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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Word Count: 9,240 (oops) | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @solisarium for the artwork! 🥰 Please also support all the other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, and thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organising this event ❤

Warnings: arranged marriage, virginity loss, p in v sex, domination, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, canon typical sexism, aemond has a breeding kink (obvi), dark!aemond (ish)

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

To the realm. His title. But most of all, his family.

As a Prince of the Realm, he had many duties.

For most of his adult life he had trained relentlessly with the sword, striving to become better than his own teacher.

He had buried his nose in books, absorbing information from them, willing them to stick to the insides of his head to obtain intelligence unmatched by any other member of his family.

And, most of all, he had upheld his faithful relationship with his mother, whom he cherished dearly, and his sister equally.

He'd always felt close to the women in his life. But his mother had a special place in his heart. She had been through such hardships, such sacrifice.

And when she'd exploded that night in Driftmark, as inexcusable as she seemed the behaviour to be, he had felt such utter devotion towards her that she would be so angry on his behalf. At a time when he had felt so vulnerable, and felt that his own voice as well as hers had been ignored by the man in their lives.

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him sought pleasure in the fact his father was largely bed-bound these days. Even more so that his own father had lost an eye as a result of his worsening condition.

It felt like the Gods were looking down on him and validating him.

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

Unfortunately for him, that time was upon him, and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

As much as Alicent tried, and she really did try, she could not get her second son interested in courting the ladies at the Keep.

As soon as Aemond clapped an eye on the opposite sex, he would retreat in the opposite direction. Not even bothering to engage in conversation, surmising perhaps that he had little in common with them.

He'd never met a lady before who shared the same interests, why start actively seeking them out now?

Alicent's son was in his prime, rooted in adulthood, and she knew it was time, like it or not, that he was wed.

Aemond stood stock still, hands behind his back curled into fists, biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to show his mother the annoyance on his face. Her words were those of truth. He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.

What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned.

That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.

Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.

He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

And mercifully, Aemond sighed with relief that she was not.

Something struck deep within his chest. His mother spoke of her so wonderfully, as if she were a star plucked from the sky, and Aemond pondered if such attributes could be proven correct by simply meeting her once, as Alicent had. What woman, and of what standing, deserved such praise, after only meeting for a short time?

What would she look like? Her mannerisms, her stature, her smile? He found himself haunted by these thoughts without even knowing the woman’s name. Much less, her appearance.

He feared that she might share the same sentiments as the other ladies at court once they were due to meet, chaperoned by her ladies and tainted by their company. Perhaps they had their own opinions that they instilled on her also. She might be afraid of him, he thought. Maybe it is not so bad if she feared him, he allowed himself to think.

Aemond could not find it in his heart to expose himself so willingly to a stranger he was due to wed, and so when word reached the Keep that she had arrived and made her pleasantries, he thought to have mercy on the poor thing, stay clear and not dim her supposed ethereal presence with the darkness that followed at his back since the day he lost his eye.

There was some power in not allowing her to see him until their wedding day.

While a small part of him felt empathetic to the poor girl, that her betrothed chose not to greet her on arrival, another part of him was somewhat self-assured that he had made the right decision. It was the little power he felt he had.

When one thinks of a wedding, they might imagine the Sept beaming with joy, crammed with people all eager to feast their eyes on the new royal couple. But as Aemond stood before the Septon, with the extended feeling of nervousness at the fact she had yet to arrive, he could hear nothing.The Sept was dead silent. The people, the lords and ladies, as well as his family, were in attendance, watching with wide, curious eyes, too terrified to make a sound.

His hands were rigid behind his back, dressed in his finery, feeling the tightness of his clothes against his chest where his heart was hammering underneath.

For duty. For family.

He did not see her at first, as she was on his blind side, but once she’d well and truly stepped beside him, he spared a glance at her and felt his mouth go utterly dry.

Her dress, which he presumed were her house colours, was a light pastel, almost dream-like when combined with the translucent silky fabric graced atop it. He watched with curiosity as she let go of her father’s hand. Her gaze and almost undetectable smile was warm and inviting, as if the space around her was simply alight with her presence. Her father peeled the cloak from her shoulders, and it reminded him that he had the cloak with the Targaryen colours fisted in his grip.

Her hair was pinned up in a series of braids, all varying in size, and he was ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind was not that she looked beautiful with them, but that they must be uncomfortable. He was allowed to have his hair loose around his shoulders, whereas this woman, and he supposed others like her, were prodded and poked to look their best to the detriment of their comfort.

Aemond found it impossible to stare ahead and listen to the Septon, and he could’ve let a heavy breath loose when he was asked to cloak her. He swallowed over the lump in his throat that had formed and lifted his gaze to look down at her. Her bright, warm eyes looked up at him, revealing nothing about what she was really thinking, and her lips were full and looked soft, forcing him to think what they would feel like when they would sign their marriage with a kiss later.

He took a breath and placed the cloak on her shoulders, half thinking that such a heavy, large thing would swallow her whole, for her form was smaller than his, and therefore more delicate. Placing his hands on her, but not directly, still felt somewhat intimate, especially in a room of so many people watching. But something stirred deep within when he stepped back and observed that the colours complimented her, like she was meant to be his and belong to him.

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

Aemond watched every micro-movement. The fluttering of her eyelashes, the deep intakes of breath through her nose and her thumb brushing over her hand, in what he could only assume was nerves, though she was hiding it well on her face.

It was only here that he noticed she wore a dainty pearl necklace, not at all gaudy in size, but small and delicate, like he perceived her to be.

A feeling he didn’t know hummed in his blood. And it showed when both of them were asked to conclude the ceremony with a kiss.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

Aemond had to be the one to lean down to meet her in the middle, and he felt his blood thrum when their lips met, excited to find that her lips were as soft as he had imagined. He could not help the lewd thought that passed through his mind, and wondered if the rest of her was as supple and luxurious.

Curse the wedding feast, he wanted to find out right after the ceremony.

He was not overzealous with the kiss, not wanting to frighten her. But he was equally delighted when they parted to the applause of the lords and ladies, to find that her cheeks were faintly bloomed with warmth. His lips pulled into an indistinct smile at the idea that he was the first man that would have made her feel that way, and it pulled a possessive string in Aemond’s body towards her.

He took her hand in his and led her away from the Septon, through the line of people, and relished in the fact that she was now his. Aemond felt somewhat ashamed when his manhood began to harden within his breeches at the mere touch of her hand, and wondered what hers would look like wrapped around it. If her fingers could barely encircle it, and if she would be good and pliant, do as she’s told, and please him.

The wine during the feast surprisingly did nothing to quell the hardness between his legs. He yearned so desperately for her, sat right next to him, posture straight and proper like a good lady wife, with her hands clasped so delicately in her lap. She had yet to say a word to him and he thought she must have been raised very strict, not speaking to her betters without being spoken to first, and now that person was her husband.

It was difficult not to look unimpressed when the various lords and ladies all queued up to provide their congratulations to the intimate little table he and his wife were seated at during the feast.

He watched his mother beam with joy, though he and his wife had not spoken. Aegon had snickered, clearly thinking something inappropriate. And Otto had bowed, offering congratulations as if he had not been involved in the match behind the scenes along with Alicent the entire time. Did he think he was stupid?

Not even his father had managed to pull himself from his bed to offer his congratulations. But, Aemond thought then, he was glad he didn't have to see his face.

At times he could suppress his sheer boredom and impatience, he wanted them all to leave him alone so he could fuck his wife and see what pretty sounds she could make. With the absence of her voice, it only made him more impatient to find out.

Surely, the girl might not have been afraid of him? He thought.

Aemond almost regretted hoping she was afraid of him, but there was some dull excitement in thinking she was, even now, with how beautiful she looked. When he takes her maidenhead, as he was sure she was entirely pure, would her soft eyes look up at him in fear, or in pleasure, or both?

He found his gaze wandering over her for several quiet moments, watching her profile as she scanned the hall, observing everyone else enjoying themselves. Whilst he appeared somewhat indifferent to her to anyone else’s untrained eye, he was otherwise calm and collected. Her lips glistened against the warm amber glow of the candles adorning the table, and he could not hide his delight in seeing how she swallowed nervously. She must have felt his gaze on her, he thought. And as he watched her throat bob, he was drawn to her chest, where the pearls lay, and watched as her breathing pushed her breasts somewhat over the bust of her dress.

He imagined those pearls dancing while he fucked her, her breasts moving with the rhythm of driving his cock into her sweet wetness. Her lips parted with hurried breaths as she struggled to gain it while she appeased him with the sound of her soft moans.

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

The insides of him glimmered in excitement when she turned, her posture still perfect and straight. Her wide, innocent eyes met his with curiosity, and also fright that he had spoken to her in such a way. She almost seemed to flinch at the new title he’d referred to her as.

She gave an almost indistinguishable nod, her grip tightening on her hands, “Yes, husband, thank you.” She replied with a wavering voice.

She studied him for a moment, watching as he gave a lopsided smirk, adoring the way she seemed so nervous in his presence, and speaking to her husband. He drank slowly, continuing to watch her squirm under his gaze. Her breathing had hastened, evident by the way she struggled under the tight confines of her boned dress.

Her voice was smooth, like the sweetest honey, and he couldn’t wait to hear how it would translate, echoing throughout their marital chambers, with his flesh pressed against hers.

He never imagined merely envisioning power over something so delicate could be so exhilarating.

Aemond had to hide how elated he was when their leave was announced. He stood, and therefore she did as well, like a delayed little shadow.

She was an obedient little thing, he surmised, as she followed quietly, willfully ignorant to the leering glances and smirks of the lords and ladies who parted a path for them. Every single one of them was curious, as to how such a quiet, soft girl could tame someone so fearsome and chaotic as a dragon prince, who could not be caged in as mere mortal men could.

The chambers seemed too grand, too clunky, to house such a perfect thing as her, he thought. She stood stock still in the middle of his chambers, which he would now share with her, and watched amused as she looked around and took in her surroundings as if she were in some kind of danger. Her pupils flitted about the darkened room, lit only in a warm glow from various candlesticks placed most deliberately.

Her pale dress cast a glow against the grey of the room, as well as her aura, which seemed to lift all the tension from his body and direct it to the place he had needed her the most since he laid his eye on her.

The glass decanter clinked as he poured himself a cup of wine, his back to her.

Aemond turned and extended the decanter only slightly, asking wordlessly if she would like one as well.

But she simply wringed her hands and shook her head, her body wracked with nerves.

Aemond only chuckled, cup of wine in hand and looked upon her, standing so diligently, where he’d left her.

“Wine might dull your nerves, my lady wife.” He mused, watching the way she looked down in embarrassment at being able to see inside her head so clearly.

Every now and then, she would peek over at the well made bed, like it was an inevitability, and not a place where she would share her most intimate and passionate moments with her new husband.

There was a dark red blanket held taught atop the pale sheets.

A warning.

There were never such dark, stark colours atop her bed sheets at home, and she wondered silently why they would choose such a menacing colour to adorn a place where you may lay your head to rest.

A peaceful night’s sleep. A moment’s passion. The birth of a child.

She thought, beds are where we are born, where we sleep, where marriages are made, where women give birth, which is often their last. And where we die. Not necessarily in that order.

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

But to her, many dangerous things may take place in a bed. And she had heard the stories of a dragon’s temper. Of lords, not necessarily of royal standing, taking their wives on their wedding night, whether their wives were willing or not. And this, is what she feared.

“You need not be so afraid.”

He tore her from her thoughts. And she blushed and felt warm all over realising he had caught her staring at the bed, her body betraying how nervous she felt.

When he looked at her, he felt his manhood throb. He wondered if the blood would rush to her cunny the same way it rushed to her cheeks, and how her flesh would cover her delicious curves beneath the softness of her gown.

He felt excited when she opened her mouth, forcing the air into her lungs like it took all her effort.

“May I ask for your assistance with my gown, husband?” She asked sweetly, with her eyes downcast.

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

He poked his cheek with his tongue in amusement, pushing himself off what he was leaning on and made towards her, watching the way she shrunk the closer he got. She turned slowly, showing him her back, where the laces of her dress were tied so tightly, he was surprised she had not asked him sooner.

While he worked on them, loosening the fabric around her middle, his breath hitched when he saw the shift underneath. She moved her hands to her hair, pulling several pins from it where the braids had been twisted together. She visibly shivered under his touch when the laces were undone and he pushed the stiff fabric apart across her back.

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she used the sharpened tip of the pins to undo the braids into delicate wavy strands, all while unaware how her new husband marvelled at her out of sight.

She walked away from him for a moment to the vanity, never meeting the looking glass with her eyes, but simply placing the pins in a trinket bowl. With the gown loosened around her shoulders, the fabric lifted when she reached up to unclasp the necklace.

“Leave that on.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, questioning. Her cheeks alight with what he was suggesting.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So instead, she cleared her throat quietly, and pulled the heavy dress from her shoulders, folding it lengthways and draping it over an armchair. Her fingers clasped and unclasped, anxious. Aemond merely watched, his doublet feeling tight and hot against his chest. He could make out the silhouette of her form beneath the thin cotton, the candlelight illuminating her, as if her body was the soft and gentle morning sun, peeking over the horizon to set the day alight.

He heard her shuddered breath and allowed himself to think about what it would feel like against his neck while he rutted into her. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer to her, to sink deeper into her hot insides.

“I do hope that…I please you…with my appearance.” She murmured, turning with her body to face him from a distance. She sounded embarrassed, and shy.

Aemond furrowed his brows.

“Why do you say such a thing?” He asked, colder than he had meant to sound. And it’s clear that the tone of it made her shudder more, which he didn’t intend.

“I only meant that…I hope I am pleasing to the eye…and that I shall be obedient and supportive, as a good wife should be.”

He fought the urge to smile, not wanting to embarrass her further. His silence towards her had clearly given her the wrong impression. That he didn’t approve of her, and perhaps she thought that she wasn’t suitable for him because of his reaction.

“Come here.”

She did as he asked, albeit slowly, until she stood right in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Does my appearance scare you, he thought with curiosity, and panic.

Does my ailment make you uneasy, as it does the other ladies?

She shook her head softly, “No.” She answered quietly, “It’s just… my Septa said…that the night of consummation would be…” she trailed off, speaking too quietly for him to hear.

“It is alright. Speak again, without fear.”

She swallowed as she looked at him, having to crane her neck.

“She said…the night of consummation would be painful…and that it must be endured. As wives are to be submissive and obedient to their husbands.”

She spoke as if she were speaking from a line in a book. And Aemond thought she must have had this idea stamped into her brain from a very young age. It both concerned and irritated him to think that a young child, forming into a young woman, would be forced into being so terrified of such intimacy by a caregiver who ultimately knew little about marriage.

“There will be some pain.” He replied simply, watching the way she flinched at his words, “But I do not wish for you to endure it simply because you have been told to.”

His fingers came to the tresses of hair that hung on her shoulders, threading his fingers through them and revelling in their softness. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted, absorbing his words, and he could see behind them that he was challenging everything she had ever been told.

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

She inhaled slowly, gathering her nerves, and nodded simply.

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

Though he spoke softer, there was still a coldness to the way he gave his demands. But nonetheless, she did as he said, and stared up to the canopy of the bed, feeling her heart going so fast she was sure it would burst from her chest.

All she heard was the rustling of leather, the unlooping of his belt, and the clinking of his silver clasps.

She felt the mattress dip at the end of the bed and saw her new husband, without his doublet, but with his breeches only untied halfway, so she could not see a thing. But even so, the sight of a man naked on his torso had her heart still in her chest, and warmth crawl up to her cheeks. Aemond chuckled slightly, not wishing to embarrass her.

“Have you seen a man bare before, little one?” He asked, laying down beside her. She tried with the utmost effort to not stare at him, fearing that in some way she would anger him. His chest was well-muscled and pale, shimmering in the low light of the chambers and littered with many tiny scars that had silvered with time. His hair ran like milk over his shoulders, so silky it seemed to stick to his smooth skin.

She shook her head, and mouthed ‘no’. His manhood throbbed in his breeches at the thought that she had not even seen a man beneath his clothes before, and that he would be the first.

“It is alright, there is no need to be embarrassed.” He gave her a soft smile, trying his best to appear comforting.

But it could not be ignored that they were strangers, and it was his fault that he had not gone to see her before marriage and get to know her better. And on top of that, she was afraid, not of him, but that he might hurt her and that it would define her expectations for the rest of the marriage.

She flinched noticeably in shock, not out of fear, but at not having been touched so intimately, when his palm ran softly up her leg, taking her shift with it.

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

She was so jumpy and nervous, Aemond wondered for a brief, funny moment, if she had even spoken to a man before today.

So he asked a question which he thought was almost silly to ask.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

His question was answered immediately when she flushed and her face went all warm, and suddenly she was unable to meet his gaze. She shook her head softly. And instead of feeling bad for her, a devilish grin split across his face, all the blood going south.

She was so pious, and so devoted to the Seven, that she had saved any part of her inner desires for her husband to be.

He would be the first to give her pleasure of any kind.

To touch her intimately.

To make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

“It is alright. I shall show you.” He added softly, his voice like the purr of a cat.

She dared to look back at him as his hand trailed higher, dipping beneath the hem of her shift to touch her smooth skin beneath, “How will it feel?...”

“It may feel strange at first,” He answered honestly, “But after that, it should be pleasurable.”

She seemed to accept his answer, but her legs were pressed together almost instinctively, like her body was telling her it needed to appear smaller. His sharp nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her pleasant, female scent. His breath against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of air landing against her neck, where he began to place one, and then two open-mouthed kisses.

His eye wandered over her from this angle. Looking down her body, he could see the shadow of what lay beneath her shift in between her breasts as they moved with her breathing, which was slow and calculated. He could see how her hands held the bedsheets below her in her palm, not tightly, but prepared to pull on them if she needed.

She shivered with a shuddered breath when he kissed her, trailing his lips lower to her collarbone, past her string of delicate pearls, and he could see that beneath the cotton, her nipples had reacted to the chill of the room, but he liked to imagine that it was because of the way he was touching her so lovingly.

His hand completely slipped past where her hip met her leg, not touching her womanhood just yet, but close enough to feel its warmth. He felt the gooseflesh on her tummy as he trailed upwards, the shift bunched against his arm when his palm slid over her breast. She gasped softly as he squeezed tenderly, testing the weight of it in his palm and kneading it, and when he looked up to her briefly, she had closed her eyes.

He would tell her to open them later, after he did what he planned.

Her hips moved towards the mattress when his deft fingers dipped between her legs, the tips parting her folds to her entrance first, where Aemond began to feel the slick, as little as there was, gathered around it.

She was beginning to feel aroused even if she didn't know it.

She whimpered, pressing her lips together when she felt his fingers in such a strange, forbidden place. Her eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

"Shh…" He cooed, the air brushing against her cheek, "Relax, dear wife."

She swallowed thick, and relaxed her thighs so that they weren't pushed together as much. The title he'd given her making her head feel as if it were full of air and nothing else.

A part of her felt bad. For she was supposed to be an obedient, pliant little wife, and he was taking care of her so diligently and she was still afraid.

"I apologise-"

"Do not apologise." He replied quickly, and her eyes opened, glistening with a new expression of understanding, "Only feel."

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

He drew his fingers from her entrance to her pearl, drawing little soft circles using her arousal for ease. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes glued to him, a near-indistinguishable gasp falling from her lips. She began to feel a sort of ache, deep in her stomach that felt strange. And her hips began to move in micro-movements.

"This is where you feel the most pleasure." He whispered, his fingers moving sometimes directly and then indirectly over her pearl. At others, the anticipation of them being close to it had her hips searching for the touch.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She struggled to think of a word, having never felt this dull and yet pleasurable rush to her core.

"Strange…pleasantly so."

He continued to move slowly, not making a direct effort to make her peak like this, just allowing her to feel what the touch of a man, the touch of her husband, could feel like.

"I will prepare you like this, so that there will be as little pain as possible."

Maintaining eye contact while he said things like that, while he did things to her like this, felt so intimate and so painfully domestic. As if nobody had bothered to care for her so much in her life. Her eyes curiously flitted between his seeing one and his eyepatch, not in fear, but wondering what he might be hiding beneath it.

It would not be removed this night. Or perhaps many to come.

Aemond's fingers moved over her womanhood with ease, more slick began to pool there and lubricate her puffy folds, swollen with arousal. She was wet, but he thought not prepared enough for his cock just yet.

He shifted his body down, his cheek grazing over her still clothed form, as if he was teasing himself. He could easily have asked her to be naked for him. But there was still trust to be gained.

Her eyes were questioning where he might be going. And she truly had no idea.

Using his knee, he settled between her legs, seeing the gooseflesh still there. His hands rucked up her shift, just pausing at the point where it would reveal her womanhood, all slick and ready for him. Her cheeks bloomed as she looked down at him, but didn't have the courage to question.

"Keep your eyes on me." He whispered lowly, his fingers pushing the fabric up so that he could see her cunt, so close to his face. And he was hit right then with the invigorating scent of her, like the sweetest perfume. He felt ashamed that even the scent of her aroused little cunny made his cock weep with arousal.

She looked more embarrassed than anything to have her new husband's face so close to her intimate area she had been taught to keep hidden. And it was hard for her to keep her legs apart. But she couldn't close them for fear of clamping on his head, and his hands were tenderly keeping them spread, his fingers only slightly indented in her supple flesh.

He looked down upon her, his thumb grazing her pearl again and watching with delight as her hips moved again, accompanied with a breath. It was simply too tempting, the idea of tasting her and the sweet nectar that leaked from within.

Holding her thighs, he leaned forward and flattened his tongue against her womanhood, and something primal was awoken inside when he finally tasted his new, little wife. He moved around her folds, and whenever he had to take a breath he placed an open-mouth kiss to it. He spared a glance up at her, and he hadn’t even heard her hurried breathing or tiny whispers of moans, so engrossed in tasting her for the first time.

Her cheeks were alight, her eyes torn between settling on his gaze and what he was doing to her. He had already told her to keep her eyes on him, and Aemond felt pleased that despite how embarrassed she was, she was obeying him.

Aemond redoubled his efforts, using his tongue to part her folds and nuzzling deeper against her, his nose rubbing gently against her pearl and using his wet muscle to dip against her entrance. It’s here that she gave some semblance of a proper moan, slipping shakily out of her throat, her hands tightening on the bed sheets.

He all but moaned against her cunt, delving into the deepest parts of her and dragging his tongue against the top of her velvety walls, trying to find out why she was the way she was. What made her feel the best. How he could make more of those pretty sounds tumble past her lips. He thought he could have spent all his life between her thighs, lapping at her arousal, and he would die a happy man.

In his grip, her thighs began to shake, and her brows furrowed like she didn’t understand what this feeling coursing through her veins was, this fire ablaze in her blood. Pride flooded his head, and he dragged his tongue from the inside of her to her pearl, where he drew circles over it. She jolted in his hold, as if he’d scared her, but he knew that it was because of the overwhelming feeling that was beginning to crest over her, and the uncertainty of it.

With his attention and efforts on her bud alone and she was suitably wet, he looked up at her when he touched her entrance with the pad of his finger. He heard her gasp when he slowly sank one digit inside her, he himself struggling to keep his composure once he realised just how tight she was around his finger alone. And he could barely think straight thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

He could forgive for the time being that her eyes were closed and brows furrowed, for the new sensation must have been strange for her. Something akin to a strangled whine rumbled from her chest when he was sank all the way inside, curling upwards. And when he brushed against that spot at the top of her walls, gently caressing the slick ridges, her back arched slightly off the mattress, and he smiled against her womanhood.

It appears his little wife was becoming emboldened in her movements by what he was doing to her.

As he continued to please his wife in two separate ways, almost instinctively, her hand came to his bare shoulder. To pull him close? To push him away? She wasn’t entirely sure herself.

He could tell she was on the precipice of something she was unable to comprehend, and was embarrassed to show herself in such an open way.

“What is it, sweet wife?” he asked, drawing his lips from her, now covered entirely in her arousal when he licked at it.

Through her loud pants, she regained her breath as he continued to tease that deep spot inside of her, “What is…” She breathed, her grip closing around his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh, not meaning to, which made him smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He cooed, pulling out slightly to slide a second finger inside, using the girth of his fingers to stretch her cunt around him, “I am just making sure you are ready for me.”

He began to pump his fingers inside her like he would fuck her, curling them up to focus his attention and pressure against the sweet spot at the end of her. She was so tight around him, already trying to suck him further inside and clenching hard. He felt his skin stretch around her grip on his shoulder, like she didn’t realise how hard she was holding him.

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

There was no shame now in how hard it made him, and he felt as if he would spill right in his breeches and not inside her if she was going to say things like that.

A breathy whine made its way from her mouth, her eyes tightly shut as her face twisted in pleasure, feeling all the pressure leak into her limbs in bliss while Aemond kept pleasuring her, loving how her body was uncontrollably trembling with the force of her peak. He could feel the rush of slick coat his fingers and hand, so he slowed down the pace of his movements, allowing his sweet wife to savour the feeling she’d experienced here for the first time.

“That was your peak, little one.”

Her eyes opened to focus on him, feeling her body erupt in shivers as he pulled his digits from her and smeared her wetness over her thighs, thinking that as erotic and lewd the action was, that is excited her at the place where her husband had just been caressing with his fingers and tongue.

Her pupils were dilated only a bit larger than before, and Aemond felt pride in being the first to make her feel such things, awakening a part of her that had remained dormant for a long time. And while she had been emboldened by what he’d done to please her, her cheeks still bloomed with a faint embarrassment that he found endearing.

His hands traced her sides, taking her shift with it, and her breath hitched at the idea she would be entirely bare before her new husband, who had just given her the first experience of female pleasure. But alongside the trepidation, there was excitement.

Once he pulled her shift over her head and raked his gaze over every inch of her body.

It was a fucking crime that she’d been hiding herself under that gown all evening, he thought.

He thought she was perfection, with her soft and supple curves, and he hadn’t even realised his calloused hands had been kneading her breast until she let out a breathy sound. But she didn’t protest. She just appeared somewhat uncomfortable, as this was the first time she had shown herself so openly to the opposite sex.

“You are beautiful.”

She seemed to calm at least when he said that, relieved her husband found her attractive.

He saw her eyes flit from his one seeing eye to the eyepatch covered one, curious. But she simply swallowed thickly and didn’t say or ask anything. And he too was relieved that she hadn’t asked him to remove it.

He was not sure if he would be ready for that, for some time.

She still wore the little pearls around her neck, and now with her entirely naked with the exception of that, it felt erotic and arousing.

They were the same.

She wore the necklace, he wore the eyepatch, keeping a tiny piece of themself while they joined in matrimonial bliss.

He unlaced the rest of his breeches, watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed in anticipation of what was going to happen and the irreversible fact that she would never be the same afterwards.

“Remember what I said?” he asked, pulling his breeches over his hips. His achingly hard cock sprang free, standing proud and aroused against his stomach.

She took a moment to reply, trying not to stare too much at his member as he stroked himself slowly, the ruddy tip, weeping with arousal, poked out of his fist with every languid movement. She’d never seen one before. But all she knew was that she wondered how on earth it would fit inside her, he looked so thick and long, slightly curved to one side. Was there empty space inside of her she didn’t know about where he would place himself?

Her eyes met his, all glazed over, and she nodded.

“If there is pain, I must tell you.” She repeated what he’d said earlier. Her skin bloomed, for that moment was here right before them.

She tried to relax her body, numb from the force of her very first peak, as the mattress dipped either side of her where he’d leaned on his forearms, his knee brushing the inside of her legs as he nudged them apart so he could place himself there.

“Yes, you must.” He added tenderly, “It is not my intention to hurt you.”

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

She confirmed with delight that she was. And she nodded, not knowing what to say in response to his statement, but Aemond could see the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

He saw her glance at his manhood with something akin to a mix of fear and curiosity, and she took a sharp breath in as Aemond leaned forward, not pressing his weight on her, and placed several open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, teasing her with his teeth, while his cock kissed her puffy folds.

She felt his breath at her skin, her grip loosening on the sheets as he made her feel a little more relaxed.

When he leant forward, parting her folds easily with the aid of her slick, the first thought she had was that it felt strange, but nothing else in particular. It was only when his cockhead had disappeard inside her and he speared her upon his length that she began to tense up, her stomach tightening somewhat unpleasantly. Her hand came automatically to his chest, to try and push him away and make him stop.

He raised his head from her neck, his eye hooded down in concern. He felt her soft, almost-hummingbird-like touch on his chest and felt something fluttering inside of him at the tenderness of it. She was in some pain, not dramatically so, and yet her touch was so gentle.

Nothing was said, and only the utmost patience was offered. And it was difficult to do so for Aemond, with the way her core was holding him so tightly, to stay still and not move an inch. But for the sake of making her feel safe, he did it.

After a moment, she made an effort to relax her muscles for him. Her hand trailed over his muscled chest, as if taking this small window of opportunity to do so. Her fingers ran over the scars he’d gained on his lithe form, wanting to commit every ridge, every little piece of him to her memory as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

Her eyes shifted to him once he sheathed himself inside her all the way, bottoming out with a low groan. He felt her walls fluttering around him, stretching her to accommodate this size, having not felt anything like this before. Her lips parted to let a soft pained sound past her lips, but that was all, and she felt the worst was behind her.

It felt only slightly uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for this marriage. To please him.

It was intimate, looking right at her while he was deep inside her, and she gave the faintest of nods, telling him without words that she was alright. She thought she'd never felt more full in her life, nor more connected to someone as she was right at this moment.

It hurt at first, yes, but he had prepared her, waited for her and cherished her like she was precious. And the pain, the sting of losing her maidenhead, was a small price to pay for how full her heart felt, by giving a piece of her to him.

Closing his eye, as if to concentrate, Aemond moved almost entirely out of her to push back in as she gasped below him, the same feeling the second time had a spark licking at her insides that didn’t stop as he began his slow and careful pace. He wanted to tear his gaze off her, desperately, but couldn’t.

It was just as he imagined. With every soft thrust inside her, the pearls at her neck danced, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering. It wasn’t as animalistically lustful as he envisioned. Before he imagined an innocent thing like her, bending to his will, corrupting her in any way he saw fit.

But now more than anything as he listened to the gentle moans come out of her, he wanted to protect her, to nurture and watch her flourish. The pearls clicked against each other at her neck, her breasts moved, nipples pebbled with arousal, and she’d raised her legs only slightly to wrap around his waist, blinking slowly up at him.

The whore Aegon had gotten him to fuck on his thirteenth nameday was overzealous, large-breasted and older, perhaps more experienced. She had bounced on top of him, her loud moans bouncing off every surface in the room, her hands planted on his chest as she moved her hips up and down on him with loud slaps. He remembered feeling horrified that this is what intimacy was. That this is what men would desire so relentlessly.

It didn’t feel good. And he remembered feeling sick.

But here, with her, looking so lovingly up at him. No hysterical moaning, no pathetic whines to boost his male ego. Just unapologetically everything she was feeling, she was giving to him.

It felt like a gift. To experience real intimacy. And with the person he was due to spend the remainder of his days with.

As if realising he was daydreaming, his hips still moving against her with wet slaps of skin, her hand cupped his face, on the unmarred side, and her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. She touched him so softly he could have wept.

She had seen some kind of thoughtfulness on his face, and in the throes of consummation, was supporting him.

“Aemond.”

When she said his name with such sincerity and care, he blinked slowly and reached his hand up to hers, encircling his fingers around her small wrist, and turned his face into her palm, to kiss the inside tenderly. One kiss to her palm, and one to her wrist. And it felt more intimate than kissing on the lips, which he only now realised with shame, that he’d not done for her yet.

“I am alright.”

He looked at her when she said that. It was as if she could see all of his inner thoughts, and had been able to all evening.

She saw that he had been holding back.

He had been afraid of frightening her, and yet she was allowing him what he wanted.

Her breath caught in her chest with a kind of excitement as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and forced it down to the bed beside her head, his other hand joining her other to keep her pinned tightly under him to the mattress. Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, watching his expression change to something more possessive.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he asked and raised her legs around his waist, causing his length to brush that same spot inside her that he’d pleasured just moments before. And with an iron grip on her wrists and easier access to her, he dipped his head into her neck, her scent swirling around him and fucked her as he had wanted to the entire evening.

Skin slapped against one another with the moisture of her slick on his pelvis, his stones hitting against her repeatedly with every rough thrust into her wet cunt.

"Does my innocent little wife like to be properly fucked, hm?" He grunts, watching how she blushes and turns her head away out of embarrassment.

"I think you will continue to surprise me, little pearl."

She felt her insides clench at the name he gave her.

Little pearl.

Aemond smirked, increasing the intensity of his driving into her, constantly spearing her open onto his cock, and watching at the way he disappeared into her.

"I can feel you tightening around my cock. Did you like that? Little pearl?"

Her breath was sucked from her with each devastating thrust, and that same pressure was beginning to build in her belly, from when he'd pleasured her before.

"Answer me.”

"Yes - yes, husband - " She replied, breathlessly and gulping for air, throwing her head back against the bed sheets.

He smirked, leaning back and watching how his cock was being covered in her slick everytime he pulled out of her.

He pulled her hips onto his lap, and the angle had his cockhead bullying her tender and sensitive place deep inside of her. Her eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, feeling utterly at his mercy.

Feeling proud of the reactions he was getting, his hand slipped from her hip to her bud. Her pearl. A grin splitting across his face at the lewd thoughts he was having. He circled her sensitive bud tenderly, applying just enough pressure that she clenched around him again.

If she wasn't careful, he would cum right there and then.

"Does that feel good, little one?" He teased her in a low tone, not ceasing his endless pace, pushing himself as far inside her as he could.

"Do you like it when I touch you here?"

She couldn't deny she liked it. The way her back arched, being pleasures in two ways. It was nearly overwhelming. And it took her voice from her.

"Perhaps we should name you Pearl of the Realm." He smirked, increasing both his pace and pressure, "Prim, proper…a good little obedient wife to her lord and husband."

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

"But in here, with me, it is this pearl I shall be paying special attention to, dear wife."

His words made her tighten around him, coupled with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. She felt her entire body get hot, the pressure in her belly set to explode at any moment.

His delicate and careful ministrations to her bundle of nerves was almost too much, and her hips began to move forward towards his in rhythm with his cock stretching her open, meeting him halfway.

She didn't imagine such lewd words would have an effect on her.

"Husband - "

"I think I will keep you like this. All night if I have to. Paying special attention to this precious pearl you have been neglecting for so long." He mused, his words were strained, as if set to explode himself.

"I will give you my seed. Over and over. Until I am done with you." He breathed through heavy pants, his eye slipping shut, "I will watch you swell with my child. Would you like that?"

She could only whimper in response, fisting the bed sheets as she had nothing else to hold onto, her mouth dropping open as her climax began to crest.

"I would like that. To see these perfect tits all round and full."

The idea of bearing his children was only a fantasy that appeared right at that moment.

"Gods - you are so tight - such a perfect little cunt - fuck - "

She fell apart around him, her entire body filled with such eternal feeling bliss that she felt as if she were floating, her husband's deft fingers still pleasuring her bud.

Her limbs felt numb, her blood like fire under her skin and her lips dropped apart so that a shattered moan could escape her, the only proof that her peak was decimating every nerve in her body with blinding, white hot pleasure.

She tightened impossibly around him, and the pistoning of his cock into her sex was only stilled when he slammed inside her one last time. His length throbbed within her, his spend warming her core at the end and filling her, completing this sacred, intimate ceremony.

They both gulped down air desperately and when Aemond had caught a moment to himself, he spared a look down at his sweet wife, her delicate skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat, eyes shut, breasts shifting erratically with her breathing.

She must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned her head to look up at him. In her once innocent and naive gaze he once saw fear and trepidation. And now her pupils were blown wide and glimmered with lust and a kind of pride that she'd pleased him, and they'd done this together.

Aemond still had a grip on her hips, noticing the red marks where his fingers had been. Her body was littered with them, where he'd been too tempted to nibble at her, to make sure she bore the marks of his passion for her.

He looked down where they were joined, pulling out of her and watching with a lustful curiosity at his spend that leaked from her entrance. It was instinctual, the way two fingers scooped up what had come out, and he gently plunged it back into her as far as he would go.

Overstimulated and tired, she winced, bucking her hips slightly.

Aemond only smiled down at her.

"I can hardly wait to make you a mother, little one."

She laughed a little, exhausted, "You speak of children. We have only lay together once."

Aemond took her reply and smirked, pulling her thighs close to him again.

"In that case - might we try again? I dare say I have already forgotten the first time."

His little pearl smiled tenderly up at him. A safe smile. One of utter adoration. It was like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. She had been so good to him in the short time he'd known her, and cared enough to let him see her as well.

He felt fulfilled in a way he never had before. Something exciting ran through his blood, like how he felt whenever he trained. As if a new challenge were upon him.

Challenging the notion that had been placed upon him his entire life, that marriage was about ownership. As a wife should belong entirely to her husband.

And while he felt that sheer possessiveness before he really knew her. Knew her properly.

Now, he questioned if marriage was more about respect than anything else.

The fabric covering his eye now felt so heavy. And one day, he thought, he hoped to be able to show himself so openly to her, as she had done for him.

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

And he would pay his little pearl all the attention she so deserved.

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

4K notes · View notes

gelus-ugs · 11 months

Note

Hi !! I don’t know if you’re taking requests rn, sorry in advance if you aren’t ^_^

Could you do hcs of Hashiras if you try to flirt with them, but you’re an awkward, shy type of person? (+they like you back)

When you try to flirt with the Hashira

———————————————————————

Shy/Awkward reader

Prompt: You had been crushing on ___ the moment you became a Hashira, the feeling only growing deeper the more you got to know them. A friend you had met through the Demon Slayer Corps caught onto this and encouraged you to say something, giving you countless ideas. You eventually gave in, deciding to go with a pickup line they recommended. Why? Hell if you knew, but it was worth a try..right?

———————————————————————

Gyomei Himejima

“You must be a hell of a thief, because you managed to steal my heart the moment I met you”

Gyomei blinked in utter confusion

Were you flirting with him?

Gyomei turned to you - and although he couldn’t see, he could practically feel the embarrassment and regret coming from you

Gyomei smiled, taking your hand and kissing the back of it

“Well, I have no intentions of giving it back”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“I was wondering if you’re an artist because you’re so good at drawing me in”

Sanemi froze, turning to face you in disbelief

There’s no way someone like you was openly flirting

You immediately apologized, quickly turning on your heel and leaving

You got two steps in before Sanemi grabbed your wrist, turning you around and pulling you back

The two of you were suddenly close, Sanemi’s breath fanning over your neck

“Where are you going? I haven’t signed my artwork yet”

Obanai Iguro

“Do you have a map? I just got lost in your eyes”

Obanai turned to face you with wide eyes

Due to their difference in color, Obanai’s eyes were an insecurity of his

His face began to turn red as he hid behind his hand

“Thank you…your eyes are beautiful, too”

Mitsuri Kanroji

“When I look in your eyes, I see a very kind soul”

Mitsuri squealed

She knew that it was out of your nature to flirt, and she saw how you were a tad bit uncomfortable, so she found you downright adorable

Mitsuri immediately pulled you into a hug, continuously squealing about how cute you were

You won over her heart

Kyōjurō Rengoku

“No wonder the sky is gray, all the color is in your eyes”

Rengoku stared at you with wide eyes, surprised that you were openly flirting

Being his usual self - Rengoku began to laugh

You took it the wrong way and immediately began to regret what you said, wishing that the ground would swallow you whole

Rengoku noticed your shift in mood and paused his laughter, placing his hand on your shoulder

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t making fun of you, I was laughing because you were so adorable”

Rengoku gently kissed your cheek, pulling away and smiling at you,

“I’m afraid that you’re the one with the color in your eyes”

Muichiro Tokito

“There must be something wrong with my eyes - I can’t seem to take them off of you”

Muichiro blankly stared at you, trying to process what you had said

You began to fidget with your fingers, feeling as if Muichiro didn’t like what you said

After a moment of silence, Muichiro grabbed your hand and smiled,

“Who says you have to take them off of me?”

Shinobu Kocho

“Do you happen to have a Band-Aid? I scraped my knees falling for you”

Shinobu automatically began to reach for a band-aid before she paused, realizing that you were flirting with her

She turned to face you, gently smiling

“Well then, looks like we’re going to have to kiss those scrapes better, huh?”

Tengen Uzui

“So, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?”

Tengen immediately turned to face you, his jaw agape

“Are you flirting with me?!”

Intimidated by his loudness, you slowly nodded as you avoided eye contact

Tengen placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up,

“I like it, how flashy. And, to answer your question…”

Tengen leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear,

“It looks like I’m doing you for a living”

Giyu Tomioka

“Your eyes are like the ocean; I could swim in them all day”

Giyu blinked in confusion as he stared at you for a few minutes

“Were you…flirting with me?”

You began to feel embarrassed as you shyly nodded

“Well, if it were you…”

Giyu paused, kissing your forehead,

“I’d let you swim in my eyes forever”

5K notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 2 months

Text

do you believe in us?

description. from a young age, you and PAUL ATREIDES believe you belonged to the other, and foolishly thought you could one day marry. not even an unlikely marriage between your parents will diminish those beliefs.

includes. STEPCEST, SMUT MDNI 18+, fem!reader, oral (f receiving), childhood best friends to stepsiblings, instigator paul, appearances by lady jessica, duke leto, and duncan idaho, sparring, sneaking around

wc: 5.3k+

a/n: title from us by movement. artwork credit to revol404 on instagram. ao3 link

When you were younger, you saw Castle Caladan for what it wasn’t.

In nearly all of your memories, Castle Caladan was warm and bright. The sun shone into the large windows, illuminating the gray hallways and providing a comforting warmth that seduced your young mind into seeing Castle Caladan as one of the residences from the fairytales your mother would tell you. In these memories you were always running and smiling, often hand-in-hand with your best friend. Your first love.

Paul Atreides.

Castle Caladan was the home of the person you cared about most. Therefore, visits were vacations. They were scarce, becoming more rare the older you got, but that only made you treasure them more.

You and Paul would spend the entire day together, even going as far as to sneak out of your allocated bedrooms and tiptoe into the chambers of the other. In the morning, the maids would find two little bodies sharing a bed, hands reaching out to touch the other in the empty space between you both.

And as you grew, you traded running around the halls for playing each other in chess. Playing throughout the fields was traded for walking along the shoreline.

Sneaking into each other's bedroom only changed by the nature of intentions. You still ached to spend more time together, but the innocence of it was lost. In the solitude of the night, you would make up for the time lost during the day to Paul’s training as the heir, and your duties with your mother and Lady Jessica.

When your mother broke the news, she misled you.

“You will be permanently living with the Atreides family,” came her carefully chosen words. If she had not trained you, maybe it would’ve taken you longer to catch the implications. Maybe you would not have understood what circumstances had brought this upon your family until you were packing, or even until you were already en route to Caladan.

Instead, it’s then and there that you realize how your chances have been lowered to none.

Your mother had said your name, her tone as dry and disappointed as her eyes. “You will never be able to marry him. It is as I said.”

And that was that.

Your best friend becomes your step brother in the blink of an eye. Together, you made up the new and noble siblings of House Atreides.

Your mother and Paul's father were married, and you and Paul now shared a last name. It was an immovable fact, no matter how often you and Paul attempted to convince each other of the opposite in moments of intense desperation.

No matter how many times you tried to convince the other that marriage is a procedure that could be reversed should the need ever arise, you both knew that a reversal would be unlikely.

Duke Leto married your mother despite his clear love for Lady Jessica for security. If he could manage to commit such an act onto the one he loves, then there would be no undoing this.

Now, you see Castle Caladan for what it is.

As beautiful as it is dreary. As cold as it is large. As encompassing as it is comforting.

You sit at the breakfast table next to Paul and across from your mother. Lady Jessica sits at the end of the table, and Duke Leto, your stepfather, is absent.

There’s no small talk, just the silent scraping of utensils against expensive china and the occasional audible gulp of fluid down throats.

Every so often, you throw a curious glance Paul’s way, and the look he throws at you is in similar fashion. You both feel the stiffness in the air.

Paul raises his eyebrows. He nudges them towards your mother and then his mother, and does the same with his eyes for emphasis.

You slightly widen your eyes pointedly, your way of saying I know without having to say it. His lips pull up into a small smile and then you both turn back to face your plates.

The tense silence continues for a while. Your mother addresses Lady Jessica. Lady Jessica addresses Paul. Your mother addresses you and Paul.

And then your plates are cleaned and Paul is standing.

“May we be excused?”

It’s surprisingly a clear day outside, and you did not have to speak to Paul to know that he intended for both of you to enjoy the agreeable weather before Caladan was inevitably submerged in water once more later in the night.

“You may be excused,” Lady Jessica confirms.

You’re in the midst of rising from your seat and pushing the chair out from under you whenever you catch Lady Jessica’s eye. She does not say anything to you, but she does not need to.

Just the cold gaze of her blue eyes alone are enough to make you sink back into your seat. From behind you, Paul calls your name. If you were not locked in a trance, you would have looked at him, you would have found the soothing blue-green of his eyes instead of the petrifying chill of his mothers.

“I’ll see you later, Paul,” you tell him on your own volition, but you think that is what Lady Jessica wanted you to say anyway.

She waits until the dining room is cleared of anyone other than you two before she begins to communicate.

“You and my son…” Her words taper off and you are too busy focusing on the way her lips have only moved to take in another bite of her breakfast, and not to speak to you.

While you understand the ways of the Bene Gesserit, it never fails to amaze you.

“Ma’am?” You are playing dumb and both of you are aware.

Still, Lady Jessica elaborates, “You both have had feelings for the other since you were young.”

There is no room for denial so there is no reason for you to attempt it. You nod twice, casting your eyes down to your lap where your hands lay restlessly. You begin to pick at your nails as Lady Jessica continues.

“And are those feelings still present?”

Your answer comes entirely too quick.

“No!” Your voice echoes around the room and you cringe.

Lady Jessica lifts an eyebrow. She senses your dishonesty.

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. “Yes, ma’am. But we have not acted on them.”

When she communicates this time, it is with her voice.

“Good. You are a smart girl and your mother has raised you well. I’m sure you will make both of us proud.” She finishes off her food and sits straighter, wiping her mouth free of nonexistent residue with a white cloth. “Now I’m sure you have things to be getting to, right, dear?”

You have never been happier to leave somewhere. You say your goodbyes as graciously as possible and leave the dining room.

You’re in the training room exhausting yourself with slightly shaky jabs at the practice dummy whenever the door opens. There is a split second where you’re prepared to turn around and throw the next jab at the intruder, but then he speaks.

“If I were Gurney I would chastise you for fighting with your back to the door.”

You speak around your heavy breaths.

“Eyes in the back of my head, remember?”

Your reference is one that goes back to you and Paul’s young teenage years. A phrase you confidently proclaimed once you and Paul both had begun extensive training, learning combat that could protect yourselves and your—then separate—family names should the need ever arise. (To this day, Paul is more formidable in combat than you are, but back then you could confidently hold your own.)

Gurney had taken over training then, and he had allowed you and Paul to train together, solely because you were visiting during one of Paul’s less intense training sessions.

(You believed that Gurney always had a soft spot for you and the Atreides heir. Not nearly as obvious as the one held by Duncan Idaho, but its existence is present within the weathered man.)

When Gurney had chastised you for fighting with your back to the door, you quickly quipped with a claim that you had eyes in the back of your head. When Gurney tossed a rock at your back, not big enough to provide more than a bruise against your skin, you were able to block it without turning around.

Gurney was impressed. Paul was stunned. You attributed it to pure luck. Yet since then, it was never let go.

When you begin to notice Paul approaching you, you credit your awareness of his movement to knowing him more than you knew your surroundings. You weren’t the most skilled warrior. Your mother belongs to a notable house, which forced you to learn slightly more than the basic survival skills. Some chastised her for withholding you from Bene Gesserit training, or perhaps more in depth training that would harden both your body and your mind. As far as she cared, you could hold your own in a fight, and that is all you needed.

But you knew Paul. The ins and outs. Sometimes, late at night when you would allow the sickness of infatuation to fall upon you as you gazed at the stars, you liked to think that you and Paul were intertwined. You liked to convince yourself that your souls were intertwined and codependent.

It is hard to dispute that claim when you know based on intuition alone that Paul is right behind you.

(You can also feel his body heat and his presence behind you, but in your mind that is not nearly as romantic.)

You spin around to face Paul, your arms raised and body tensed with preparation to fight.

Paul eyes your posture, cocks his head to the side, and mirrors it.

It’s over quickly.

Paul has your dagger thrown to the side within the first three movements. He has your hands restricted in his grasp in the next two movements. With just one more movement, he has your cheek and chest pressed against the wall with your hands bound behind your back. For just a moment more, he stands a respectable distance away from you.

With the space between you both, the position could be passed off as friendly. The position could pass as the competitive nature it resembled.

Until Paul takes a step closer and flushes his crotch against your backside, making you well aware of the stiff form within his trousers.

For just a moment more, you let yourself revel in the feeling with your eyes closed, the rate of your breathing evening out now that you aren’t exerting yourself. You shimmy your hips just a bit, nestling Paul’s erection between your cheeks as best as you can with lack of movement and layers hindering your abilities.

But then the moment is gone. You push it away when you speak.

“Paul,” you intend for the syllables of his name to be a warning. At first, they come out as a pleading whine, so you clear your throat and try again.

“Paul.” This time, it is firm and demanding.

When Paul hums, it is against the shell of your ear. The proximity allows you to feel his voice instead of just hearing it, and you are instantly reminded of the times Paul had been on his knees between your legs and using the vibration that came from him to bring you pleasure you have not felt since.

“We really shouldn’t.” You’re trying to convince both him and yourself.

“Why shouldn’t we?”

The question should not have to be asked. It is a question that should not need to be answered, for you both know what is preventing you from having the other in ways from before.

You do not answer. Your forehead thuds against the wall, your warm breath rebounds against the wall and hits your lower face when you exhale.

Paul starts to gently rock his hips into yours. His free hand, the one not restricting your movement, presses flat against the cement structure.

When the pleasure increases, and your desire follows, you lift your head and let it lull to the side, resting the side of your skull against the toned muscles in Paul’s bicep. You start to give in.

Your lips part in a moan devoid of any sound as Paul asks you again.

“Tell me, my star. Why shouldn’t we?”

He lets go of your hands, instead using his own for a more important cause. His palm glides up the side of your shirt until he reaches your breast. You cannot feel the warmth of his touch through your layers, but just the pressure alone is enough to have you choking around your words.

“Because it’s not right, Paul,” you eventually tell him.

Paul tuts. The hand on the wall meets your waist, his fingertips pressing into the area as he uses his grip to pull you back against him.

“What d’you mean it’s not right?” He kisses the side of your neck and at this moment, you are considering letting him take you here and now. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking.

You had not realized just how bad you missed Paul until now. Your mind has conjured up images of him in your sleep, perfect replicas of his face created from memories of your time spent together and imagining what could be if you just release your inhibitions. When Paul gently sinks his teeth into the skin along your shoulder, it dawns on you that with just a bit more time, your dreams could easily walk into the waking world.

Maybe you were just about to give in. Maybe Paul would have convinced you to let him finally have you.

Either way, the moment is lost whenever Paul steps away from you, taking away all of the contact points in one singular move.

You turn to face him with your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes already beginning to sting with rejection whenever the door opens.

You turn your head, both stunned and grateful to see Duncan Idaho walking through, his stride strong and purposeful until he notices you standing in front of Paul.

He takes a moment to cast his eyes between both of you. You watch his gaze flicker around the room, no doubt taking in as much information as he could, before he lands on you.

“Didn’t know you were joining us today, Eyes.” It is no surprise that Duncan pulls on the same story from before for your nickname. Just as you have yet to let the anecdote go, he has yet to let the nickname go.

“I’m not,” you tell him, attempting to subtly adjust your garments. It is clear that you were not as subtle as you could have been whenever Duncan eyes you up and down. You swear there is something akin to knowing on his face.

“I was just leaving.”

“Don’t leave on my accord. Paul could use more of a challenge, isn’t that right?” Duncan smiles teasingly and finally looks at your stepbrother. You do the same.

(You are surprised to see that Paul does not look as flustered as you anticipated him to. You hope you did not pull the short stick.)

“Oh … yes.” Paul turns to face you with a smile similar to Duncan’s on his lips. “Join us … little sis.” The term of endearment sounds foreign coming from him. That is not the only reason why it makes you cringe.

You understand that both of them are making a joke at your expense. There have been a few times where you foolishly joined Duncan and Paul during their sessions, only to get knocked on your ass by Paul and goaded into getting back up by Duncan. The cycle would continue until you could do nothing but lay in bed the next day, praying for a speedy recovery so you would not waste a day that could be spent in Paul's presence.

Now that you live here, that one issue would be taken care of. Still, you prefer to be able to comfortably move around without bruises and aches restricting your movement.

Although your mind is already made up, you cannot help but attempt to defend yourself.

“Who says I haven’t gotten better?”

Paul smirks. You both know that while you have improved, he has too. He will always be ahead of you. The compromising position you were in only a few minutes ago serves as proof.

“Have you?” Duncan asks.

Your reply comes in the form of dismissal, which you do as politely as you can, adding only slight annoyance to your tone that you could only display in the presence of Duncan and none of the other members of House Atreides.

“Enjoy yourselves. Paul, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Paul nods once and then you leave with the boisterous sound of Duncan’s laughter escorting you out.

Dinner is much like breakfast.

Duke Leto joins this time, which allows for much more conversation. But the stiff and tense air still permeates the dining room. It takes you half of your entree to decipher exactly where the energy is coming from, but it is so clear once it is revealed that you cannot help but beat yourself up over your previous confusion just a bit.

Different from earlier in the morning, your mother sits at the head of the table with Duke Leto on the other end. Lady Jessica has been casted off and forced to sit across from you and Paul. She appears uncomfortable in the seat, constantly readjusting herself between quick statements that clearly express her discontent at the new arrangement.

You would have focused more on the dramatics of your family dinner table if Paul were not toying with you beneath it.

You are incredibly thankful that he kept his hands to himself, but his feet are just as insistent. Just as restless.

They poke against yours constantly, not in an attempt to gather your attention as you would consistently send looks his way. Never were they returned. He would either be discussing his day with his father, talking to either of your mothers, or focused on the diminishing food on his plate.

There were a few occasions where you thought Paul’s actions were accidental. You would draw your foot back, but when his covered toes found yours once more, you knew it to be another one of his games. It was juvenile and childish, but you found yourself allowing it to happen.

You would take any form of Paul’s touch, so long as it did not compromise too much.

You repeat your philosophy in your mind over and over again like the sayings of the Bene Gesserit whenever Paul approaches you.

You stand in the center of your bedroom in your night clothes. Your curtains are still open, exposing the vast nothingness that the sea presents itself as since the sun has set. The stars twinkle above, and you had already prepared yourself for a night of tracing constellations before Paul entered.

He stands in front of you, dressed just as down as you are. His hair is still a little wet from bathing, and you briefly recount the many times you played with the curls until they began to dampen and eventually dry. Each time, his hair would look unkempt in the mornings, but Paul never cared. He claimed that his hair was just a reminder of the night he spent with you.

You would pretend to be unaffected by his sweet talking, only to flush at the memory of his words later in the day.

“Are you listening to me, my star?” His words pull you from your senseless daydreaming.

“What was that?”

Paul’s lips tug up in the corners as he dips his head for a moment. When he looks at you once more, he takes a step closer.

You knew why he was here in the first place, but the advance of his hand reaching for your waist still has your breath hitching.

“I was wondering if you would let me have a taste of you.”

He stares at you, waiting for an answer. Meanwhile, you are losing yourself as you continue to look into his eyes, analyzing the way his long and dark eyelashes add depth to them for the millionth time.

Eventually, the raise of his eyebrows cue you.

“Paul,” you start with a soft tone, an attempt to keep it neutral. But Paul knows you just as well as you know him. Possibly even better.

He senses the impending rejection woven in just the syllables of his name.

He sighs. He pulls you closer by your hips. He rests his forehead against yours and presses his hands into your lower back.

He says your name. No, he breathes it. His breath hits your lips before you part them. With his next exhale, you inhale. The pattern continues until Paul prepares to speak, but you interrupt him.

“She knows.”

You do not have to specify exactly who you are talking about.

Paul sighs again, this time as if he is defeated.

“Of course she knows. My mother is all knowing, didn’t you know?” He speaks with faux amusement. He’s lighthearted, and the emotion is completely misplaced.

“We can’t go back to doing this, Paul.”

He begins to speak over you, but you continue.

“Paul, we can’t. No. No. It’s too dangerous. It’s too–”

“We can. Yes, we can, my star. Look at me–”

You do as told, removing the touch of your foreheads from the others to look at each other head on once more.

“What are you so afraid of?”

The question is so simple. The answer is, too. It is one you have run over in your head day in and day out since moving in just a few months ago. It is the same response you reminded yourself of whenever Paul would touch you, even if it were just an accidental graze of his knuckles against yours.

The difficulty comes with admittance.

But in the safe confines of your bedroom, with nothing but the moon, stars, and sea as a witness, you open your mouth.

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

Paul shakes his head gently, sending little water droplets flying.

“You will never lose me. You know that.”

“Yes, I will, Paul.”

“No. Why would you say that? We live together now. We’re bound together.”

It takes a moment to wring yourself out of Paul’s touch, and when you do, he keeps his hands suspended in the air without making any attempts to straighten his posture. He looks dejected.

You approach your window, staring off into the distance as you say, “Exactly. We are bound together in ways that will never reach marriage. We cannot get married.”

Paul’s footsteps are near silent as he approaches you.

“Does that mean you cannot be mine and I cannot be yours? What we have will always transcend marriage, my star.”

When you do not bother to respond, there is a resounding thud.

You look to your side to find Paul on his knees before you. You, the bastard daughter, have brought the heir of House Atreides to his knees. Like this, with the low lighting in your bedroom reflecting the highest points of his cheekbones and emphasizing the valleys along the plane of his face, it is easy to remind yourself that Paul Atreides is just as much of a bastard as you.

You two are in this together. Why should you not be together as well?

You are already planning to accept when he begs.

“Please? Just one taste and I will let you be if that is what you wish. You have my word.”

Typically, Paul is a man of his word. When you were kids and you accidentally knocked over a vase, a gift from another of the houses, Paul never told a soul just as he promised. When you had the tiniest crush on Duncan and let Paul in on the secret, he never told. He had given you his word both times.

It is this time when you first are made aware of Paul’s capacity for dishonesty.

Either way, you lift the skirt of your nightgown.

Paul fits between your legs without much difficulty at all. While it may have been a while since you allowed yourselves this delicacy, it is as easy as breathing to return to the routine.

Paul begins to lick and suck at your essence with appreciation derived from deprivation. His hands press into the fat of your backside, either to hold you steady or keep you flush against him. In any case, you are securely pressed against Paul’s mouth and he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

You feel similarly, throwing your leg over his shoulder and digging the heel of your foot into the defined muscles of his back. Your hand presses against the glass plane beside you when Paul puckers his lips and sucks along your clit.

The position calls for some maneuvering. You bend your standing leg, then grip Paul’s curls with your freehand, pulling him just a little closer to your center. His tongue has slid down to your hole and bringing him closer has bumped his nose against your clit. The bud catches the ridge of it, and you shamelessly run your hips side to side in an attempt to catch it again. Paul, noticing your efforts, does it for you.

He grabs your ass just a bit tighter, adjusting your robes with one hand before returning to his handfuls, and then he shakes his head just enough to provide the stimulation you were searching for. He dips his tongue into your entrance, brings it back out, and repeats the movement. Coupled with the alternating shake of his nose against your clit, and your recent abstinence, you are close sooner than you would have preferred.

You sacrifice your minute control over him when you free his hair from your hands, and instead imprison the linen fabric of your gown within your grasp. You pull your garb up, scrunching the fabric into your hand to get a look at Paul.

When his eyes are revealed, they are already casted up towards you. They crinkle at the corners as if he is smiling at you, and the shape you feel against your cunt is confirmation. When he peels away from you there is a visible erotic sheen across his lips.

“I forgot how good you taste.”

He speaks to you casually, in a fashion to the conversations of nonsensical small talk you had been subjected to earlier in the day.

For some reason, this makes your head spin.

You nudge your hips back in Paul’s direction and he does not have to be told to return to work.

There is so much slip and slide between your legs that you cannot tell what is your arousal and what is his saliva. The combination of fluids multiples whenever Paul slides a finger in your entrance, slinking it along your insides before he finds the spot. He pays extra attention to it, watching you as he slips another finger in to join it without much time in between.

You have not been aware of the volume of your moans until Paul begins to flick your clit with his tongue, after which a croaky sound slips past your lips and it is entirely too loud for the circumstances.

Your hand slaps over your mouth before you can stop it.

Paul shakes his head, removing his lips from you but not his fingers. He chastises you.

“Don’t do that to me, my star.”

That is all he has to say for you to remove your hand and continue to let the sounds that encourage him spill out.

(Luckily, your sleeping quarters exist further away from the other’s.)

It is only a few more moments before your lower abdomen tenses and an orgasm seizes control of your body without much warning in advance. You grip your robes for stability, press your fingers into the glass of the window, and keep Paul close with your leg wound around his shoulders.

He had no intention of leaving at all. He continues to lick at you, now incorporating a loud slurp that is seemingly intended to clean you up.

When the twitching of your muscles has ceased, both of your feet have rejoined the floor for only a minute before Paul has your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carries you off towards your bed.

“May I continue?” he asks as he lays you on your back at the foot of the furniture.

There is no hesitation when you tell him, “Please do.”

‎

You heard the hushed whispers echoing throughout the hall, spreading information that should have solely remained private to your personal quarters.

"They appear to be close. Too close," came from the voices of your maids, spoken with excitement as the thrill from sharing tales that did not concern them flooded their bodies. Like always, they were in small huddles, bodies curved into each other, their postings abandoned as they assumed that no Atreides would be wandering the halls at this house.

Except you were.

Your lightweight garbs noiselessly tap against your ankle with each careful step, freed from the extensive jewelry you were usually kept in throughout the day. As of late, your mother has been presenting you as a jewel in an attempt to delude the Houses into forgetting that you are a bastard. House Atreides wanted for you to be seen as the potential for great alliances.

Paul was presented the same.

Marriage became the topic of conversation more often, and you and Paul played the parts you needed to.

You played the parts necessary to continue this.

His door is cracked just enough for you to silently slip in.

“They were talking about us again.” The lack of romance within Paul’s greeting words do not matter as much when his hands wind around your hips.

Still, you can’t help but tease him just a bit. Your hands find his shoulders, palms easily gliding back until you can comfortably tug at his dark curls.

“Could you at least tell me you missed me before we dive into Castle gossip? What happened to romance, Paul?”

He smiles at you like he had been expecting you to say something along those lines. He leans in, pressing his lips to your cheeks and then your nose.

“Hello, my love. How I’ve missed you so. I have no idea how I lasted this long without you.” He is exaggerating. It has only been a couple of days since you and Paul last met into the hours of the night.

You scoff and gently slap his shoulders. You do not bother hiding the effect of his words on you.

“I heard the maids talking on my way down here.” You dive into repeating the words echoing around the concrete castle walls, but the way Paul looks at you is distracting you. His green eyes plainly flicker from your eyes to your lips, back and forth, back and forth, with a speed that says he does not want to be caught in the act. His lips, slightly chapped but no less appealing, are parted, allowing his tongue to briefly appear before disappearing back into his mouth.

You let your words taper off.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

He nods once. When he speaks, his voice is a gentle whisper. “I know. I just didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Luckily I’m done now.”

Paul kisses you with familiarity.

You knew that no matter what, you and Paul would be married off to others. But in your deluded mind, you figured that you might as well have fun while you could. You might as well pretend that Paul Atreides was yours, and you were his, until eventually that would be forced to change.

#celeste writes dune #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #dune smut #dune fanfic #cw stepcest

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blazingstarship · 1 year

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soo…yeah👉👈

#✨blazing gush #i feel extra loving and just maybe its him maybe its someone else #idk just i had this guy on my mind once in a while and…I smile lots when I see him and go ‘awww’ and my heart beats like when you first feel #for your f/o but this is just…idk not romantic but crush wise #i think its a little crush #and the feel is gone when I dont see him but I saw him today and Im…crushing #and he is so not my type but..the soft expressions and hidden carrying stuff just makes me swoon #and he likes a girl and they have couple vibes but this doesnt brother at all than with yus and a🔑#this ship is actual cute and well built #and uhm ‘he’ makes me think more that my apperance is cute and beautiful #with yusei I had and still have times Im sure if Im good enough cause of what the series wanna push #it doesnt say I dont love Yusei less but its nice to have this kind of feeling for once #a feeling Im pretty and not to have to cheer myself up by pushing myself to make concepts of us cause faithship artworks are showing up #everywhere I look even I blocked lots they keep coming like those grass stuff idk how to call it in english #‘he’ makes me relax….maybe should give him a name #I had this situation two years ago too with ‘captain cutie or cappie’ idk how I called but that fainted away #hmmm bullfinch thats what I gonna call him

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gaynglican · 3 months

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I work in an art gallery with some amazing works by Vincent Van Gogh, and I keep find myself defending his honor. People frustrate me to no end.

Some people look at his artwork, which is full of immense love for the world, and go, "Oh, how sad. He was crazy. Isn't this painting SAD?" And, it's one of the most joyful paintings on earth.

The worst people are those who mock his artwork because he was "crazy". Upon looking at a beautiful, delicate, loving, and meditative artwork, a father nudged his son. "Isn't this the crazy guy who cut off his own ear?" The son laughed. "That's disgusting," the son said, and they laughed together.

Vincent Van Gogh wanted to be a priest. He felt God's love in everything and everyone. The priesthood didn't work out, but nevertheless Vincent especially felt God's love in the unloved. He painted every breeze in the air, and the veins in the unnoticed laborer's hands.

I don't think Van Gogh's swirling spirals are crazy. I think they're meditations on God's love, breathed through all Creation. To me, these paintings are a prayer.

#episcopal #vincent van gogh #van gogh #art history

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awearywritersworld · 3 months

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the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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just4koo · 6 months

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cornflower blue - jjk.

summary: nights were your favorite time with your boyfriend. the nights where you laid in bed together, tangled up in each other without any thoughts of the real world.

word count: 4.3k

genre/warnings: established relationship, porn with (kinda) plot, fluff, smut!!, unprotected sex, soft!dom jungkook, really soft overall, lots of praise, fingering, aftercare, dirty talk, creampie, jk loves to use pet names (tbh i didn't proofread this)

bruised on your face like a watercolor bloom, moonlight paints your skin cornflower blue

Every time you got a glance of your boyfriend, you wondered how on earth you were so lucky to find him. Every morning you spent next to him, you thanked whatever brought him to you because you couldn't imagine a life without him anymore. Without sharing your mornings and evenings together, having stay at home dates, sharing everything. The good, bad, and the ugly. There were moments where you felt like you could just stare at him for hours. Right now was one of those moments.

It was the mundane moments that really got to you. He had just gotten home from work a couple hours prior. The two of you had shared dinner together, he had ranted about his day like usual, and he had gone to the bathroom for his routine shower before bed. Now he was laying on the bed with you in all his glory. Damp hair, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, pajamas lazily pulled on, the two of you watching an episode of the baking competition show you two loved so much.

Somewhere during the episode you had lost focus once you got a glimpse of your boyfriend. He was much more interesting than the show to you, much more beautiful than any piece of artwork. Every curve and dip of his face, every blemish and mole, it was so perfect. The light of the TV brightened his features enough, allowing you to look at him even more in depth. Swoon over the beautiful brown eyes that were focused on the show.

It was almost as if your boyfriend could sense you staring. After a couple minutes of you watching him, his eyes flickered over to you. Earlier on in the relationship you would've shied away from his gaze at the prospect of being caught, but not anymore. Not when all you wanted to do every second of the day was remind him just how perfect he was. His eyes immediately softened when he saw you already looking at, revealing the gaze that he always had reserved only for you.

"Feeling tired, baby?" He asked in a tone full of affection, one of his hands moving to gently brush a strand of your hair out of your face. Your heart practically fluttered as his fingertips barely grazed the skin of your cheek. He was always so attentive to you that it made your heart throb uncontrollably.

"Mhm.. Can we just lay down and listen to our playlist?" You asked quietly, provoking a soft smile from him. It was one of the things you both loved to do. You loved music equally, and that love had produced a playlist that the two of you only listened to together. It had everything on it. Silly songs, slow songs, things that you wanted to recommend to each other. The song had 700 songs and was still being added to.

"Of course we can, come here.." Jungkook replied, holding an arm open for you. Without a second thought you were immediately abandoning your spot on the bed next to him in favor for crawling directly into his arms. With an arm now wrapped around you he cut off the TV and opened his phone, going into his music app to play the playlist. One of the first songs that played was soft R&B, one of the songs that had been recommended to him by his fans.

A small yawn fell from your lips as you rested your head against his shoulder just like always. His hand had instinctively traveled under your t-shirt, starting to rub slow circles into your waist. You had one of your hands in his hair, playing with the soft strands that he had decided to grow out a while ago. Everything in the moment felt perfect, like it was where the two of you belonged. Laying in bed with your limbs tangled, listening to the music.

You eventually found yourself looking back at Jungkook, you just couldn't help it. How could you not admire the most breathtaking person you'd ever laid eyes on? Especially not when he was looking right back at you, his eyes holding the same admiration that you were feeling for him at the moment. It was almost like the music faded into the background and now you were just stuck sharing a gaze with your boyfriend. Without the light of the TV anymore, the moonlight casted a blue hue in your shared bedroom, illuminating his features.

He was so stunning that it hurt. You wished nothing more than to be able to fully convey the things you felt for him. There wasn't a day that you didn't tell him how much you loved him or how handsome he was, and yet you still felt as if it wasn't enough. Words could never truly describe the emotions this man drew out of your soul. Without even knowing he made you want to be the best version of yourself possible.

"What're you thinking of, my love?" Jungkook eventually questioned, unable to hold in his curiosity anymore. You would often do this, look at him without really saying it. While other people may have commented on it or thought it was a bit strange, he never did. Because he knew that when you were looking at him in that way, you were feeling all of the same things that he felt for you.

"You. I'm always thinking of you." You answered, causing that familiar feeling of butterflies in his stomach. No matter how long the two of you had been dating, one thing never changed. The magnitude of your feelings for each other. Most couples had honeymoon phases, losing the initial level of interest they had in each other once they got to know one another. But it wasn't that way for you and Jungkook. No, it had been the opposite. The closer you two grew together, the harder and deeper you fell.

You were eventually snapped out of your reverie by the sensation of your boyfriend's fingers brushing against your cheek again. This time, intentional. You looked back up into his eyes as you felt this, seeing him looking right back down at you. A soft smile pulled at the corner of his lips when he noticed the slight flush on your cheeks in the soft blue light of the moon. To him, you were a masterpiece. There was no purpose in going to museums when he had the most beautiful sight right in front of him, everyday.

"God, I wish you knew how much I love you." He breathed out. You felt your flush deepen at those words. The thing that brought you the most amount of happiness was knowing that what Jungkook felt for you was the same. You were both two young adults hopelessly in love with each other, the two of you against the world forever. The promise ring on your right hand sealing in your future together.

After a few more moments existing in the silence together, the two of you were simultaneously leaning in for a kiss. If you had one last wish before you died, it would be to experience this. To feel his soft lips slot against yours and draw away all of your worries. To take you to a place where you didn't have to worry about anything. Where you could just exist with him; live without any doubts for the future or any regrets for the past.

The two of you kissed softly and gently, getting lost in the warmth you got from each other. At one point, the feeling of you two kissing was becoming too much. The music provided a soft melody, joined with the new sound of the two of your breaths becoming more rushed. Your hands becoming more curious the longer your lips stayed locked. It was impossible when everything you felt for each other was so strong. The fire fueled by being so close.

With a small hum, Jungkook's other hand had slipped under your shirt, holding onto your waist to gently pull you closer. Kissing you was a dream to him, and he wanted every bit of it you let him have. With you, he wanted to do all of the things that lovers do. He wanted to worship and admire every single square inch of your body, because it was what you deserved. He saw you as a goddess that walked the earth, and he got the opportunity to feel your love.

"Jungkook.." You softly whispered his name as you felt his hands beginning to caress the skin of your back. He had never heard a prettier noise. Your boyfriend's touches were making your body warm up, always so sensitive to even the smallest touches from him. Your heart was practically pounding out of your chest when he grabbed ahold of your waist and flipped your positions, his elbows on either side of your head and his knees resting on the outsides of yours.

"Shh... I know, pretty." Jungkook replied quietly. He wasted no more time in pulling the sleep shirt over your head, leaving your upper half exposed to him. His eyes took the time to slowly drag down your exposed skin, his pupils dilated and his lips slightly parted. He looked as if he was in awe as he took a mental picture of the sight of you, how you looked laying back against the sheets, your skin practically glowing cornflower blue.

You were about to get shy about the way that he was observing you at the moment, but any thoughts were quickly wiped from your mind when his lips landed on your neck. Your body shivered in an immediate reaction to his touch, feeling the way he smiled against your skin. His lips worked gently and slow, trailing kisses all across the skin. One of your hands had tangled into his hair, wanting to keep him in place.

His fingers were once again gently rubbing your waist as his wet kisses slowly began to travel down your body, wanting to appreciate every single curve and crevice of your body. Your breath hitched when his tongue began to trace your areola. He always loved paying attention to your breasts, loved the soft skin on them and the way that you moaned so angelically whenever he stimulated you here. Just as expected, he earned one of those moans when his lips latched around your nipple.

He sucked gently, always sure to move his hand to attend to the breast he wasn't paying attention to. He flattened his tongue to move directly against your skin, ever so gently grazing his teeth against your nipple and earning a tug on his hair that made him moan. He finally pulled back only to give your other breast the same exact treatment. Jungkook was always a giver, and he made sure that no spot of your body was left unattended.

After a minute or so of this, it had become too much from you. The pool of arousal between your legs was so severe that it was giving you an uncomfortable sensation. You pulled his head away from your chest, his eyes immediately looking up at you with concern, wondering if he had done anything wrong or accidentally hurt you.

"I'm fine, Koo. I just.. I need you now." You said in an almost pleading tone, feeling borderline desperate. The worry on his features dissolved and instead was replaced with a grin, although you could clearly see the desire in his eyes just as strong as you felt it. He had no complaints though, he would do anything you asked.

Without wasting another moment he was undressing himself, taking off his t-shirt and the pajama pants he'd been wearing. Leaving himself in just his black Calvin Klein boxers that was enough to make any woman drool at the sight. Yet, this man was the one practically drooling at you while he was gently pulling down both your shorts and panties. This was a sight that Jungkook would give up everything to see. He wouldn't trade you for all the fame and fortune in the world. He had won the lottery with you.

"You're so damn beautiful.." Jungkook said without much thought, his tatted hands moving to rest on your thighs. They massaged the flesh gently, taking the time to appreciate the softness of your thighs. It was always one of his favorite parts of you. He had spent countless times fixated on your thighs, kissing and touching them. But he knew that tonight, neither of you had much patience. So after a few moments, his hands gently spread your thighs open.

"Such a pretty little pussy as well. Why does every part of you have to be so perfect?" He added on once he got a sight of the mess between your legs. Your cheeks were flushed deep red at his words. He had always been blunt with his words and how he felt about you. Sometimes it made you feel light and happy, other times like now it only fueled the burning fire of desire you felt for your boyfriend.

Not wanting to spend any more time making you shy, he started to give you what you wanted. His middle finger slowly swiped down your pussy, all the way from the hood of your clit to your slit. His eyes watched in wonder as you clenched down on nothing, so desperate to have him inside of you. If it was his choice, he would spend hours doing this. If he knew that it wouldn't torture you, he could be here all day playing with you.

Even though he could tell that you wanted him right at that moment, he always made sure to prep you a little before. Sparing a few moments using his fingers was worth it when he could ease the pain that you felt when his cock initially split you open. The one thing he hated most was seeing you in pain, especially if it was something that he could've prevented. So even though he saw the anticipation burning in your eyes, he didn't give in yet.

Your whole body shuddered when his thumb pressed directly against your clit. He rubbed in slow, small circles. All focus on the way that your back slightly arched off the bed and your hole was desperately fluttering. Just the sight was enough to elicit a groan from him. You drove him absolutely crazy, just as he was doing to you. Even the slight touch of his finger was enough to make your whole body react.

"Jungkook, please-" You started to beg, but was cut off abruptly when you felt his index finger push past your entrance. A moan fell from your lips as you were finally feeling some of the stimulation that you wanted.

"Patience, darling. Let me stretch out you a bit, okay? You're doing so well already." Jungkook muttered. His finger slowly began to pump inside of you while his thumb continued to give attention to your puffy clit. One of the things he loved most was the way that you were always so receptive to everything he gave you. You were so reactive also, unafraid to show him just how good he could make you feel.

A little while later he added his middle finger to join. There was already a sheen layer of sweat covering your body due to everything you were feeling at the moment. He worked ever so gently, fingers slowly scissoring inside of you to try and stretch you out a bit more. He made sure to stimulate your clit the whole time, making it easier for you to open up for him. He spent a few minutes just doing this, fingers curling against the spongy spot he had memorized, just as every other part of your body was to him.

He had spent so many times doing this, that he knew every way your body reacted. He knew what every twitch looked like, every expression on your face. He never got tired of this. How could he ever get bored of watching the one person he loved so much falling apart due to his touch? It was a sight he would never lose.

The closer you came to your climax, the more vocal you became. There were moans coming from your mouth, mumbles of his name, small whimpers. It all rushed through his body and went straight to his already painfully hard erection. Even though it was borderline painful, he didn't mind waiting if it meant you were properly prepared for him.

He stared as your hips began to twitch, knowing your climax was close. He ever so slightly quickened the pace of his thumb against your clit and it was enough to send you over the edge. Your hands that had been resting on his shoulders dug into the skin as your whole body trembled with the force of your orgasm. In just minutes he had you falling apart on his fingers, unable to do anything else but call out for him as he continued to move his fingers inside of you, letting you ride out your high.

He finally pulled his fingers away when he felt the taps on his shoulder, knowing exactly what it meant. You shivered a little when his fingers slipped out of your pussy, his fingers wet with your essence. He wasted no time in bringing his fingers up to his mouth, tasting your release with a deep groan. Just the sight of your boyfriend sat back on his heels with his fingers in his mouth, cock straining his boxers, was enough to immediately turn you on again.

"I need you please, so bad.." You finally uttered after coming back from the overwhelming sensations he'd given to you. Your hands were already on the waistband of his boxers, his eyes intently staring you down as he pulled his clean fingers from his mouth. He watched as you pulled down his boxers, helping you remove them fully. He saw your reaction to the way his cock sprung up to gently hit his stomach, showing just how much he desired you.

You reached out for him immediately, wrapping one of your hands around the base of his erection, drawing out a quiet hiss from under his breath. You barely had time to slide your hand up before he was taking your hand away and pinning you back down to the bed. He looked down at you with so many emotions in his eyes. Love, affection, desire, lust. Everything that you felt for him completely mirrored.

"How could I ever resist you when you sound so pretty for me?" Jungkook questioned quietly, his knees pushing your thighs apart to nestle himself between your legs. His hands held both of yours, pinning them down to the bed. His eyes were locked onto yours, always wanting to stare right into the eyes of his lover as he showed just how much he felt for you.

One of his hands momentarily moved to take ahold of his throbbing cock, rubbing it against your entrance. You were both immediately moaning in your neediness. He knew that there was no way he would be able to last long, not when what he felt for you was so intense. Unable to take anymore of the torture, he finally aligned himself with your entrance, guiding his hips slowly to make sure he didn't hurt you.

"Oh my god, you're so perfect." Jungkook's face fell to the crook of your neck, having to use all of his strength to hold himself back from drilling into you. Your head fell back against the pillow when you felt his cock splitting you open, pushing past your entrance. Your walls were immediately pulsing around him and he swore that he was in heaven. Once he bottomed out he stayed still, free hand going down to rub small patterns into your clit to help you ease up, his lips kissing against the delicate skin of your neck.

"You can move now, please.." You whispered after getting used to the feeling of your boyfriend deep inside of you. His stimulation to your clit helped and now you were just desperate for him to make love to you in the same way he always did.

Jungkook immediately began to move at your permission, hips pulling almost all the way back before he thrusted back into you. Every slight movement of your body was enough to make his cock twitch. From only just a few moments he felt like he was so close to the edge. Every time he felt like he was about to orgasm he would slow down, edging himself to bring you more pleasure. You were always his first priority.

"This cunt is so sweet, baby. Made just for me, hm?" Jungkook asked as his hips rolled against yours. He worked at a steady pace, not wanting to rush things when everything felt so perfect. For once you two didn't have to rush in the fleeting moments during the day before you had things to get done. No, both of you were with each other in the light of the moon, without a worry of a single thing other than each other.

"Yes, Jungkook! Only for you.." You practically whimpered out, back arching and pussy clenching at his sweet praise. That was enough for him to practically lose control of himself. His hands gripped your thighs now, pushing them against your chest so he could reach even deeper into your insides.

"Fuck, that's right. Only for me. Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" His voice was becoming more high pitched, moans borderline raspy at this point. You sounded so sweetly to him, like an angel coming down to bless him personally. Sometimes he wondered if you were actually a dream, but these moments were too real for him.

Your response to his words was a high pitched moan, nails desperately clutching at the sheets the deeper he forced his cock into you, the longer his finger quickly rubbed at your clit. It was all too much, yet you could never get enough of him, of what he gave you. You had always been his good girl, and you always would be. The love of his life, his darling. Every single word he fed to you just made you feel even closer to your climax.

"I love you so much, you know that right? N-never forget that.." Jungkook breathed out with a slight stutter, almost unable to think straight at this point. He was ruining himself right now by how hard he was holding back, his balls painfully aching every time he drove himself back into your sopping pussy.

The sound of your joined moans along with your cunt squelching with every single deep thrust was a melody to him that no other music could ever come close to. No sounds could give him the same amount of satisfaction and feelings as this did. He loved you with every single fiber of his being. He needed you even more than that.

"I l-love you too. I can't.." Your voice was so desperate at this point, unable to formulate any proper sentences. But he knew. He always did when it came to you. He could feel the way your whole body was trembling right now, he could see the way your eyebrows were pulled together and the way you were biting down on your bottom lip. You were close to your second orgasm, and he wanted nothing more than to fill you with all of his love.

"I know, darling. Want to feel you cream my cock. Come for me." Jungkook mumbled into your ear, almost unable to contain himself anymore. Giving you the final push as his lips crashed against yours, reaching your peak for the second time that night. Your body tensed up and thighs trembled, your lips parting in a silent moan.

The sight of you at the height of your pleasure was too much for Jungkook to bear. With a few sharp thrusts into your quivering pussy, he let out a prolonged groan as you felt his cum filling you in long spurts. His hips were pushed flush against yours, his cock quivering as he felt you milk him for all he was worth.

As the both of you came down from your highs he lazily ground his hips against yours a few more times, letting the two of you come down slowly from your highs. Once the both of you winced at the feeling, he pulled out of you, cock now soft and covered in the mess the both of you created. He looked down at your hole, watching with interest as the mix of your cum was spilling from your entrance.

Fighting off the urge to push it back into your used pussy, he got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, coming back with a rag to clean you up before any more of the cum got onto the bedsheets. Like always, he made sure to wipe the both of you down before getting back into the bed right next to you. Not bothering to get back dressed as he just wanted to hold you.

His arms immediately wrapped around you and pulled you closer, causing you to smile. Your body was exhausted but it was the best feeling. The pleasure was still running through your body. Even more importantly, you still felt all of the love from before. He never failed to make you feel loved and appreciated. Your boyfriend was amazing.

"I love you." You mumbled to him, smiling lightly at the song that came on, remembering the music the two of you had been listening to. The moon was still high in the sky, leaving the two of you with more time to lay together. More time to stay in your little bubble without any worries, no thoughts except ones of each other. Being in the comfort of knowing that you loved him, and he loved you just as much.

"I love you too."

in the morning, i'll love the mangled bits of you i'll love you when your lips turn cornflower blue

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