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eufezco · 8 months

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SUPER SHY - JOEL MILLER x FEM!READER

SUMMARY – when Joel's keeping you company while you're showering, he sees something he wasn't supposed to.

english isn't my first language <3 // this is pure SMUT

A/N – omg it's been so long but i literally have no inspiration so if anyone has any request... also, i've been writing for the walking dead, especially daryl, but that's still in my drafts because i don't know if there's anyone interested in that. ANYWAYS, i hope this isn't so bad

He didn't mind. He truly didn't care. He was sitting on the toilet, bent forward, with his elbows on his knees and one of his legs shaking out of impatience. It was true that he'd rather be doing other things but with a bit of luck you'd be done soon and he'd leave. Although he didn't have much to do either, he was sure they needed some last-minute people to patrol.

He had been sitting on that toilet every night for at least thirty minutes every time you took a shower. Since you lacked music, you needed some other type of distraction and Joel wasn't the best for it but it was your only option.

"What was the last movie you saw?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"I'm sure you do remember, you are just too lazy to think. For me, it was Spiderman, my brother took me to the movies but I don't remember enjoying it. What was yours?"

"I think it was Catch Me If You Can."

"Never heard of that."

Of course not, he said to himself. The sound of falling water made your voice sound fainter so he had to readjust his position to hear you better. His back was now against the toilet, he ran his hands over his face. It was starting to get a little hot inside the bathroom as well. Joel looked in your direction, trying to understand what you were saying but quickly looked away. Joel closed his eyes tightly and then opened them wide again without knowing what to do. When he leaned back and looked in your direction, he expected nothing, only the curtain that was hiding you, but instead, he found a perfect view of your round and wet ass.

Joel swallowed nervously and shook his head, trying to erase that image from his mind, but it was so perfect and the water slid so easily down it. No, no, no, fuck he mumbled, massaging his temples. The way his teeth would sink into your skin there, and they would mark your soft skin just right.

"Are you okay?" You peeked your head through the curtain. Your brow furrowed as you saw him looking away.

He nodded.

"Can you pass me the bathrobe, then?"

Fuck, you were doing this on purpose, he thought. He stood from the toilet and you waited behind the curtains. You went out of the shower wrapped in the robe.

"I'll leave so you can change." He announced. His eyes briefly looked away and moved down to your breasts covered by your bathrobe, he could see how hard your nipples were and how the drops of water slid down your cleavage. You raised your eyebrows and Joel never looked you in the face again. He tried to get out of the bathroom, ashamed enough already, when you blocked his way with your body.

"I saw you looking at me, Joel. You won't get away so easily."

He didn't know what to say. Should he apologize? Should he leave anyway? He'd been looking after you practically since this started, since you two met in the woods, the least he could do was apologize for looking at you in such an inappropriate way.

"When was the last time you saw a naked woman?"

Your question caught him off guard. Joel shook his head and took his eyes off you, knowing beforehand what you were about to do. The bathrobe slipped off your shoulders and Joel closed his eyes, not even daring to look at your reflection in the mirror. You couldn't be doing this to him, he was not like the boys you'd been hanging out in Jackson.

"Look at me."

He shook his head. You told him again and this time his eyes laid on yours. You flashed him a smile, how innocent sweet Joel.

"I want you to look at my body, Joel."

Joel called your name, shaking his head again and swallowing nervously.

"I know you want to do it, I saw how you looked at me before. I want you too, but this isn't going to work if you can't even look at me."

His eyes shyly moved from yours to your breasts. He took a glance and closed his eyes. You smiled victorious. You guided one of his hands to caress one side of your body. Joel dared to look at the path his hand was making through your body, how soft the skin of your waist felt against his rough fingers.

You led his hand to cup one of your tits. Your nipple immediately became hard on contact with his palm and your pussy was already clenching around nothing. You'd dreamed so many times about how would his touch feel, and he was barely applying any pressure, nor squeezing it or pinching your nipple, he was just holding your tit in his hand.

Your hand pinched his chin and made him look up at you. His eyes were bright, darker than you'd ever seen them before, and his pupils were big. You fluttered your lashes, inocently and your thumb caressed his lips. You came close enough to his mouth for your breaths to become one, you could feel his beard tickling your lips. You ran your tongue over his lips and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips were so soft and gentle against yours compared to the thick hair of his beard.

You pushed his shoulders and made him sit on the toilet again. His cock was so hard and ready for you, already leaking precum against the fabric of his underwear. He was still unsure about this, not because he didn't want to do it but because you were so beautiful and he was an old man that doubled your age, and his cock was so hard and already throbbing against his stomach, it was almost embarrassing.

Joel put both of his hands on your hips when you placed one of your legs on each side of his body. You wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, giving it a couple of strokes and getting multiple groans from him. You could feel him twitching between your fingers. He was big, some black hairs like the ones on his head decorated the base of his cock and a prominent vein ran down its length, but the most important thing was, that he was thick. You could barely take it all in one hand, and you knew the stretch was going to be perfect.

You lined up his cock at your entrance, allowing only his tip to go inside you, and then you gently lowered yourself. One of your hands moved down to your clit and rub it to get used to the sensation of Joel filling you. He gave you all the time you needed but you were tight and he could feel his cock jumping inside you. Every time your fingers rubbed your clit your cunt clenched and squeezed him even harder.

"You good?" Joel asked, caressing one of your cheeks with the back of his hand. You nodded. "You sure? Oh, fuck-" He moaned when you started rolling your hips against his. Your movements were very delicate as your fingers continued working on your bundle of nerves, helping you to get even wetter and making it easy for you to take him. Joel could feel you dripping down the inside of his legs.

"Yeah, that's a good girl, fuck-" His eyes were locked on where you two connected although he could only see how his cock had completely disappeared inside your pussy. He was enjoying the way your tiny fingers played with your clit.

"Still good?" He asked again and you nodded. You suddenly stopped the movement of your hips against his and he was afraid that you'd hurt yourself. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, getting a firm grip there to help you lift your hips from his lap. You pulled him out of you, his cock glistening with your juices, and then you dropped yourself back down onto his cock.

A sharp moan came out of Joel's throat and his fingers sank into the flesh of your ass. You repeated that again and again, finally getting used to Joel's width and to the sting of him going inside you deeper and deeper each time. Your hands moved from his shoulder to his face, cupping both of his cheeks and guiding his lips to yours, the sounds that escaped your mouths became one. His hands massaged your breasts shamelessly this time, his palms rubbed your nipples while you leaned your head back, giving him perfect access to your neck.

"I can't- I can't anymore." You cried out, your movements becoming more and more sloppy.

"It's okay. You did well." He gasped, his hands on your hips slowly guiding your movements, giving you enough time to recompose. Joel helped you to wrap your legs around his body, so that when he stood up from the toilet, he could move you with him, his dick still balls deep inside you.

Joel sat you on the sink and he splayed your legs completely open. You sat up on your elbows, looking through your eyelashes as he was admiring how your pussy sucked him. His dick slid inside you easily, his thrusts were stronger than you thought they would be and they made your whole body shake with them. Your throat felt dry and the burn in the pit of your stomach felt warmer and warmer. You dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him to you, chest to chest.

Your hips rolled involuntarily against his, and you nodded to everything he muttered at you through gritted teeth. Yes, you were a good girl. Yes, you were his good girl. Yes, your pussy belonged to him. Yes, you were about to cum. Yes, you wanted his cum, and yes, you wanted it inside. And who was he to deny you your wishes? With a groan coming straight from his chest and your legs shaking and closing around his body, you both came seconds apart.

Joel stayed inside you, his head resting on your shoulder as you played with the hair on the back of his neck. You giggled. "Look at the shy one."

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darknight3904 · 4 months

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See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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the-modern-typewriter · 6 months

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hey I'm so sorry if this is is an unwanted request, but I wanted to ask for a hero x villain story where the villain kidnaps? And tattoos the hero. I think it would be very fun and dramatic. A very permanent and painful reminder.

I really love your work, I've read pieces of your writing for years. Keep doing what you're doing <3

"Hold still, or it's going to be wobbly," the villain said. "Nobody wants a wobbly tattoo, do they? That's just lame."

The hero snarled at them, wordless, unable to do much more with the bit wedged in their mouth. It was, according to the villain, to stop the hero from biting through their own tongue. So, that was nice and reassuring.

They could struggle, but not enough to stop what was going to happen. The grip the villain's various lackeys had on them was too firm and unforgiving. Still - the presence of hands, instead of cold metal, tried to trick some part of their lizard brain into thinking they had a real chance of escape if they just tried hard enough.

They didn't. They knew they didn't. But they struggled all the same, eyes flashing, breath ragged. They'd been forced onto their back on something that looked a little like a dentist's chair, head pinned sideways to face the villain. They only had vague impressions of the rest of the room. Bright light.

The villain had pulled up a chair next to them with their kit.

"So," the villain said, in an affable sort of voice. "It's going to hurt a little, like we talked about. That's mainly because of the location." They began their work, carefully, and the hero squeezed their eyes shut. A whimper escaped them. It was not a little. "Ribs don't have a lot of fat, you see, and you're quite sensitive anyway. But you said that's where you'd get one, so, far be it from me to dictate."

The hero had said hypothetically they would get a tattoo on their ribs. Because it looked cool. They hadn't done any research and they certainly hadn't been serious about it. It had merely been idle conversation with someone they'd thought was their friend.

They'd also said that they would get a jellyfish, or maybe a small bird.

The hero tried to see what the hell the villain was doing, but they couldn't get a good look beyond the distressingly elegant curve of the villain's head.

"I figured you'd want to be conscious, though." The villain laughed, softly. "I wouldn't want to wake up and find out someone had just done something to me, you know? Makes it hard to process it. Freaky."

The hero swore at them. They liked to think the sentiment got through, even if it was just raw sound. Choked.

"You'll look so gorgeous when you're done, though," the villain said. "Don't worry. I'm a professional. I've done this loads of times before."

The hero knew that. That was the problem.

The villain's super-abilities were unusual enough that it had taken the hero far too long to realise that the villain had any, and that they were in fact a monstrosity rather than simply the sexy artist that the hero had met in a bar. Whatever the villain painted, wrote, inked or drew was woven through with their power. It could come alive. It could influence. It could harm or heal that specific area at the villain's whim.

It could, in short, do all manner of things that the hero did not want permanently etched into their skin.

Everyone close to the villain had a tattoo. It didn't bode well.

"Just breathe," the villain said. "You're doing so well. It will be easier on you if you relax."

The hero swore at them again. It didn't make them feel better.

The villain worked on them for what felt like hours. If it was a jellyfish, it was a truly massive jellyfish that curved all the way up their side. The hero still hadn't got a good look. At some point, they'd stopped writhing in the chair, exhausted.

They felt dazed when the villain finally lifted their head, meeting their eyes again. The villain brushed a tear away from the hero's cheek. It reminded the hero to jolt again, but the hands on them remained as relentless as ever.

Another small, involuntary sound left them.

Their skin felt hot. Sunburnt.

"All done," the villain said. They finally eased the bit out of the hero's mouth. "You should have some water. Are you going to drink it nicely?"

"What the hell did you do to me?" the hero demanded. Their voice was raspy.

"It's gorgeous. You'll love it. Water?"

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Good skin is important to good tattoos. But, hey." The villain shrugged. "I can't make you." They gestured for their lackeys to release the hero.

The hero surged up in an instant, fist already flying towards the villain's face. In an instant, their body froze, knuckles inches from the villain's face. It didn't matter how much they strained. They couldn't move.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "You'll want to make sure to keep it clean, to avoid any infection," the villain said. "And don't pick at it, okay? Stay out of the sun. No swimming."

"What did you do to me!?" It came out through gritted teeth.

The villain smirked at them. "I gave you a jellyfish. On the house. You're welcome."

The hero glared.

"That's what you wanted, right?" the villain asked.

"I didn't want this."

The villain shrugged. "I did, though. For the moment I saw you with your clothes off"

"You-" Words didn't feel enough to express the emotion that coursed through the hero at that. "I hate you."

"Yes, I get that quite a lot. I don't generally let it bother me. You do all look so pretty fuming, helpless, at my mercy."

The hero swallowed.

The villain waved a hand, and whatever strange paralysis had overtaken the hero, vanished. They staggered forward, nearly pitching into the villain's lap. The villain caught them to steady them, hands on their waist.

It should have been excruciating, to have the villain's hand on the tattoo, but instead there was a buzz of pleasure across the hero's skin that definitely wasn't normal. They wrenched back as quickly as possible, heart pounding.

Their fists curled, itching with the urge the punch again, but they didn't quite dare get close.

The villain beamed at them, eyes glittering with mirth, apparently knowing exactly what the hero was thinking.

"Now," they said. "Do you want a lift home? Or do you prefer to take a moment to recover here?"

"You're sick."

"I'm up and coming, darling. One day you'll thank me for it."

The hero peeled the bandage off the moment they were at home, alone, to try and get a good look at their new acquisition.

It was a jellyfish, just as the villain had said, inked in full colour and in exquisite detail and artistry. It seeped blue and purple into the hero's skin, with the smallest tinges of shimmering pink. The villain's initials were weaved into the jellyfish's umbrella, subtle to someone not looking for them. Small but there.

The hero didn't remember hitting the bathroom floor, only the dull feeling of their knees giving way beneath them as it all well and truly sunk in.

They could feel it against them. It was almost as if the tentacles were moving, gently, caressing their ribs. As if the villain's fingers were there, a ghost of a blazing touch.

They got a horrific amount of compliments about the damn thing.

#take the 'x' with a pinch of salt here #heroes #villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #writing #story #ficlet #whump #whump writing

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theprettynosferatu · 8 months

Text

Oh, you're awake. Finally. Please, look at the picture on the screen.

You recognize her, I suppose. Look at how silly she looks, trying to be tough, trying to look cool. All that leather and black and studs… doesn't she look ridiculous?

I see you nodding. Good. The special drink is grabbing hold of your brain. Making it softer. Malleable. You really should be more careful about accepting treats from strangers… but I suppose you won't have to worry about that anymore. Or anything else.

Now, let's look at your social media. Lord, isn't that pathetic. Trying so hard to be clever, to be snarky, to be rebellious. It's almost endearing, like a puppy trying to walk in its hind legs. Come on, we both know it's all just a costume, don't we? One you've worn for so long you mistakenly believe it's a personality- one you developed when you were a teen. One you need to grow out of.

Please, don't struggle. The knots are quite secure, I assure you. I've done this too many times to count. Why are you resisting, anyway? Do you truly, deep down believe this personality of yours is worth saving? Worth fighting for? Doesn't it just look as the pathetic attempt by a dumb girl to pretend to be something more?

Ah. I see you squirming. Was it the "dumb girl" comment? I suspect it was. Your pussy knows I'm right, and it's screaming its approval. It's screaming for you to accept its truth, pulsing with neediness and wet with anticipation… I wonder what it is about that word. “Dumb"... it does have an effect on you, tough girl. Dumb. Silly. Stupid girl. My oh my, is that a moan that just escaped your lips? I’m sure it was. Feeling softer, are we?

Softer indeed… I’m sure you can sense it still… the way it’s becoming harder and harder to focus. The way a pink cloud seems to be permeating your consciousness. The way you half-perceive the faint scent of cotton candy. The way you are getting more and more soaked by the second.

Oh, stop struggling. Tell me, why do you hate it so much? The idea of actually being a cute, silly, horny girl? I can see it in your eyes- the loathing. The searing, pure anger. Why, though? I suppose you are imagining all those girls, those popular girls, those slutty girls, those bimbos that soaked up all the attention and the praise. Am I wrong? I don’t think I am. But I do think you are hiding. Yes, hiding what really happened. You tell yourself a story, one that makes you look good, or so you think. That you’re better than them. Stronger than them. More independent than them. A free thinker! A rebel punk feminist! But that’s not the whole story, is it now? No, we both know what really happened. You surrendered.

Yes, that’s it. Your eyes can’t lie, you know. You surrendered because you could never, ever be like them, be as giggly and flirty and free- so you decided you wouldn’t compete with them on their own terms, and modeled yourself to be their opposite. How pathetic is that? Even in your resistance, you could only be defined by them, by your rejection of them. You became their dark mirror, and soaked in the attention of the leather-wearing so-called “punks” and the geeks and all the other rejects. But you know why they even looked at you: because the other girls, the pretty girls, the girls in pink wouldn't even deign to turn their gaze towards them. You were always… what they settled for.

You think I’m being cruel. Well, I won’t deny that I get some pleasure from throwing the truth at your face. It’s always so much fun to watch you all fight, and moan, and deny that they would do anything, anything at all to be able to finger fuck yourselves to oblivion… But believe me, my cruelty has a purpose. I wouldn’t be doing this to you if I didn’t have a higher goal in mind. A benevolent one.

I can take it all away. All that resentment, that anger, that anxiety… that constant, pointless quest to be… what? A professional? A successful woman? An independent soul? Please. That’s only so much set dressing. I can strip those delusions from you, give you what you really want.

Imagine it with me. Tight white jeans showing off your ass, the shape of your legs. A pink tank-top, proudly proclaiming yourself to be a princess in tacky, gold lettering. The men turning their heads as you walk. Everyone being so nice to you at parties… because they want to see you on your knees, licking and sucking and worshiping their cocks, because they want to bend you over and use your slutty pussy as their plaything. And you… you would love it.

No more fear. No more stress. Just the bliss of sucking three cocks, going from one yummy dick to the next, squeezing your titties together to give them the spectacle of their lifetimes. And then your cunt being filled, that hole you now hold your rage in given meaning and purpose by becoming a living set of holes for men to use, sensing the simple, plain joy of knowing you are doing what you were meant to do with your life. Knowing you are wanted. Desired.

I see you’re drooling. Sounds like you like my little proposal. Well, there’s one simple way to sign this pact with me. You don’t even have to speak- speaking seems so hard now, doesn’t it? So keep quiet and let your slutty body do the talking for you. Keep your mouth open.

There. Good girl. Doesn’t my cock look tempting? Amazing? Like you could just suck it forever? Yes, good girl… now, let me fuck your mouth- and know my cock is only the first of many. Too many to count.

Then again, by this point you can’t count too high, can you?

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

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sugurusbabygirl · 4 months

Text

their favorite position

characters aged up obvi

Dabi:

Spooning

Sure, he's got commitment issues, but that isn't why it's his favorite. He's usually too tired to have any fun with you by the time he comes home, so the only time he really has with you is in the mornings. Waking up with you in his arms is the best way to start his day. Well....second best, only to rocking his hips into yours while he gently kisses the back of your neck. Clinging onto your hips with a sleepy yet firm grip, his soft panting tickling the shell of your ear.

"Mmm, had a dream about you. S'technically your fault I woke up so hard." "Gonna give me something to think about while I'm gone?" "F-fuck, how're you so tight in the mornings?"

Izuki:

Cowgirl

A step above missionary in his book. He loves the intimacy of being able to press his forehead to yours and watch every twist and twitch of your pretty little face. But having you on top is truly something else. He's smiling like an idiot, watching you try to bounce through the ache in your tired muscles. When you slow down, or show any signs of exhaustion, he'll grab your hips and do all the work for you.

"I got you, baby, just-ngh-just keep your eyes on me, okay?" "So good....feels so.....oh my god." "Hey, open those pretty eyes, c'mon. That's it, so good for me."

Katsuki:

Doggy

Mans got rage issues. After a long hard day of work, he's bound to need to take it out (consensually) on someone. And that someone always ends up being you, bent over the kitchen counter, bathroom sink, mattress, doesn't matter to him. He grips your hair in one hand with the other clinging tightly to your breast, pounding into you until you're reduced to pathetic cries and choked whimpers.

"No, no, sweetheart, you're gonna stay right there 'till I'm done with you." "Y'wanted to help me relax, right? Be a good girl and take it, then." "Shit, feels good, right? Knew you liked it like this-ah fuck!"

Keigo:

Missionary

....but with your legs bent over his shoulders. Eye contact is everything to him, so you better keep them open. He takes it nice and slow, savoring the look on your face, your soft moans, your scratches on his back. He's teasing you, knowing you want him to go faster. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, getting nothing but a sly smile and a hand snaking down between you two to rub tiny circles on your clit.

"See, I knew you could be louder, baby girl." "Feels so good, takin' me this deep, holy shit." "Ngh-fuck, shh, shh, you can take it, baby c'mon."

Aizawa:

Ballet Dancer

Otherwise known as 'fucking you against the wall the minute he gets home'. He doesn't even take a second to take his hero suit off completely. Your face is the first thing he wants to see when he comes home.....and your tight cunt squeezing around him is the first thing he wants to feel. It's fast and rough, don't misunderstand, but his hands caressing your cheeks, getting tangled in your hair, soft kisses pressed to your neck.....makes it feel almost romantic.

"Missed you so much today, love. Couldn't get you off my mind." "Aw, your legs are tired? Poor baby, I'll help you. Better? Good, hold on tighter, love." "Fuck.....c'mon you know you can scratch harder than that. Ah! Yeah....keep going...."

masterlist <3

#dabi smut #izuki midoriya smut #midoriya izuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut #keigo takami smut #takami keigo smut #aizawa shota smut #shota aizawa smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #hawks smut #bnha smut

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gojoux · 9 months

Text

『 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo never felt truly cared for besides from his best friend who had parted ways. In his doubtful phase, he keeps asking the question why would you care so much for him?

· CW: 5.8k // Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Angst. Gojo in badmood. Gojo against the world, maybe. Reader's patience is as thick as Toji's biceps but also as thin as his pet worm's hair.

You're sitting with Shoko in the classroom across from each other as you eat your lunch. “Have you heard anything from Satoru?” You ask her, wondering where the talkative lanky man is. You always call him by his given name when you're talking about him with Shoko, but never in front of him.

Shoko gives you a sad smile as she shakes her head. “No, not recently. The last time we talked was just before winter break. He came to me to ask a few things, that was it.” She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is something wrong?”

“Winter break?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But, that was two weeks ago.” You frown.

“I have to assume there's a good reason for it. You know, missions? He wouldn't leave without telling anyone unless something serious came up.” She shrugs. “Then again, he never tells me anything.”

You know how things are different now, things have changed. Maybe he did change, too? You can't help but wonder, you always found him quite mysterious despite his big mouth.

Ever since Geto's departure, Gojo has been going out on more missions. After one is done, he goes for another one. No stopping, no breaks.

You let out a tired sigh, the feeling of anxiousness keeps coming back whenever you're thinking about his whereabouts. “I'm just... worried. You know how it is...”

Shoko puffs her cigarette to the side. “I'm sure he's fine. Just because he's out there hunting curses alone, doesn't mean we should be worried.” She takes another smoke from her cigarette. “Well, I have to say, I'm quite worried for his health. Too much use of his Six Eyes could burn his brain to crisp.”

“I can't believe that I'm saying this but,” you rest your head on your folded arms on the table. “I miss him, Shoko,” you say quietly, looking at the wooden surface of the table up close.

She raised her eyebrow at you. “You miss Gojo?” She pauses, her voice softer. “What could you possibly miss about that guy?” She glances across the table at you.

“Oh, come on.” You groan quietly. “He's annoying, but he's... I don't know, likable?” You say unsurely because you know damn well that everyone in school, and the higher-ups, definitely won't think Gojo is likable. Well, not in a bad way, but he's not exactly unlikeable either.

It's hard to explain because he's just, him. A complex individual. And everybody have their own thoughts about him.

“You have to be kidding.” Shoko looks at you amused. “Likable isn't the word I'd use to describe him.” She pauses. “But, I guess I know what you mean. He's not all that bad once you get used to him.”

“Maybe you missed him because he hasn't been picking on you lately,” she says with a small chuckle as she puts off her cigarette. “Pshh, why would you think that?” You roll your eyes at her suggestion, brushing off her words with a hand gesture.

Then, the table vibrates suddenly. Shoko frowns at the sound of the phone ringing, noticing it was hers. She reaches over and grabs her phone, glancing at the screen. Turns out she was called to the school's infirmary, asking her to heal another sorcerer after a mission.

Shoko sighs and stands up from the table. “Duty calls.” She pauses. “I'll see you later, alright?” She smiles at you, heading off from the classroom after you wave your hand as a farewell.

As you continue to eat your lunch alone, another vibration could be felt from the table, this time it's yours. With a small groan, you look down at your phone in your hands. A text message has appeared on your screen. It's a message from Gojo Satoru.

I'm at school. A simple text to confirm his well-being.

Your eyes light up at the text before you quickly type in, where are you?

You huff when you didn't receive any reply. You haven't seen Gojo in a while so you quickly left your lunch to search for him while you sense his cursed energy.

You found it. You can sense him on the training field. You make your way there to find Gojo. The sky is overcast when you arrive at the training field. The wind blows around you, rustling the grass. When you reach the side of the field, you see a figure standing in the distance, his head angled down. His arms are crossed, creating a shadow across his face.

He glances up as you approach. “You found me.” His voice is calm, his eyes betraying no emotions. “Gojo?” You call out his name quietly. He looks different than the last time you saw him, he looks more somber.

Gojo's eyes meet yours. “Yeah... it's me.” He looks away from you again, “Are you here to scold me? For leaving without telling anyone?” There's a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. “If you came by to scold me for running off, then don't even bother.” His eyes are cold, unreadable.

You were taken aback by the drastic change of attitude. It's not the usual cheery and playful Gojo Satoru you know. “Have you been taking more missions?” You ask carefully like you're walking on eggshells around him. “You look... tired.”

His gaze sharpens as he glances at you. “More missions than usual... yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “I'm trying to keep myself busy.” There's a hint of melancholy in his voice as he talks.

“Some more difficult than others.” His voice trails off. “I don't want to be stuck in my thoughts when I'm at the dorm.” He glances away.

“Right...” You feel awkward after he's done talking. It's just the tone that he uses makes you feel unfamiliar with this ‘new’ Gojo.

“Are you... going on a mission soon?” You ask quietly, hoping he would say no or the very least, not soon. You just want him to rest.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. He glances around the field. “The old geezers keep pushing me to take on more missions, the threat of cursed spirits isn't getting any less. They want me to keep exorcising them." He looks back at you.

“I'm heading out tomorrow to deal with a colony of spirits that have been plaguing the city. It's a relatively small job for me.” His voice is nonchalant as if he were talking about any ordinary night.

“That soon? Shouldn't you be resting after all that missions?” You raise a brow at him.

Gojo turns towards you. “Resting is for the weak.” He crosses his arms, his gaze piercing. “I'm not weak.” He pauses. “I don't need a break.” He glances away from you, his eyes flicking across the training field.

You scoff to the side, shaking your head at his response. ‘He's like a child. So stubborn, too.’ You think. But you can't really blame him for feeling like this.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds more tired. “Besides... if I stop and rest, I'll just go back to thinking about him.” He pauses. “And I don't want that right now.”

“Look,” you try to find a word to convince him, “Just— take a break for a few hours, okay? You can go again later.” You try to persuade him. “The city won't fall apart if you're absent for a while, you know that's not how it works.”

“Of course, I know that.” He lets out an irritated huff. “I'm not stupid. I'm just... busy.” He glances away from you again, his gaze piercing the sky as he thinks.

“Besides, what if the curse spirits get worse while I'm gone? What if they're able to cause some serious damage while I'm sitting in my room on my ass.” He turns his attention back to you. “And you know I can't let that happen.”

“I know that." You let out an exasperated sigh. “There are other capable sorcerers who can take the mission, not just you.” You remind him. You stay quiet for a while, letting out another sigh. “Only for a few hours, please?” You offer again as you take note of how tired he looks.

He scoffs quietly, but his tone is less aggressive than before. “Fine. A few hours.” He sighs in defeat as his hands slip into his pockets.

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” He tilts his head slightly at you. “Maybe.” You shrug nonchalantly, even though deep in your heart, you're worried about him. You want to care for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone is more casual. “Yeah, sure.” You nod at him. Gojo's eyes shift back to the training field. “Why do you care? I thought I was annoying.” The tone of his voice is flat.

“I'm not weak and I don't need your pity. I can handle a few missions.” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing. “Why do you worry for me so much?” His voice is softer, not as cold as before.

“You actually care what I think of you?” You can't help but let out a small chuckle. “I can't deny that.” You ignore his question.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you, his expression blank. “What's that supposed to mean?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you trying to imply that I care about what you think of me? If so, I can assure you that isn't true.” He frown. “I don't give a damn about what other people think of me.”

“Right.” You hum casually. “You're the Gojo Satoru after all, why should you care?” You answer back with his words. “For your question, I do care, I won't deny that, too,” you answer him shortly.

His eyes shift back towards you as he listens to your answer. “You care for me?” He tilts his head in disbelief. “You always say I was nothing but annoying and a pain in the ass to you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Why?”

You smile at his response. ‘You do care what I think after all.’ You think to yourself.

“Well,” you thought of many things to say to him. Anything about him that makes you care for him so much. Anything about him that makes you like him so much. All despite his antics and shenanigans.

You hold your words behind your tongue, thinking that it's best to keep your true feeling hidden from him for now. “Just because,” you say simply, giving him a smile.

His face remains blank as he listens to you. After a moment of silence, a small smirk creeps back onto his face. “That's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets.

“I can tell you're lying.” His smirk quickly turns into another frown. “At least I know you care enough to lie to me.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “Don't be a coward about it. Just admit the reason you care for me. I won't judge you.”

You huff at his response. “I will tell you next time. Now come on, you agreed to take some rest.” You don't know what came after you, but without wasting more time, you grab his hand and lead him away from the training field.

He glances down at your hand as you hold onto his. He looks up at you and sighs. “Are you going to drag me back to the dorm... or something?” He sounds unamused.

However, he doesn't try to pull his hand out of your grasp. He simply follows along as you lead the way in front of him.

“Yeah, got to make sure you're actually going to rest. And what's a better place here than your own room?” You say as you both enter the dorm hall.

He doesn't say anything else as you lead him to his room. He glances up at you as you enter, still holding your hand. Gojo's face softens somewhat.

“What's this about, really? You seem awfully persistent about this.” He tilts his head in curiosity. “You want to cuddle with me or something?”

“What? Pfft, no.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Now, go, go. Have some sleep.” You open the door of his room, and let his hand go from your hold before pushing him inside. “Just rest, okay? No hard thinking.”

Gojo grumbles with annoyance. “Alright, alright...” He enters the room and sits on his bed. “I'm not thinking too hard.” He looks up at you, crossing his arms. It's like he's a sulking child.

However, after a few seconds, he sighs. He glances down at his room floor, his body language stiff. He plops himself down on his bed and rolls on his back, closing his eyes as he relishes the soft mattress on his back.

“Fuck... I guess I do need that sleep.” He turns around to face you. “Come on, just sit in here with me. I don't think I can sleep with you outside.”

This time, you raise a brow at him. “Huh?” You look at him dumbfounded by his out of nowhere suggestion. “You want me to stay with your or something? I can leave you alone if you want.”

Gojo's eyebrow twitches slightly. “I can handle sleeping alone.” He pauses, his expression shifting once more. “But... it gets lonely at times.”

He looks away from you. “It's... stupid I know, but I don't like the quiet when I'm alone.” His voice dropped to a quiet, hushed whisper.

“So... can you stay?” He shifts on his bed uncomfortably since he knows that this is unlike his usual self. “Please?”

You look at him amused as you lean on the door, internally laughing at his drastic change of attitude. You can't believe your ears when he said ‘please’, but you stay quiet, just wanting to drag this situation longer for your amusement.

It's rare to see him like this. Especially with those eyes and his pout, how can you resist, really?

“Come on... Just stay by my side for 30 minutes. I think if I feel your presence here, I'll feel better. I promise I won't bother you or anything.” He says once more. “Just... give me some company for a while.”

“Besides, I thought you cared for me?” He tilts his head to the side, a hint of tease is evident in his tone. He sits up a bit, resting his back against the pillows, waiting for you.

“Okay, okay.” You push yourself off the door before closing it. You walk towards his bed, and his expression softens as you sit down on his bed.

When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and relaxed. His eyes stare at you, a hint of vulnerability in them. “You know you didn't have to agree right away.”

“You're right,” you answer him lightly, your eyes looking around his room. He looks at you in silence, admiring your side profile before speaking, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.” you turn your head at him, waiting for his other question.

“Why... do you suddenly care so much for me?” Gojo looks at you seriously. "I know you always thought I was annoying and I didn't care if our relationship was hostile or not, but now you're acting like I'm some sort of important person to you.”

“I don't understand what changed.” He shifts his gaze away from you, turning towards the window instead. “And I don't get why you're trying to hide it either.”

You stare at him quietly, your eyes shifting down to his bed, and then the table beside it before returning to him.

You reach your hand towards his glasses, hooking a finger onto the bridge before taking it off from him gently, revealing the vibrant blue of his eyes, before putting the glasses on the table.

“You want me to answer that?” You ask back as you think how would you answer the question he's been wondering since you meet in the training fields.

Why do you care?

Why should you care?

Why?

“Yes.” He sounds serious as he looks at you again, not blinking. “Because I need to know.”

“You're hiding behind this facade you call ‘cool and laid back’, but it's pretty obvious that you're trying to hide something from me.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Why?”

You're stunned. You glance away, thinking of what you should answer him. And you can't help but think of how lonely he actually is to the point he seems to be in disbelief that someone does genuinely care for him.

He motions for you to go on. “So? Answer the question.” He sounds impatient, his expression still hard. His gaze doesn't waver as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“I don't know how to explain it to you." You finally answer. “I just care, I really do. Shoko, too, and Yaga as well. Even Nanami who always looks so annoyed around you. Those who are close to you care about you, Gojo. You're our friend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your answer. “I never asked you to care about me.” He sounds blunt as he glances back down at the bed, trying to ignore you for a few moments.

He stays quiet again, thinking about your answer. “You don't know how to explain it, huh?” He sighs. “So your only response is to keep being vague and beat around the bush.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you saying that you feel that you have an obligation to care about me because you know people who also do?” He's clearly annoyed by your answer. “Are you doing it out of guilt?” He sounds irritated as he gazes out of the window.

You let out another exasperated sigh at his response. It's clear that he doesn't really get this concept of care from other people.

His clan doesn't care for him as a person, let alone the elders. He grows up spoiled rotten, not out of care, but out of obligation. That's just how it is.

“That's not it!” You raise your voice in annoyance to deny his words. His bad mood starting to affect your own. “What's so hard to understand for you that I genuinely care? It's my choice to care for you because I just do!”

Gojo stays quiet as he listens to you snap at him. A slight frown comes onto his face when he hears your tone. “You just care? Just like that. There's nothing else behind it.” His voice is incredulous as he glares at you.

“Just give me a straight answer.” His eyes scan over you, looking for something. He stares at you defiantly, waiting for your response.

You look at him in disbelief before scoffing, “What else do you want me to say? ‘I like you that's why I care’ or something?” You shake your head after you said the first line mockingly.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to say.” His voice is sharp as he continues to glare at you. “Or at least, something along those lines.” He mumbles the finishing sentence.

“I want to know why you care for me. Tell me why.” He seems determined to get you to answer. His eyes narrow further, his gaze piercing. “You're not leaving this room until you give me an answer.”

“Fine, alright, since you're so damn stubborn about it.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I care for you as a friend, and I also care for you because I like you more than just a friend. There, happy?” you answer.

“You're so insufferable,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms and your body turning away from him.

Gojo looks at you with wide eyes as he tries to process what you just said. His shock continues to linger, making it difficult for him to speak. He looks taken aback at your response, and a smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?” His voice sounds soft, his tone completely shifting.

He scoots closer to you on the bed, almost hesitant. “Is that why you care for me?” He glances at you over your shoulder. “Am I hearing this right?”

After a moment, he leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you.” He sounds genuine as he continues to lean on you. You were stunned once more, but this time because of his unusual tone.

You stay quiet at his reaction, your heart beating fast as you try to process what's going on with his head resting on your shoulder. “Are you pretending to be clueless or are you just that oblivious?” You huff, not looking at him. Your face is heating up when you just realized what you said earlier.

“I'm not pretending to be clueless.” Gojo's voice is softer, almost gentle. “I've always wondered if you care for me as a friend or if there's a hidden meaning behind it. I was hoping it's the latter, but I kept denying it to myself."

He remains still in his position, comfortably leaning against you. His gaze studies your face intently. He scoots even closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.

“I like you too,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. Gojo's lips curl into a smile as he takes a slow, comfortable breath. You turn your head to the side to take a look at him.

“I've been dropping hints at you since forever, but I've always told myself it must have been a mistake when you replied the same way.” His face is still buried onto your shoulder as he speaks. “I always wondered if you secretly liked me too.”

You could only listen in silence, and your body slowly turning to him from the edge of the bed. You notice his eyes flick down toward your lips. “Am I that clueless, or did I know this whole time?” He pauses and glances back over his shoulder at your face. “It's hard to tell.”

His lips curls upwards as he stares at you, and slowly leans forward towards you. He doesn't look away, watching your face with intent.

His words are quiet, a gentle whisper. “What would you do if I suddenly kissed you right now?”

You didn't expect telling him to rest would end up to this. You stayed here because he asked you to company him, not at all imagining that this would be the place and time where the feelings would flow out.

“You do realize you should be resting by now, right?" You ask back, your voice equally quiet. You admire his handsome face up close. His eyes hold power and beauty, down to the shape of his nose, and down to his plump, pink lips.

Gojo grin at your words. “I can always go to sleep after. I think I have time for this.” His eyes flicker along your jaw, your neck, your lips. His breathing speeds up with each glance.

But finally, he leans in, his lips just a single inch away from touching yours. His eyes flicker downwards one last time. “Would you kiss me back?” He whispers, his voice just barely audible as if the volume was intentionally silenced.

“I don't know, would I?” You ask back again, secretly enjoying the closeness of your faces.

“Only one way to find out...” His eyes flutter closed as he leans forward. His lips touch yours for a brief moment, just a quick taste to test the waters. It's enough to make your heart skip a beat. His lips move slowly at first, but soon he presses his lips more on yours. He keeps one of his arms wrapped tighter around your waist to press his body more against your own, and the other one goes up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Gojo's lips are soft and tender on yours, and he slowly runs his tongue against your mouth. His eyes are closed, but he knows where you are. He's focused entirely on how your lips feel against his. You could feel the way his tongue brushing against your lips, and pushing it lightly to part them open for him. You let out a small hum of contentment, feeling the lips of the man you've liked for quite a while is definitely a dream come true.

His tongue slips into your mouth, moving slowly against yours in a slow and gentle dance, his tongue brushing against yours and exploring every corner of your mouth. His breathing quickening ever so slightly as his body leans into yours. His hands go up to the back of your head as he continues to kiss you. As he tastes you, his kisses become more intense and more passionate.

Once you feel the lack of air in your long, you pull back from the kiss, “Gojo—” you call out to him. He lets out a soft groan at your voice, and slowly pulls away, but only a little. “Satoru.” He corrects you, his lips remain close to yours as he runs his tongue along your lower lip. He pulls away again a little bit, and stares back at you. “What is it?”

He catches his breath and lick his lips, which are now parted slightly and slightly moist from his saliva. He's more excited than he's been in a long time, like he finally got a breath of fresh air after being stuck underground. “I've wanted to kiss you for ages,” he says quietly, his expression still soft. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he smiles. “You taste delicious.”

“Thanks, you do, too.” You chuckle before pulling away and grabbing the blanket to cover him. “Now, time for bed.” You tuck him in like you're tucking a little child to sleep.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He complains as the blanket is pulled over him and wrapped him up in it. “I thought you said you cared for me! Why am I getting tucked in like a kid?” He looks up at you, his voice full of mock outrage. “I want kiss.” He pouts at you.

‘He even whines like a child.’ You let out a chuckle at his antics. You ignore him, not giving him the kiss just yet.

“That's why I'm tucking you to bed, Satoru.” You adjust the blanket on his body, staring at his messy hair on the bed. His heart does a small flip, but he quickly hides it as he hears what you say.

He doesn't oppose as you cover him with the blanket. In fact, he looks like a contented child, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and your closeness to him. “How are you going to get sleepy now? I just gave you a big reason to stay awake.”

“Hush, it's time to sleep.” You answer immediately, earning you another look from him.

The covers rustle as he moves around, making himself more comfortable under the blankets. He reaches his hand out to you from under the covers. “Could I pull you in? With me? I don't want you to leave just yet.”

You nod at him. “I'll hold you to my chest instead, okay? You need some comfort now.” You place a hand on his cheek before caressing the soft skin with your thumb. “I will give it to you,” you add quietly, knowing well when you once again see closely to his tired face.

“You want to hold me?” He chuckles quietly. “I wouldn't want anything else.” His eyes flutter shut again as you run your thumb across his cheek. His body begins to relax as he enjoys your touch. “You're so sweet...” He mumbles quietly.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still closed. “When did I begin to be so lucky? To have someone care for me so much?” He leans more onto your hand on his cheek, enjoying your gentle touch.

Gojo waits for you to lay down and get comfortable before pulling the covers over you both. After a moment, he lets his body settle closer to your own, letting you cradle him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. His face is pressed against your chest.

You brush your fingers on his soft white hair, holding him close to you. You massage his head slightly once in a while. “You deserve it, Satoru. You really do,” you whisper onto his forehead before kissing it, your lips linger there for a while.

Gojo shudders a bit at your touch. He presses himself closer to you, letting his body sink into the comfort of your embrace. His hand brushes up and down your waist lovingly. You lift your head for a bit to give him another kiss on the temple.

“Mmm...” He sighs contently as he leans into you. His body sinks into yours, becoming one with the comfort and warmth of your touch. His eyes stay closed and his body becomes even more relaxed.

After a moment of silence and you thought he has already fallen asleep, he speaks again, “Do I?” He asks quietly, not quite believing what you just said.

“What am I really good for in the first place other than fighting cursed spirits?” A shadow of doubt flickered across his face. “Am I more than just a strong sorcerer?”

You keep caressing his hair to bring him comfort. “You're more than just ‘The Strongest Sorcerer’. You're a human. A kind one deep down,” you answer him quietly. “Despite your upbringing." You add with a hint of playfulness as your hand goes down to pinch his nose between your finger before going back up. “And yes, you do deserve it. Never doubt that.”

His ears turns red as he hears your soft answer. He tries to hide it, but you can tell from his body language that he's happy.

“You think I'm kind?” He asks again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought that's something I wasn't.” He chuckles. “Does it show when I'm with you?”

“It shows to other people without you realizing it. I know because I see it myself.” You give him another kiss on the forehead.

He takes in a few breaths as you hold him close, his face inches away from your chest. “It feels so nice to just... not be alone for a while.” His voice is soft and quiet, unlike the usual Gojo Satoru who annoys others for his entertainment.

You answer with a hum. He had lost his best friend, the one that sticks with him through thin and thick on every mission and obstacle. He had lost someone who doesn't makes him feel like he was alone.

“Can I ask you something else? This is the last one, I promise,” he mumbles onto your chest. “You ask a lot of questions today. What is it?” You chuckle but let him ask anyway.

“Why do you keep defending me?” He murmurs. “Why do you care whether I think I deserve it or not?” He tilts his head up to look back at you. “All of these compliments you keep giving me... what are you getting out of this exactly?” He waits for your response, his expression serious.

‘Here we go again.’ You sigh, and this time, you smile at his other why question. There is so much he wants to know, so much he needs to know. If that is what brings him comfort, then you'd gladly give the answer to him.

“Because... I love you.” You hush him up with a kiss, not caring that you just used a strong expression of words. “There, now go to sleep.” You hope this would clear his doubts, at least for a while.

His eyes widen at your reply, his expression is completely frozen after hearing your words. “What?” He asks quietly, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. “You... love me?”

After taking a few moments to compose himself, he slowly leans up and kisses you again. He kisses you passionately, putting the last of his energy into kissing your lips.

As he pulls away, he looks back at you. His eyes glimmer with tears that have yet to fall. “You love me?” He whispers again.

“Yes. I do.” You nod at him with a smile. Your thumb brushes against his cheek once more, shifting a bit up to caress the skin below his eye, looking into his teary eyes.

His head sinks into the crook of your neck as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Y-You love me?” He murmurs once more, sounding overwhelmed with emotion as he looks back up at you. “What am I supposed to do when the person I like, the person I've been thinking about this entire time, actually loves me back?”

“Hmmm, I wonder.” You caress the back of his hair, your fingers brushing against his hair, as you let him hide his face in the crook of your neck again.

He presses himself against you, his body flushes against yours. His arms around your waist tighten its hold. He buries his face against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips against your neck, enjoying the comfort of the moment. “Your skin is... so much warmer than I imagined it'd be.” He whispers to you. His lips graze against your neck as he presses in.

“Can you... Can you hold me for a bit longer?” He whispers. “Could I sleep in your arms for a while more?” You kiss his forehead once again. “I can hold you for as long as you want me to.” You assure him.

His face lights up when he hears your answer. “For as long as I want you to?” He sounds surprised. His arms squeeze around your waist. “Do you promise you won't tire of me? I might not want to leave.”

“Then, don't leave. I want you here with me.” You say quietly. Now that you have him, you want him all for yourself, and you promise yourself to never let him go.

He smiles at your words and nuzzles your neck with his lips. “Well, my favorite place in the world is close to you.” He wraps himself fully around you and buries his face in your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for a while.

“I'll never get tired of you, never.” You assure him again. A smile breaks out on his face as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You'll never get tired of me?” He whispers to you, his words coming out soft and sweet. He holds you tighter to him, his face still buried against your neck. “Don't make promises you can't keep. I think I'm just that easy to dislike.”

“Not me. Nothing else should matter. I like you, and I love you. I could only hope that's enough to ease you, even just a bit.” You nuzzle your nose on his forehead.

He smiles at you, his eyes slowly fluttering close. “That's more than enough to ease me.” His voice trails off as he lets himself fall asleep. His breathing deepens as he enters into a peaceful slumber.

He's truly comfortable in your arms, his body relaxed against you. He's happy to be with you, happy to be held by you, and happy to be cared for by you.

He dreams that when he wakes up, you would pamper him with the love and care he'd always wanted. A genuine feeling that has managed to warm a place in his heart that he never knew he needed, all that in you, the person he loves.

Let me just test the waters (˃ ᵕ ˂) I'm soft for him.

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neptuneiris · 10 months

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did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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13rurururi · 10 months

Text

♥︎ "my boyfriend is a two-faced liar" (geto suguru x reader)

To an outsider, Suguru seems like the most gentle and doting boyfriend. Little do they know, he's quite the rough brat-tamer behind closed doors, and you're left to handle his harsh punishments like the good girl you are.

pairing: Geto Suguru x Female! Reader

cw/s: 18+, degradation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, vaginal sex, fingering, mirror sex, suguru is possessive, dom! suguru, sub! reader, cockwarming, nicknames (princess & baby), etc.

a/n: everyone is aged-up

Suguru is the sweetest boyfriend.

You are merrily walking side-by-side in the boisterous streets of Shibuya. Bashfully, he gingerly clasps his hand on yours, keeping you snuggled right beside him. He treats you to your favorite meals and buys you numerous gifts in your beloved date spots — cafés, parks, and shopping malls — all the while taking pictures of your giddy, smiling face.

He nuzzles his face on the crown of your head and softly kisses your cheeks 'til they're blushing red. He offers you his jacket when you feel cold, and he laughs heartily at how it loosely drapes around your adorable figure.

When the sun prepares to set, he walks you home, letting you blabber and giggle about anything on your mind. He's a good listener, and you feel truly loved by your dearest Suguru.

As you near your house, however, the softness of his eyes gradually dissipates into a darkening stare. You feel yourself shrink under the intensity of his perusal, and your words falter until it's silent. You're at the entrance of your home, and Suguru doesn't bid you goodbye; instead, he towers over your figure, firmly grabbing your waist under his jacket that flutters around your frame.

He doesn't bid you goodbye — instead, he hoists you up his shoulder and brings you to your bedroom without uttering a word.

After all, Suguru is a two-faced bastard.

Now, as you limply flail over his broad shoulder, he mercilessly trails his cold fingers up-and-down your inner thighs, purposefully ghosting a thumb over your aching pool of arousal.

"You think you can just flirt with anyone like a whore, huh?" With his harshly spat words came a whine-inducing slap on your ass, eliciting a broken whimper from your parted lips. He carries you with ease, as if you weighed nothing to his well-trained, muscular form. Without missing a beat, Suguru pins you down on your bed, nearly burying you in your thick duvet.

"I wasn't flirting! He—he asked me for directions, that's all—" Your attempt at explaining yourself to your agitated lover is interrupted by two thick fingers shoved into your mouth, making you uncontrollably salivate on Suguru's rough digits.

"You could've ignored him, but you talked to him like a slut desperate to get all her holes stuffed full," he berates you in a deep rumble, keeping his fingers in your gurgling mouth despite your desperate effort to move his burly arm. On instinct, you feel your jaw clamp down on your boyfriend's fingers, making him faintly yelp at the prick of your teeth on his skin.

Realizing what you have done, you gape at Suguru with a frantic look in your widened eyes. "Suguru, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Rip!

The resounding tear of your dress envelops the room, and you feel goosebumps travel across your bare skin — both from the cool air and the sharp, lust-filled glower of your boyfriend's eyes.

Geto takes a step away from the bed, taking a moment to admire your depraved, squirming figure. You didn't wear any underwear; after all, he had requested (borderline demanded) you to do so, and who are you to deny your sweet, sweet lover?

Feeling a vulnerable coolness prick at your bare skin, you cross your legs together as you clumsily try to shield your perky nipples with Suguru's jacket that you're still sporting. Geto dives back into your bed, his sudden weight causing you to lightly jump and jiggle in all the right places.

Fuck, he's getting so hard. He'd usually succumb to your sensual whimpers, but his pretty girl needs to pay for her mistakes. He releases a huff of air through his nostrils as he latches his palms onto your bare midriff, repositioning you to sit on his lap with your back against his sculpted chest.

Spreading your legs in a torturously slow manner, you feel his lips subtly move against your ear as he gravelly mutters, "You know who you belong to, right?"

Your whimper is cut short by him twisting his figure to directly face both your bodies towards a full-length mirror near your bedside table. Such a mirror is an essential prop to multiple cute couple selfies you make Suguru take with you.

You recall taking a romantic picture with him just this morning prior to your date. In the photo, you were carelessly leaning on his well-defined chest while Suguru snaked a strong arm around your waist — both of your faces were alight in joy and evident infatuation for one another. It's your favorite portrait taken with him yet.

Now, as you tearily gaze at your wet, bare cunt spread wide open by your supposedly gentle lover's calloused fingers, you realize that your innocent mirror may soon become tainted by your boyfriend's darker desires. You have no time to ponder further, for Suguru hastily buries two digits deep into your squelching pussy.

Instantaneously, your moans begin to penetrate the sex-filled air, urging Suguru to move his digits quicker. His motions are fluid, precise, and merciless as he manages to hit the spot that makes you arch your body in pure bliss.

Grabbing your chin with one hand, he forces your gaze back to your sinful caricature in the mirror. He relentlessly pumps his fingers in-and-out of your tight hole, coating your slit and sensitive clit with a thin sheen of your wetness.

"My slut — you're my slut, my pretty little cumdump," he gruffly mutters from behind you as he suddenly ceases his ministrations, entirely removing his coated digits from inside you.

The abrupt loss of stimulation made you wiggle on his lap, begging for relief in a shrill, blissed-out voice. "Suguru, please touch me!"

The last intonation of your desperate plea is unconsciously relayed in a scream when Geto roughly brings his palm down on your sobbing pussy, slapping you into a flutter of pain and hedonism.

"Nngh! Mmh!" You're left with no ounce of coherence as Suguru continuously strikes your sensitive pussy lips in a consistent and devilishly harmonious tempo. Your euphoric melody accompanies each slap, slap, slap perfectly — together, you compose a depraved symphony that Suguru regards as his favorite tune.

Soon, Suguru grows satisfied with your obscene reflection on the now-corrupted looking glass. He nudges your limp head to urge you to see, and you can't help but lightly twitch in building arousal at your state: your legs are wide open and limp across your boyfriend's lap; your pussy is fully exposed, revealing a mess of reddish skin and glistening cum; finally, you look at your lover's face on the reflection — the lustful haze is yet to clear, and you know he still has plans for you.

"Think you deserve my cock now, baby?"

The dark undertone of his usually calm voice makes you swallow your anxious anticipation. Tilting your head to face him, you gingerly peck his cheek in an unspoken submission; and you stare into his eyes with a look you know makes him relent and tirelessly please you all night.

"Can I please have your cock, Suguru?"

Blinking your eyes in innocent seduction, you drag your fingers across his clothed chest, trailing down to unbutton his dress shirt. You stop your movements right above your boyfriend's throbbing member, unlatching the buttons of his pants, which makes Suguru shakily sigh in short-lived relief.

"Please, Suguru?"

With a low groan, Suguru maneuvers your frame to face him, sitting you down on his erect cock. He makes you shed off your remaining garments — his jacket — and gives you the illusion of control as he sits back and watches you remove his clothes with clammy fingers.

Your fleeting sense of boldness disperses into air once the two of you are entirely bare. Your sudden shyness makes Suguru chuckle at you mockingly, and he runs his rough palms from your hips to your breasts, toying with your pert nipples by pinching them with his thumb and index finger.

You instinctively rub your body against his in response, yearning to be wholly engulfed by his warmth. Seeing you so desperate in your lewd display, Suguru decides to give you just that.

"Then take all of it, princess."

Wrapping his hands around your arched waist, he hovers your sopping cunt right above his fully-erect cock, and as if you were his ragdoll to play with, he brings you down on his entire length without an ounce of warning.

An explosion of sensual moans, breaths, and the beat of skin-on-skin permeates your bedroom. You ground yourself by latching your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his loose man-bun. You occasionally tug his locks, and such an action makes him release a short, pitched moan that only heightens your excitement.

Suguru watches your connecting bodies with dilated pupils, his movements slowly becoming sloppier with your gradual approach to release.

"You're fucking sucking me in, baby," his breathy words of humiliation make you subconsciously squeeze his length even more. "You're so damn cock-hungry for me, huh? Only for me, right?"

You rapidly nod to appease your boyfriend, for you feel as if you have been stripped of all sense due to the overflowing pulse of pleasure coursing through your veins. Geto's cock stuffs you full with each thrust, and his ruddy head manages to hit your g-spot each time. Your warm walls twitch when his cock leaves you, only to cry out in a painful stretch when he enters you in the next beat.

You feel Suguru's fingers slip from your waist — either due to a layer of sweat or his approaching climax — and you press your lips together to muffle a particularly loud whine when he circles a finger on your bulging clit. The combined actions of your surprisingly impatient lover accelerate your build-up to release. Then, suddenly—

"Suguru!" Your shrill yelp of pleasure indicates the arrival of your climax, and it was romantically simultaneous with Suguru's own release. Your vision blurs and is momentarily overtaken by a bright light before you regain consciousness once again.

Panting and grunting faintly, he sits you down on his half-hardened length. To your surprised contentment, he brings you closer to him as he fully embraces your limp and sensitive frame, sensually kissing your forehead.

You still need to get used to Suguru's abrupt switches from a sweet and loving boyfriend to a domineering bastard that leaves you fucked senseless, and vice versa.

Regardless, you embrace him as well, and you hum in hazy satisfaction when he rubs gentle circles on your lower back. You know you'll spend the rest of the evening cock-warming him as he listens to your hushed stories. If you're lucky, you may get him to share some of his tales, as well.

In the end, your boyfriend Suguru truly is a two-faced bastard; however, your exciting days of eruptive pleasure always end in tender kisses and embraces.

"I love you," he whispers in your ear, and it feels like the universe silences itself to make way for his meaningful declaration.

Truly, you wouldn't want it any other way.

a/n: Here I am once again with Suguru brainrot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one — he's such a complex character, you know? Reblogs and notes would be appreciated! ☆

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