the doors and leaving you with very red cheeks.
#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23#lance stroll#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 blurb
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If you want to (no pressure), could you do one for Theo?
The reader (girl) and Theo are friends in their sixth year and have to babysit, maybe the reader's niece or nephew.
Maybe Theo isn't good with kids and the reader helps him. You can decide all that, I'll leave that up to you.
Thank youuuuuu <3 <3
Babysitting
Theo Nott x bestfriend!sytherin!reader
wc: 1.5k
a/n: requests open
(not my gif)
It was winter break and you were staying at Hogwarts. A lot of your friends were staying at Hogwarts for break as well. You got a letter from your sister asking if your niece could come stay with you. You wrote back and replied with a yes.
Your niece was 4 years old. She was a little ball of fire, who always kept you on your toes. You truly loved your niece and cherished any time you spent together. So you were excited that she was coming to stay with you for a little bit.
Sixth year was equally exciting. It was like you were one of the oldest kids on the grounds, witch felt good. You had amazing friends and your classes were doable. It was hard to imagine next year was gonna be your last year at Hogwarts.
You and your friends decided to have a picnic by the black lake. Everyone in your friend group was there, which you were happy about. Some elves in the kitchen helped you out with the food, so you were very grateful.
"This is nice," you began.
"Yeah it is," Draco responded.
"Makes me want to jump in the black lake," Theo said through a mouthful of bread.
"You totally would," you teased.
"Listen, I have my niece coming to visit soon and I was wondering if you guys could help out, please," you begged.
"Yeah of course," Pansy agreed.
"I'm not good with kids," Theo put out.
"I'm sure your better than you think," you reassured.
"I'm really not," Theo argued.
"Well I still need you to be there for me," you deadpanned.
"Yes mam," Theo saluted.
Eventually your group finished up being around the black lake. Everyone packed up the picnic and carried on with their day. You stayed in the Slytherin common room reading a book by the fire.
Theo came strolling in, spying you curled up on the couch. It was in Theo's nature to bother you. He was always with you and always paling around with you. You were his best friend and he'd like to think he was yours.
"Hey Y/N/N, whatcha reading?" he asked.
You flipped up the book angling it to show him the cover then said, "Pride and Prejudice."
"What's it about?" Theo asked.
"The relationship of a boy and a girl as they try to overcome the titular sins of pride and prejudice in order to fall in love and marry."
"Sounds interesting," Theo stated.
"You're not gonna let me read are you?" you sighed.
"Well when you put it like that it sounds bad, but I just want to hang out with you," Theo smiled.
"Aw you're sweet," you cooed as you ruffled his hair. Theo swatted your hands away.
"What do you suggest we do?" you questioned as you shut your book, after bookmarking it.
"Well I haven't gotten that far yet, Um I don't know we could talk, take a walk, play a prank on Filch, maybe gossip?" Theo suggested.
"Ha ha ha," you laughed.
"You want to gossip?" You were surprised.
"I mean if you want to yeah," Theo shrugged.
"Well I just happen to know Draco asked out Astoria but she turned him down. And he was all like "I'm not taking no for an answer," but she said no. He told me he's not gonna give up though," you explained.
"I bet they will end up together, they would be good together," Theo replied.
"I herd Pansy got a F on her potion essay." Theo shared.
"Oh my god no way really?" You put a hand over your mouth.
"Yep. She was pissed," Theo responded.
"I bet."
"Blaise told me he likes Luna like a lot," Theo began.
"Wait what that's crazy. I never would of guessed," you stated shocked.
"Yeah I know right!"
"What are you two crazy kids up to?" Pansy saunters in and takes a seat next to you on the couch.
"Nothing much, just talking," you say.
"Oh well I hope it's about me," she flips her hair.
"Of course Pans," you laugh.
The three of you all chatted for a while, talking about the break. How excited you were to have time off from classes. The three of you were enjoying the break and being able to be carefree.
——————
The next day you woke up early. Your niece was coming today. You were a little bit nervous and anxious to see how she would get along with your friends. She was adorable though so you knew your friends would love her.
You went to the gate to pick up your niece and she was already there waiting for you. You were excited because you haven't seen her in a long while. You quickly embraced her after you said hellos.
"I've missed you Evie," you greeted.
"Missed you too," Evie responded.
"Come on let's walk to the castle and you can tell me what you have been up too."
Evie told you about her days and how happy she was to be visiting you. She told you about her mom, your sister and she told you about her friends in preschool.
When you got back to the castle you wanted to introduce your friends to your niece. You wanted everything to go smoothly so you secretly prayed it would.
You assumed everyone was in the common room. You made your way to the Slytherin common room with your niece. When you arrived all your friends were sprawled out on the couches and by the fire.
They all looked at your direction when you entered.
"Hi guys. I want you to meet Evie. Evie this is everyone. Everyone this is Evie." You gestured to the group and to Evie.
"Hi Evie it's nice to meet you, I'm Pansy and that's Draco," Pansy spoke up.
Evie waved to both of them.
"Hi Im Blaise," Blaise greeted.
"Hi," Evie whispered.
"And this is Teddy," you introduced.
"Teddy? Hi Teddy!" Evie is exclaimed.
"Hi little one," Theo addressed.
Evie came over to Theo and looked at him curiously. Theo smiled at her. She then reached out her hand and then stopped.
"Can I touch your hair?" she asked.
"Um sure," Theo replied.
Evie touched Theo's hair and then she giggled.
"It's so fluffy!" She laughed.
Theo gave you a look that said "what do I do?" You laughed at his lack of being around children.
"Give her a high five"' you suggested.
Theo raised his hand and said, "High five!"
Evie grinned and slapped her hand on Theo's. Evie took a liking to Theo and you could tell fairly quickly. Evie was one of your favorite family members and you were glad she liked your friends.
"Do you want to take a walk with me?" Theo asked.
"Yeah!" Evie answered.
Pansy, Blaise and Draco decided to stay in the common room. You, Theo, and Evie decided to roam the castle grounds. Evie was a bundle of energy.
"Could I have a piggy back ride Teddy?" Evie asked.
Theo looked to you for approval which you granted.
"Yeah of course," he allowed.
Evie jumped on his back and threw her arms around his neck. Theo grabbed ahold of her legs and shifted her up a little bit.
"Giddy Up horsey!" Evie called out.
Theo laughed and started to run. Evie yelled "weeeeee!" You started to catch up with them happy that Evie was having so much fun. Theo stopped at the top of a grassy hill.
"Can we roll down the hill?" Evie questioned.
"I don't see why not," you shrugged.
"Teddy go first," Evie pushed Theo on the back, urging him to roll down the hill first.
"Ok ok ok I'm going," Theo rushed out.
Theo laid down and then turned around to begin rolling down the hill. You started laughing as he speeded down the hill.
"Your turn Auntie!" Evie insisted.
"Alright settle down I'm going I'm going," you responded.
You got down on the ground and rolled down the hill. You ended down by Theo's feet and he helped you up.
"Come on Evie, tumble on down," you called.
"You guys ready?" Evie asked.
"Yes!" You and Theo both answered.
Evie came tumbling down giggling and getting covered in grass. You applauded her when she reached the end of the hill. She was beaming. Theo also joined in and clapped for her. Evie took a bow.
Eventually you all went back to the castle chatting about anything and everything. Evie held your hand and Theo's hand as she walked in the middle of you guys.
When you guys returned back to the common room Evie was tired and wanted to take a nap. You were so excited that Theo and Evie were getting along you didn't notice that Evie fell asleep on Theo's lap.
"Are you ok?" You mouthed to Theo.
"Yeah she's fine right here," he whispered.
It made your heart melt at the sight. You were thankful for Theo's help today and hoped that Evie had fun today, you certainly did. You hoped the three of you could hang out more and more. You watched as Evie slept completely content resting on Theo.
#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott x reader#harry potter#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott fluff#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#theo nott fluff#slytherin boys#harry potter x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott fanfic#hp universe#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott scenarios#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x you#theo nott x slytherin!reader#slytherin#theodore nott fic#theo nott fic#theo nott x fem!reader#slytherin x reader#theodore nott imagine#theo nott fanfiction#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys imagine
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Where's My Love
Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺
Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.
Wordcount: 5.8k
Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader
Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?
Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33
(smut after asterisks)
Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.
You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.
All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.
“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder.
The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm.
He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.
Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.
“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.
“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.
A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.
“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage.
Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods.
You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.
“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.
“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries.
Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.
“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.
She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.
-
In truth, you were far from alright.
Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.
This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.
You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that.
It is not by accident.
If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.
You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl.
Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.
Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest.
You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.
When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.
You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.
═══════════════════════════════════════════
“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.
Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.
He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable.
You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you.
It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.
"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.
“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.
He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.”
Your brother appears less than convinced, you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”
Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.
You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.
Where has time gone?
Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.
In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.
═══════════════════════════════════════════
You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.
“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.
The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.
Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.
“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.
Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.
Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.
After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.
You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.
Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away.
Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.
“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.
“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.
“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.
Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence.
She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment.
Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.
“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner.
“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.
“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.
Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand.
You drill your expression, unfazed.
The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.
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You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.
Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.
You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her.
You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.
The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.
-
The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.
You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.
Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.
Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt.
Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.
“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.
“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.
A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.
“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.
“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.
“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.
“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.
“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.
You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.
Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.
“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.
He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.
Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.
“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.
“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.
“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.
She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.
“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.
“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.
“What?” You ask.
“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.
“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.
After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs.
Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.
“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.
“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.
“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.
“Never again, do you hear me?”
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You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over.
You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.
Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.
You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.
As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold.
“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei.
Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.
You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.
“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.
“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.
“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.
You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.
You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.
She slams it closed behind herself.
“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.
This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.
You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”
A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.
“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.
“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.
More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.
“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.
“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.
“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.
“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.
You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.
“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.
“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly.
You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers.
Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.
“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.
She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath.
She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist.
A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.
The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her.
Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.
The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.
You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her.
“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.
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The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity.
The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.
You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.
You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.
“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.
“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.
You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.
You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores.
This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.
You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.
You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.
“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.
As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.
Perhaps in a different life.
You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart.
You would have been happy.
In another life.
By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.
As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room.
Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time.
You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.
You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.
A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.
“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.
“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.
You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.
You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.
Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.
“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her.
Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.
You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.
She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.
**
She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.
Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.
Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire.
You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days.
However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.
The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.
“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you.
Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.
You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.
You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.
“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch.
You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.
You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress.
Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug.
“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.
The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly.
This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.
Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.
Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.
Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.
“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond.
The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance.
She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.
She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.
The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.
Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.
Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her.
The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave.
Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.
“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.
Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.
You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.
Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.
The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other.
Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her.
You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process.
The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.
“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.
“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.
“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.
You oblige without asking further questions.
“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.
With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.
As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.
**
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Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words.
Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen.
This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.
Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.
Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.
Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.
The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.
“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.
You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.
#cersei lannister smut#cersei x reader#g!p reader#cersei lannister#ned stark#stark reader#fem stark reader#ned stark x reader#catelyn stark#g!p
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SURRENDING TO DESIRE
pairing: choi san x fem! reader
word count: 3k
tags: smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, slice of life, idol!au, bf!San, dom!San, sub!reader, reader is slightly a brat, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, deepthroat, blowjob, hickeys, dirty talk, praise, slight degradation (reader gets called “slut” once), small aftercare, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess) lmk if I missed anything!
synopsis: after a very long year of hard work, San and you decided to spend the holidays in Namhae. But you happen to be busy even on vacation, barely exchanging glances with your boyfriend. Until one night, you find the moment of intimacy you needed with him.
| a/n: this one shot was inspired by an erotic audio. I’ll drop the link in here in case y’all want to listen to it | audio
Finally, that time of year had arrived. Those few weeks when you didn’t have to worry about anything other than spending quality time with your family, catching up with your friends, and traveling wherever you wanted for the simple purpose of resting.
And you couldn’t be happier to spend your resting days with San. You had both been so packed with work that you barely had time to see each other—despite living in the same apartment.
Of course you went out with San to celebrate the end of your work days for the year, a dinner at your favorite restaurant was the plan. You ate exquisitely and tasted the restaurant’s most expensive wines. While you were effortlessly shaking your red wine, San proposed that you spend the holidays in his hometown, Namhae, along with his entire family.
You knew how much family meant to San and all the time he spent without being able to see them because of his job as an idol. Of course San loved his fans, after all he would be nothing without the support of his beloved ATINYS, but he would give everything to see his family more than twice a year.
You couldn’t say no to him, not when his eyes were shining at the thought of spending his days off with the two things that made him the happiest man in the entire world: his family and you.
You very rarely went to the Choi Family house, but when you did, you were more than welcome. San’s mother reminded you of that tender and protective side of your boyfriend, always taking care of you and asking you almost everything about your relationship with her beloved son; while San’s father was more reserved, quieter. But that didn’t take away the fact that he was just as funny and chivalrous as his son.
San was definitely the perfect combination of his parents. And you were so grateful to get to call him yours.
San’s family’s vacation home was huge, and of course it had to be if it had to house such an extended family. You had really forgotten the exhuberant amount of nephews San had and how loud they were. Luckily, with the help of his mother and his sister, Haneul, you were able to put them to bed in their respective beds —not before singing them a lullaby though, sweet as dripping honey.
You sighed as the last of the children fell into the abyss of sleep after so many attempts. Mentally, you patted your back congratulating yourself on your work.
You closed the door of the room with all the caution in the world, not wanting to wake them up by the slightest alteration of the silence that you had achieved with all your effort.
You headed towards the kitchen, where you found your handsome boyfriend finishing washing the last of the dirty dishes. You positioned yourself behind his broad, muscular figure only to gently slide your hands along his waist. A small jolt ran through San’s body when he felt your touch, turning to look at you immediately.
“Fuck. Baby, you scared the living shit outta me,” San’s hand landed on his chest, a soft giggle escaping out your lips as you slapped his side gently.
“Language,” You said in a tiny whisper.
“Sorry. But I thought you were asleep?” Now his palms held your hips safely, his fingers drawing little circles on each side.
“Mm, I should, yeah,” Your arms moved and placed over his broad shoulders, “But I don’t want to sleep in an empty bed, you know?”
“Miss me, princess?” His voice, so sweet and husky at the same time it almost made you fall to your knees.
“Yeah, a lot,” You hid your face in the crook of his neck, leaving a little trail of innocent kisses, “It’s crazy how we only get to exchange glances all day.”
“Yeah,” He sighed but held his breath for a second, a little smile drawing on his lips, “What do you say if we” He held you even closer to his anatomy, “go to bed.”
You smiled against his lips and left a small peck on them, “Sounds good to me.”
San stretched his hands further so he could intertwine his fingers with yours and go to his bedroom to give that long and exhausting day an end. There were still a few dishes that he hadn’t finished washing, but he would take care of that tomorrow. He just wanted to put you to bed at that moment.
When you arrived at your shared room, San closed the door behind you and guided you towards your bed—queen size. He placed you against the mattress so gently, as if you were glass, and was on top of you, each arm on the side of your head supporting his own weight to avoid collapsing on top of you.
“You look so pretty right now,” San murmured. His hot breath hitting the flushed skin of your cheek.
A soft giggle rolled off your lips and San couldn’t help but watch them, watch carefully your every move. The way your lips parted only to show a row of perfect teeth, as bright as a pearl. He got comfortable as he laid on your side, hugging your waist and caressing it. His cheek resting on your chest.
“I really love you, so much,” He continued, “I know I don’t get to say it much since we’re so busy with work and stuff. But I want you to know that I genuinely love you and I can’t imagine a world without you by my side. You make me the happiest man and I promise to spend the rest of my days trying to make you the happiest woman.”
You didn’t have the strength to cry, you were exhausted from having dealt with your boyfriend’s nephews all day. But if you could cry, you would.
This was what you loved about San.
He showed you that he loved you in every way possible, and he reminded you every day through messages, words, chocolates, letters, in any way.
You felt like a woman being with him and safe in his arms.
He was the only man you wanted in your life. The only man you’d die for.
“Sannie,” You caressed his cheek softly, his eyes closed the moment he felt your skin touching his, “I don’t think you can make me happier than you already do.”
You left the sweetest peck on his lips, your palm still caressing his skin.
“I love you a lot more,” You struggled a little bit trying to wrap his muscular body with your arms, both of you melting into the sweetest hug, “Mine,” You whispered against his neck.
San laughed in embarrassment without opening his mouth, “All yours.”
You don’t know when you lost consciousness and fell into his arms, asleep like a baby. It was when you heard a child’s desperate cry that you opened your eyes lazily, realizing that San had been spooning you, his arms wrapping you in his warmth, keeping you safe. You managed to hear the voice of San’s sister in the distance, who began to whisper a lullaby to calm the awake child and put him back to sleep. Eventually you stopped hearing even the slightest sound, so you decided to go back to sleep.
Which was impossible. Because just a few minutes after you closed your eyes, you felt something half hardened hit the curvature of your ass. As soon as San shifted uncomfortably in his place, his member managed to rub even more against your exposed skin, rising and hardening with each movement. You knew it was normal for this to happen, but it had been a while since you played with your boyfriend.
Like the good girlfriend you were, you decided to give his erection some relief. You moved your ass back and forth mischeviously causing even more friction. A low groan was heard.
You continued your actions and San slowly woke up, you couldn’t see his frown eyebrows nor his lips, twisting in discomfort.
“Baby,” His husky voice sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but slightly arch your back, “Stop moving.”
“What did you say?” You started innocently bouncing on his hardened cock.
“Stop bouncing or I'll give you a reason to bounce,” He was half-asleep, but he always had the energy to put you in your place. And he never failed on it.
“But I already have a reason, don’t I?” You continued, “Your little friend has been up for a while.”
He brushed off what you had said as if he didn’t hear it, “Y/n, someone can hear us.”
“Not if we keep it quiet.” You paused briefly, allowing San’s mind to process your plan. As soon as you heard his sigh, you knew he had given up. You turned around so you could see your lover’s lost, sleepy gaze shining with the moonlight that entered the room as an intruder.
He grabbed your jaw gently and brought it closer to him to kiss your plump lips. The kiss began calmly, both feeling the warmth of the other even more. This sweetness didn’t last long though, it disappeared when San’s tongue entered your mouth without a warning and it started dancing with yours. A whimper left your lips when he pulled you by your waist, closer to him.
“Shh. Do you want everyone to know the needy little girl you are?” His fingers danced all along your belly, drawing doodles on it softly. When two of his fingers reached the beginning of your vagina, he felt nothing but your bare skin, “Ooh, not wearing any underwear I see. Trying to tell me something?”
“Maybe I just want you to shut up and make me cum,” You whispered against his lips dangerously. A low, lustful flame lit up in San’s eyes.
“You’re gonna end up begging me to stop, sweetheart,” His fingers started playing with your creamy mess, which started spilling off and dirtying the covers. “And guess what?” He inserted them with a single thrust. Their length was long enough to touch your g-spot faintly. “I won't.”
It didn’t take long for his fingers to start moving faster, your desperation to cum was beginning to build up in your lower belly, and you could feel it as a pleasant heat. Your eyes closing unconsciously. You tried to drown the urge to moan your boyfriend’s name by biting the inside of your cheek. You alternated between biting your lip and your cheek, loosening the high tension on your jaw when it started to hurt.
“Look at me when I touch you,” He demanded, and you couldn’t resist the moan that came deeply from your throat.
Tension spread quickly through your limbs as you had broken the only rule San had told you not to break. Absolute silence.
San didn’t say a word though, apparently giving you another chance to show him that you were a good girl and that you knew how to follow his rules, that you knew how to obey any order of his without reproach.
He tested you when his thumb pressed against your clit, moving it in circles. You were holding onto your last shred of sanity when his fingers began to repeatedly touch that sweet spot, and at the same time, his thumb pressed that pleasure button in the most exquisite way. You tried, you really did. But fuck, the pleasure was so intense that you were glad you were laying on your bed because your legs had given out a while ago.
“You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder,” His low demand penetrating your eardrums.
At that moment you felt how your shoulders were heavy, each one carrying a mini-you, one of them was whispering to you with the sweetest voice to be a brat and rail him up even more, while the other was trying to explain to you all the different reasons why you should shut the hell up and be a good girl for San if you wanted him to fuck you. You knew that San was capable of leaving you horny, with a big mess down your panties —he made it up to you, eventually. He always did. But you didn’t feel in the mood for it right now, you wanted to be fucked, and you wanted it now.
“S...San, Sannie. Oh my fuck,” You tried to articulate.
“Mhm?” You could feel his arrogant smirk even with your eyes closed from the satisfaction you were receiving with just your boyfriend’s fingers, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
You didn’t know he could pump his fingers into you even faster. But now you do. Because he did. His movements, so precise they turned your brain into mush.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” He murmured and you felt a heated wave crash into your insides.
“D...Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, baby,” Your breathlessness striking your voice down, “Even if I beg you to,”
You heard San mumble a “fuck” under his breath. Your body started trembling even more when you felt that that heated coil formed down your belly was about to reach its release.
“F-fuck! Sannie I’m so fucking close,” You whined, still trying to keep your cries at a low volume, “Fuckfuckfuck!”
“I know, baby, I know,” He cooed, “Just let go for me,” San removed his fingers from your warm inside only to rub his ring and middle fingers against your swollen clit. A satisfied sigh was heard when you started squirting on his hand, the silk sheets getting wet from your clear liquid, “That’s it. What a good girl,”
San waited for you to come down your high while he kissed your neck and breasts, carefully leaving cute lovebites on them, only attaching his lips to your skin in places that you could easily cover with some clothing. Finally, after having regained your breath and the ability to formulate sentences, you looked down at the prominent tent that San had trapped in his pajama pants.
You were tired from the excellent session your boyfriend had just given you, but you felt bad for him and his little friend. It must’ve been painful that his big, cum-leaking boner had been left unattended for so long.
“Need a little help with that?” You spoke seductively, hiding your tiredness. Because you knew that if you showed any signs of tiredness, San would immediately stop everything just so you could rest. He would then take care of his problem with a cold shower or with his poor, lonely hand.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He removed his short in the blink of an eye, amusingly.
A soft giggle from you resonated inside San’s ears, delighting in your sweet voice. You moved so you could be right in front of his mouth-watering erection. You decided to tease him a little bit because damn his cock was rock-hard, perfectly up.
“Could you be any harder?” You said while you played with his cock tip, rubbing your index finger on it. When you saw a speck of precum peek out of his slit, a smirk was instantly drawn across your face.
“Are you gonna keep playing with it or are you gonna put it in your mouth at some point?” He said, panting a little bit.
He didn’t need to tell you twice. As soon as you heard his order, you were willing to take him to heaven with just your mouth, you wanted him to see stars and for his gaze to light up with white dots of intense, pleasure. You planned on giving him an eye-rolling orgasm.
You suck, lick and slurped everything you could put in your mouth, the rest of his cock was not neglected but getting the attention of your hands. A low groan from him made you quiver. Yet you didn’t stop working your mouth on his harden dick, already twitching inside you mouth.
“Holy fuck. You really are a slut for my cock, aren’t you?” Your doe-eyed gaze met his as his hand caressed your head softly. That drove him over the edge. And the slurp you just did right on his tip? He thought he was going to pass out. “Oh fuck. That’s it. Don’t fucking stop, baby.”
It only took a couple more licks along his dick and a light, gentle massage on his balls and San was already cumming inside your mouth. You received all the spurts of his hot cum gladly, happy that now you had both reached your own orgasm at least once.
You’d have time later to fuck properly, in your apartment, alone where no one could bother or interrupt you. After all, there was only one day left until you and San returned to the busy city of Seoul. Probably during the remaining day there will be naughty glances or touches, but who’ll notice?
Both of you, being tired enough, melted into an embrace, full of love and affection. San left messy kisses all over your face, you made a little sound in annoyance, trying to tell him to stop. A laugh slipped off San’s tongue, finally leaving a soft peck on your lips.
“You really don’t realize what it does to me when we’re cuddling and you press your ass against me,” And as the brat that you were, you were about to do to him precisely what he had told you not to do. And as if San had entered your mind and read your thoughts, he continued, “And don’t you even dare doing it,”
You let out an annoyed huff and replied, “You’re no fun, Sannie.”
“Me? You are the one that turns me the fuck on with that ass of yours,”
“Oh! So, is that my fault now?” A laugh threatened to burst out of your throat.
“Yes, it is,” He said like a little kid, with that childish tone of him that you could recognize even being blocks away. “See? Now I have another problem,”
You didn’t understand what he was referring to until you looked down and saw his cock, waking up again from its flaccidity.
A sigh left your lips as you smiled at San’s sheepish smile, “You really have no remedy, boy.”
And he turned you around, trapping you in his strong arms. Suddenly the fatigue you both had a few minutes ago disappeared.
This was going to be a long night.
#choi san#ateez smut#san smut#ateez#choi san smut#ateez x reader#san x reader#san ateez#choi san imagine#ateez scenarios
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Aemond loves his little family.
He keeps a watchful eye over his children, making the royal guards seem redundant. Aemond often recalls the ridicule and embarrassment he’d faced as a child—and the resulting accident—and makes it a personal matter to maintain a keen eye over how the children behave towards each other, or how other children in the keep interact with his family.
Rarely does he let his half-sister and his nephews interact with his happy little family.
The Prince is unusually involved in his children’s lives for someone of his station—the responsibility typically laying with that of wet nurses and his lady-wife’s handmaidens—yet Aemond does it anyways.
He personally oversees their studies, and has taken the task upon himself of teaching his children High Valyrian—carefully correcting mispronunciations and gently calming them when their frustrations grow.
Aemond refused to be to his children what his own father was to him—neglectful and uninterested or show obvious favoritism for one over the masses—Aemond made sure all his children felt equally as loved and cherished, in their own ways of course.
His eldest son—Vaemon—was very much the warrior every royal family hoped the first born male would be. Aemond had a little wooden sword crafted and in the small boy’s hand before the child could fully walk.Aemond was often spotted training with the young lad, teaching his heir proper techniques and how to find and use one’s advantages.
A few years behind his first born, came Vaenya. Undoubtedly his scholar in the making. The young girl would rarely be found without a book in her grasp; Aemond would gift her with every newly published book he could get his hands on, though, she greatly favorite those of the world’s history—much like her father—and Aemond would enjoy quiet evenings spent by candlelight, the two of them pouring over ancient texts. Often, Aemond would teasingly correct her posture, “Slouching is unbecoming of a Princess~”
His darling Haelera, who—affectionately named after his sweet sister—had somehow managed to gather the same odd fascination with all things creepy-crawly, still felt her father’s warm love. Though, you could say she was a lover of animals in general, it was much easier to come across bugs of various types than an odd dog or cat in the Red Keep. Aemond listening intently to every little insect fact his darling daughter brought to his attention, and would often return from his Princely duties with a jar containing a random bug much to Haelera’s delight.
And Little Raenar could just barely toddle after his older brother and his father, yet Aemond was insistent on bringing the infant as he and Vaemon trained. Aemond supposed the young babe simply liked the sounds of metal—if the light on his face and the happy giggles that floated through the training yard each time Aemond blocked one of Vaemon’s attacks were anything to go by—but the babe seemed to enjoy the activity, or his brother and sire’s company either way, and Aemond was content with including him even if his little mind wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.
Aemond personally picks each and every dragon egg that would be placed in his children’s cradles. And while, thankfully all eggs did hatch, Aemond did harbor a bit of fear that one of his children would be left to suffer a fate similar to his as a dragonless Targaryen—and vowed he’d not have them ridiculed as he once was, that he’d comfort and adore them regardless.
He relishes in teaching his children to be dragon riders. To see the ease and joy on their faces after a their first ride, to see they have what should have been his—gaining a dragon-bond at birth, and not having to lose a part of themselves in order to gain something by sheer determination—Aemond delights in taking his little clan on family rides.
Aemond would not see his little family crumble and become scattered in the winds as his extended family had been in his youth. He insists upon the family being together during every meal, not that you’d ever begin to think of denying him that—the family being as tight knit as it was—Aemond enjoyed hearing about each member of his family’s daily activities and growing interests.
He would never be more grateful to anyone more than he was to his Lady-Wife for giving him something he’d never truly had before—the gift of family—darling children that loved each other as much as their father loved them.
Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.
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Helloooo love! I'm a fan lurking in the dark with a request idea for Aemond x Reader. Would love to see your take on Aemond trying to win Reader back (his wife) after she found out about Alys. Maybe this happens after the "Dance" , Aemond survives and they have to deal with the aftermath of Alys. Reader loved him with everything she had so she feels betrayed and turns cold to him and maybe because of Alys, something also happened to her (idk lost pregnancy perhaps but PLEASE exclude this if you don't feel comfortable writing it). Basically take everything you find interesting from this request and work your magic - I trust you like no other!!! Thank you I send you all the love there is - you are very very talented and please know there are many like me that think you are truly brilliant, I know it!!! :*:*
Authors Note: Oh my god thank you this is so freakin sweet! 🥺 I’m happy to take the request and spin my take on this, hope you enjoy it! :)
Also, some of the stuff Is made up like the time between Daemons death and end of the war. I don’t know it so I made it up. If you don’t like it take it up with my dms
Word count: 2.6K
Warnings: Cheating, miscarriage though it’s not explicit, she’s kinda depressed? Not sure how to describe it,
Taglist: @blue-serendipity
The Sequels: The Depressive one, The happy One
—————
If Aemond ever regretting not killing anyone throughout the war he technically started, most would’ve immediately assumed that he wished he never killed his nephew. Though they were wrong. Yes, Lucerys’ death became one of the many causes of the war and in turn deaths of so many people, but his death didn’t result in the loss of you and your child.
Alys’ death could’ve though.
When he first met Alys, he had been nearly immediately enraptured and enamoured by had. She was quite different to you. While you had always been headstrong and never afraid to tell Aemond what he needed to do or to be, Alys had been more docile and had no issue in telling Aemond all the things he wanted to hear.
He regretted the first time he laid with Alys in his bed. Though that regret went away the more time he spent with her and the more times he laid with her. He begun to think of possibly taking after Aegon the conqueror, thinking he’d have both you and Alys by his side when Aegon most likely drank himself to death.
That fantasy was soon ruined when he got that letter.
Dear Aemond,
Do you think of me as a fool? I know about that fucking woman Aemond. I know about Alys. I don’t know why you have decided to betray our marriage and honestly, I don’t think care I can bring myself to think about it nor care anymore. This letter was originally going to be happy. A letter letting you know what we prayed near everyday from the seven had finally come true and been answered. I was with child. Our child made purely of what I had thought was love. Though that changed when I was informed of what you had done. I mourned for what we could’ve had. I cried and refused to believe it at first, though soon I came to my senses. Yet it was too late. Our child is dead Aemond. I woke up a few days ago to heavy blood staining our bedsheets. The child was barely two months according to the maester. I wish for you to know it is your fault Aemond. I do not wish to ever see you again. I wish to never hear from you so if you attempt to reconcile or send a letter I will pay for our child’s blood with your own. You have dug your grave Aemond. Don’t try and dig it deeper. If you are to die in battle, I hope it is painful. I hope you suffer like I have.
From, your wife
From your former wife
Aemond had felt his heart plummet to the floor when he read that letter. He could not stop the tears that fell to the floor and stained the letter he still was holding. The ink blotting and staining the page so much the words were becoming near illegible.
He attempted to head into battle with the faint hope that you’d forgive him if he killed his uncle. Though even he knew deep down that no amount of deaths could fix anything. Yet even still he tried. He defeated Daemon, with blood of which Targaryen man he did not know staining and pooling on his ripped armour.
Aemond came home where he was met with his mother and brother, who both congratulated him on his victory. Though even with their congrats he could see the disgust that lingered in his mothers gaze as she looked at him. It made his shame all that more prominent.
He would’ve gone to see you, but Aegon stopped him before he could, claiming he was holding a feast in his name for the defeat of Daemon. He tried to look for you in the amount of people that came, yet he couldn’t. And he didn’t dare ask his mother if you would be coming in fear of her glare and disappointment.
That night he wonders something. Maybe it would’ve been better if he did die by the hand of his uncle? Then it would’ve saved him from all this torture. Though he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Aemond can only wallow in his drinks that he keeps being given and his own sorrow.
Aemond was back home. The words the maids said echoed in your head. He’s here, and no doubt going to attempt to reconcile. If there was one thing you ever learnt about your husband, was that he never quit at anything he started.
You already made bets with yourself on how he’d attempt to do it.
Maybe he’ll try flowers? No that’s too much of a common move for Aemond to pull… Maybe he’ll bring you some jewellery? No that’d make him feel like he was buying for your forgiveness. Like he was buying something for a mistress. Well… he’s been there and done that…
There is always the chance Aemond will not even attempt to reconcile. Hopefully becoming too overcome by the grief and pain of the loss of his and your child that he’d respect your wishes after reading your own pain on paper. The maids still look at you worriedly, especially when they find you sitting near the window. You know why they worry, you mourned Helaena and Jahaerys and you know you will not become like her.
Aegon was also the one who told you about Alys, and when you lost your child and screamed for the whole of the castle to hear, it was Aegon who ran to you to mourn with you and hold you while you cried for a life you may have been able to have. He held you in the way a brother would hold a sister. He even cried with you and helped clean you of the blood. Oh the blood…
———
It’s been a few long months, but the war between the greens and the blacks is finally over. Aegon is celebrating by holding a massive banquet and all the lord and ladies who supported him are invited. Even though Aemond knows it will not happen, he secretly hopes you will come to celebrate.
Though as he keeps sneaking glances at the door all night he eventually comes to term with the fact you’re not coming. He can only swallow more bitter wine and ignore the fact he’s drinking it like a fish in water now.
He’s attempted to reconcile from a distance ever since the incident but everything he has sent to your chambers has come back in shreds. The flowers from the garden you loved to look after, heads torn from their stems and cut into a thousand pieces. The books he sent on your favourite topic, you had more restraint on them and simply chucked them from your window onto unsuspecting bystanders bellow.
Aegon told him delightfully how after he delivered the books to you, they were seen immediately thrown from the window and one had supposedly managed to hit one knight straight on the head, effectively knocking him out cold.
Though if anything those small acts of defiance made Aemond wish to reunite and return to you even more. It reminded him just why he fell in love with you in the first place. Your wit and your wisdom made him fall head over heals for you, literally.
He had tripped in front of you and some other ladies of the court due to the load of books he was carrying. He had not yet gotten used to the visual impairments the loss of his eye provided and did not see the thrown goblet in his path. Aemond had effectively turned scarlet when the ladies began to mockingly giggle at him, it nearly made his heart beat straight from his chest when he saw you come to his help. “You need to get some help with those. It’s not that bad to ask for help you know? Means you aren’t a stubborn twat.” You grin.
He wished he could go back to those days. They were simpler. They held no knowledge of the war they would face. It held no knowledge of the bastard from Harrenhal.
Aemond had not tried to reunite with you in person. He knew you’d most definitely follow through with your threat and spill his blood. It’s why he attempted to send you items instead through the maids. Though it’s very obvious those weren’t working either. That’s when he got the idea to write you letters. There was easily a chance that you would burn them or tear them the moment you saw the writing. Yet even then Aemond knew he had to try…
———
“Princess. I have another item sent from the prince for you.” One of the maids said as she carefully approached your bed. The sun had already hit its peak that day, though you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. The only time you could bring yourself too was either with the help of your maids, or when Aemond sent a supposed gift to you which you’d immediately destroy.
“What is it this time?” You sigh. “Is it something that I am supposed to eat? Because if it is i’d like it if you took to the servants quarters and give it to them and not-“
“It’s not food related my princess. It’s a letter.” When you look towards the maid you can see the sad expression clear on her face. This maid has brought you many of Aemonds attempts at reconciliation.
“What is your name?” It does not give you any sort of pleasure when the maid looks shocked at the fact a princess is asking for the name of a maid. “Its not a trick question I want to know your name.”
“Klarisa my princess. My name is Klarissa.”
“Klarisa do you think I should read the letter my bastard of a husband as written to me?” You look carefully at Klarisas face, the decision of your lifetime hanging in a mere maids hands.
“To be honest with you my lady…” Klarisa takes a deep breath and puts on a sympathetic face. You appreciate that she wishes to give you honesty, though that sympathetic face makes you want to punch her. “What the prince did was inexcusable after the way the two of you acted before… her. You got to have a husband who loves you and cared for you, that itself is much more than most of the women who are forced into a marriage can hope for. The prince is trying to make up for it and is also respective your boundaries. Not many could say that they got to have a husband who did even one of those things. So yes my princess, I believe you should read the letter.” You take a deep breathe and loosen your hands, which seemed to have clenched so tightly your nails all but pierce into your palms.
“Give me the letter then leave. If you see the prince, do not tell him that you for once got me to think about even looking at his weak apologies. Just put your head down, and walk away. Do you understand Klarisa?”
“Yes my princess.” Klarisa moves swiftly to the doors to your chambers, opening it and moving forward, only to stop for a moment and turn on her heels towards to. “I hope you get what it is you seek my princess. For your own sake.” She turns back to the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone with the letter in your hand which already feels like it’s burning you. Yet you prevail, and slowly open the letter to read it.
Dear ñuha jorrāelagon,
I will not waste my breath in attempting to gain your forgiveness. I know better than anyone that when you stick your mind to something you keep it that way. Though what I will say is the truth, which I know will hurt you and anger you more than anything but i know it’s what you wish to hear.
Alys was a woman I believed to be falling in love with. She was something what I believed I needed in my life. A woman to be docile and to whisper all the things I needed to hear in my ear. Though after your letter, it became my wake up. I cut off all contact with Alys after realising how much I hurt you. I regret that woman everyday I have not been with you. You are the only woman I need to be with. I love that you are not docile and will not take any man’s shit (as you so clearly and often tended to put it). I love that you challenge me and encourage the debates we so often hold. I love you Rhaella, more than any woman before in my life. I’m sorry it took another woman and the life of our child for me to realise it. I understand wholeheartedly if you wish to never speak to me again. But I hope with this letter, if you ever do decide to read this, which after all my other attempts seem unlikely, you at least know that there will not be a single day that I do not wish that I did not kill that woman when I killed all the other strongs. You are my life. My world. And I hope you know that.
From, Aemond Targaryen
You’ve never felt like you wanted to cry this much since you lost your sweet baby. You can feel the tears leaking down your face the entire time you read Aemonds words. Some of your tears drip onto the page, leaving some of the words to blur together into illegible blobs of black ink.
You feel the urge to destroy the letter. The same urge and desire you felt when you got into contact with all of Aemonds other gifts. Though you resist this time, and instead of destroying the letter, you smooth it out and place it delicately under the mass amounts of pillows that seem to always near take over your bed. That night, for the first night of the many you’d stayed in your room during your isolation period, you slept the whole night in your bed with no nightmares to wake you screaming.
———
When Aemond was standing in the corridor in the shadows and hadn’t picked up on any whispers from the maids passing him of any destruction or damage coming from your chambers, he assumed you must have kept the letter.
He does not hold though any hope that you read it. For all he knows you’ve simply just ignored it or ripped it and used it to keep your fire alight.
When he is waiting for the maid to come out of your room though, he could not help but feel hopeful when the maid takes longer than usual to come out of your room. “Well?” He asks as he steps from the shadows when the maid eventually comes out and nearly passes him. He does not dare to actually ask whether or not you took it. Even though he so selfishly wish to help hold her down and demand for
It surprises him and angers him when the maid looks at him and yet does not acknowledge him. What did you tell her? What does she know?
Aemond grabs the arm of the maid as she attempts to pass him without any real acknowledgment. “Your prince asked you a question.” He growls. He nearly felt sympathy for the woman when she looked at him with fear in her eyes. But he is not Aegon. He can control his desires towards the maids.
“The princess asked that I not speak to you. Please let go of my arm, my prince…” The maid half begs. Aemond lets go of her arm reluctantly after a moment of thinking. Why would you tell the maid to not talk to him? Maybe you really read the letter and do not wish to appear weak to him? Though only if you knew that you could never be weak in his eyes, his strong independent wife.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fic#prince aemond#aemond x reader#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen/reader#aemond x you#hotd aemond#house of the dragon aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen#the death of a life au
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A Kiss Is All I Need
Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Chapter Two
Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.
Warnings: Nothing much yet, just little fluff.
Words: 1,167
Masterlist / Series Masterlist
Taglist: @zenka69 @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen-shy-elf @aemondsdelight @shari-berri @kckt88 @watercolorskyy @dae7tina @saturnssrings @dixie-elocin @arabis-world @tulips2715 @reedmurdock @ladythornofrivia @tssf-imagines @eeeeeevesstuff @venmondiese @bellaisasleep @darylandbethfanforever9 @snh96 @liv-cole
Aemond took a deep breath as he stood in front of your bakery. ‘The Faun Cottage’ was the name of your store. The display window was decorated with beautiful green leaves and antique books which served to hold cakes and baskets of bread.
He was dressed in a light white shirt with a leather jacket, black jeans, and super comfortable Doctor Martens, which he wears almost every day. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail.
Looking down at the watch on his wrists, he saw it was 2 pm already. “Here goes nothing,” he murmurs as he walks into the bakery. “You better be right, Aegon.”
The scent of fresh bread and coffee along with a sweet herbal smell hit his nose like a train. Inside the shop, it was warm and cozy. Green vines are climbing the walls into the ceiling and some ancient runes are painted on the stone walls which looks like a mix of cottage core with Celtic/Viking vibe. A faint medieval music played in the background. It looks like something from an ancient era.
There are some people seated eating their food, others reading or working while drinking their tea or coffee.
“Mommy! Mommy! My Prince is here!” Emily’s voice echoed through the shop, grabbing his attention. This time she was dressed in a simple brown dress with some hand-painted runes on it. Her black hair was braided, and two small antlers rested on her head.
Aemond smiles down at her and kneels to shake her tiny hand. “Hello, Emily.” He greets her gently. “And what do you suppose to be today?”
She gives him a little twirl and grins. “I’m a druid! I talk to animals and cure people's booboos with my magic!” The girl grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door behind the counter, saying a quick hello to the guy who was attending to a client.
Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him. “Hmm, I see.”
Emily opens the door and leads him inside. It was an office by the looks and by the desk full of papers and a laptop, stood a very stressed woman.
“Mommy! Look who’s here!” Emily chirps happily.
You looked up from your papers and gave him a tired smile. “Aemond... I’m happy to see you. Please take a seat.” You try to make your office table more presentable, putting all the paperwork in cases. “Sorry for the mess. It’s been a busy day. Maria needed the day off so I took over her work and... it didn’t go well.”
Aemond sat on the wooden chair in front of you while Emily went to the corner to play with her plush animals. “It’s no problem... Here’s my papers, all the training I did.” He gives you the case. “By the way, you have a lovely bakery. Very creative.”
The grin you gave him made Aemond’s heart almost burst out of his chest. Your eyes brightened at his compliment and how the dimples on your cheeks made you look so cute and innocent.
“Thank you! It was a lot of work to make it the way I imagined but it was worth it.” You say taking a seat on your chair. “So, shall we start with the interview?”
Aemond nods.
“Okay! So, your brother said you had experience with children. Your nephews, right?” Aemond nods again.
“Yes, my sister's children. Twins, a girl, Jaehaera, and a boy, Jaehaerys, of 8 years old, and toddler of 2 years old, Maelor.” Aemond smiled gently at the thought of his nephews.
You took notice of his gentleness as he talked about his nephews, which made you feel more relaxed with the idea of him taking care of Emily.
“They all have beautiful names.” You speak. “I’m not going to lie but it seems you are perfect for Emily. You have basic first aid training and CPR certifications.” You look down and read his papers. “Also, it seems Emily is already attached to you.”
You nod towards your daughter, who has her gaze fixed on Aemond while she plays. Aemond grinned at her which made the girl giggle and run towards him, showing him her favorite plush animal.
You pull up the documents for him to sign and put them in front of him. “It seems you got the job! You can read the agreement and then sign down here.” You smile. “I drive her to her school every morning. So, 3 pm you can go pick her up and she is all yours until 7 pm when I get home.”
Aemond nods and signs the paper. Opening the drawer beside you, you take a small notebook along with a key.
“Here.” You give him the book and key. “In here you will find all her allergies, her school, and our apartment address. That’s the key to our home.”
Aemond takes the book and the key from you, his pale fingers brushing gently against yours. “Thank you, Y/n.”
The way your name rolled through his tongue made your loins curl in a familiar feeling. You cough and look down to your laptop, a faint blush adorns your cheeks. Get a grip, Y/n!
There’s a small pregnant silence between you too. Aemond admires the way your face flushes so easily. Even tired, you look beautiful.
“Huh... Well! Ready for your first day?” You stand up and smile, trying to end the awkward silence.
Aemond also stood up, looking down at a very excited Emily. “Ready as I can be.” He gently grabs the girl's hand while putting her backpack on his shoulder and walks out of the office with you following close behind.
You kneel and give a big kiss on your daughter's cheek, making her giggle excitedly. “Have fun and behave.”
“Yes, mommy.” She grins and kisses your nose.
As you stand up, Aemond quickly pulls his wallet out and takes his business card. “I completely forgot to you give my card.” He says with an apologetic gaze. “My phone number is there in case you need something.”
You nod and take his business card. Emily pulls Aemond’s hand and jumps up and down. “Can I have an ice cream on our way home? Pretty please?”
Aemond looks in panic at you to which you laugh. “Yes, but only this time. Alright?”
“Yippe!” Your daughter squeals happily and pulls Aemond’s hand again. “C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go!” Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him while waving a small goodbye at you.
You waved back and watched them turn around the block, disappearing out of sight. You feel tears stinging in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of your daughter's absence drives you to panic.
“Deep breath, Y/n.” You whisper to yourself. “She’s going to be okay.”
Taking a deep breath, you look down at the business card in your hand. Your eyes widen as you see a familiar red logo. A three-headed dragon.
“Wait! He’s THE Aemond Targaryen??!!”
I hope you guys like this chapter!! Feel free to like, comment or reblog!
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