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corollaservant · 21 hours

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Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/ very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked.

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said” Satoru sighed “please get the fuck out the store or it will be, sir” and while there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once, well, in your defense the café was crowded yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would – today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyways.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly like he expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He laughed internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P-please don't kill me!” was the first thing you mewled as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I-I am all alone.. I- one moment-'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on, you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” he whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S- satoru, what?” Your voice trembled as the cash fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” you cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries escaping your lips. Well.. you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you seemed cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F-fuck you!” You yelled as his firm hands stopped you and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you until 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he'd figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud, it affected you. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise – actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so–

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? You wouldn't risk it, everyone talked about the criminals in the neighborhood, you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys.” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spouts, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He says and quickly advances forward punching him in the face. It happens fast, you can't even see it but one punch is all it takes to knock him down, as he climbs on top. He pulls his fists down interchangeably multiple times — must be about 7 blows that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P-please.. let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball as blood oozes from his mouth and scalp. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

His house was large and seemed haunted, there was a long corridor with 4 separate doors and frames hanging on the walls with paintings you didn't recognize. He gives you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was unique. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you, both physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9 he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry – spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily, as you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His erection pressed against you – he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away and his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger in you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway and he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You take a deep breath.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but – you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) and pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now as he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt, he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes you open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t give a fuck about your shock – he’s close.

“What agh- what are you doing? ” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into your spasming cunt, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace.

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you moan, feeling full.

“S-stop” but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you! clenching your cunt like the little slut that you are.

“Satoru– “you moan out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest.

A hand is on your nub as he bites your neck at the same time.

“Want to come on my cock like the helpless slut that you are?” he whispers softly and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please–” you muffle and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; cock rips apart your insides making you shut your eyes as you ride out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves how it feels to have you gush on him and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter) he lifts your leg up as he angles his cock so deep, you yell, overstimulated and still scared. He cums fast and as much as he can. What doesn't make it in your cunt seeps back out. It’s not a lot since you’re stuffed to the brim and he takes his sweet time to pull out. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep.

There is no going back now.

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never curse anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually–

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Coming tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? Weren't the 2 guys enough?” Suguru mocks using a laughing face.

“Would've been just one but Toji’s conman didn't get the memo, wasn’t expecting otherwise.”

He scoffs.

”I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru double texts.

“Well you didn't have to kill him, he hasn't stopped texting me.” He can sense Suguru’s annoyed tone.

“Whatever, gotta go.”

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. He’d deal with Toji later, probably bribe him to kill for you on his behalf some more – that was his way of apologizing and Toji would do it with pleasure.

Satoru shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here. Always. Every day and for all of his nights.

He thinks about a quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night. 14 minutes till your shift ends. It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it. Or maybe you give the first part a meaning.

#jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere x reader #tw somno #tw noncon #tw dubcon #corollaservant

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ldysmfrst · 2 days

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American Mate (6) - A Proposition for You

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 6 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4911

Work count for Story: 23,924

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, arguments, comfort, Alpha Space, close proximity, and scenting.

Story Summary: The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

“Excuse me, Sirs. We have arrived at the AirBnB,” the driver announces through the van's intercom system. The voice pulls Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook's attention away from the scenting session.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Jungkook calls out loud enough to be heard past the petition between the driver’s and passenger seats. Looking down, he trails his fingers through Jimin’s hair as the tiny Alpha is now sprawled out across his and Taehyung’s lap with his eyes closed.

“Minie, we need to get out, my little love,” looking at Taehyung, “Tae? Are you good now?”

“Hmm. Yeah, Kook, I am doing better,” Taehyung opens his eyes, returning to their clear brown. Lifting Jimins legs off his lap, Taehyung moves from his seat and opens the van door.

“Minie, you cuddle bug. Time to go, I know you are nowhere near a scent high, so please get up so that we can get Y/n to see the doctor.”

Jumping up from lying on Jungkook’s lap, Jimin stumbles out the door and over to the first van, “I will get their door!”

Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle as they watch the dancer trip over one of the van's chairs, but he manages not to fall onto the curb before beelining it to the other van.

“Hey, Tae. Are you going to be okay around Y/n?”

“I think so. It might be better for me to keep my distance until she isn’t in as much pain. I think that is what is causing the most issues for my Alpha. Well, that and keeping away from that pathetic excuse of a Director.” Taehyung growls out the last part.

“I think it would be best if we all keep away from him, though I think Manager Sejin and Namjoon will have to at least deal with him a few more times.”

“Better him than us. Why don’t you go with the others, and I will help out with the luggage so that everything is where it should be?” Taehyung hugs Jungkook around the shoulders, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook looks closely at Taehyung, smelling his clear and unbothered ebony wood. “Alright, hopefully, the doctor will be here soon. I think time has flown by faster than we think. It is already starting to get dark out.”

Buzzing. All you hear is buzzing as your brain short circuits. The desire to melt into the man holding you and run from the predatory eyes of the men watching you causes your body to tense and twitch.

Suddenly, the van door opening seems louder than it should. It startled you into finally moving away from them and out of the van.

You didn’t realize how stuffy the van had gotten, but the intensity of the scents within the van does not go unnoticed by Jimin as he watches you bolt from the van right past him towards the packhouse. Yoongi followed close behind with a smirk on his lips.

“What did we miss being in the reject van?” Jimin asks no one in particular.

“Oh, you guys missed quite a bit, but we will talk about it later. Maybe once Miss Y/n goes in with the doctor,” Namjoon says as the rest leave the van.

Jungkook walks up to the group and watches you with a confused look. Manager Sejin also joins them.

“You all realize she has no idea what she is to you. She isn’t going to understand why it is nice that she is so instinctually responsive,” Manager Sejin comments using air quotes.

“Yes, Manager-nim. She just was… ah it is hard to explain,” Hoseok bashfully responds as he looks at the floor.

“Well, she isn’t my mate, and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to break it to her, but you are going to have to be careful. I know that much.” Looking at you, a softness of worry crosses his face.

“Do you guys know that she wouldn’t even ask for a bottle of water when she got to the van because she didn’t want to take something from the pack?”

“I have a feeling that she has had to be the one to take care of others and put herself last. She won’t ask for help, and accepting help will be hard for her. Especially, since you guys are so well-known and established as a mate-bonded pack.” Manager Sejin looks at his watch, down the street, and then back to the gathered group.

“The doctor should be here in a few moments. You might want to get her inside and settle in one of the unoccupied rooms, Namjoon-ssi.”

Manager Sejin bows respectfully to the group and heads to the luggage van, where he can see Taehyung giving directions.

You walked quickly, not running, up the stairs to the front porch—fresh air—cool Air. It was non-steamy, good for your heart, and not going to make you lose your job and blessed air.

Taking deep breaths, you hope to clear your mind, slow your heart to a normal pace, and regain professionalism from wherever it is hiding.

Muttering to yourself, you are unaware that Yoongi has followed you, but he keeps a distance while listening to your utterances. His smirk grows to the point his eyes are almost closed. Now that you have calmed down, you turn around and almost run into him.

“Ahh! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I need to get you and Evie both a bell. It must be a feline thing.” Glancing past Yoongi you notice Taehyung coming up the steps with some of the staff carrying in the luggage, “Should get one for him too.”

Chuckling, Yoongi shakes his head, “No bell. No house cat. Jaguar.” Taking a step closer, he sniffs, “Better? No conflict?”

You can’t help but smile softly at his concern: “No, I am fine now. I just haven’t had much skinship as one might say… outside of my family pack, as you call them.”

“I know it is a big cultural thing amongst hybrids and even more so depending on the kind of relationship involved. I guess I was just taken back by all the … all that.” You say, gesturing towards the van as if it were explaining whatever was happening inside.

Yoongi nods in understanding and takes the last step to be by your side, facing the rest of the pack. His tail again wraps around your waist, and you giggle in amusement, returning his attention with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you keeping me on a fur leash?” You ask, pointing at his tail on your waist.

Yoongi looks down at where you are pointing and looks at his tail like he doesn’t realize that he ever put it there, to begin with. With a glare like he is scolding a child, his tail starts to let go, which pulls at your heart a bit.

“It’s okay, Alpha.” You say as you stroke along the very soft black fur, laying it back in its place, “you are keeping me close and safe like a good Alpha should. Thank you for protecting me.”

Yoongi preens at the compliment while holding back a shudder at the feeling of you petting his tail. His Alpha is happy that you recognize his needs and are allowing him to continue.

“Mr. Min,” you start to speak only to get cut off with an indignant huff.

“Yoongi. Alpha. Not, Mr. Min. Yoongi.”

“Ah, umm. Okay. Yoongi,” you say with a blush as you avoid looking him in the face, “I want to thank you for helping me not land hard on the floor back at the office. I am sure I would have been in worse shape if you hadn't tried to catch me.”

“Hopefully, you know that I do not blame you for my wrist. It was just really bad timing.”

“Still hurt. Keep safe for healing,” Yoongi says, leaning down to catch your eyesight and hoping you see the truth in his words.

The truth is that he will keep you safe not only while you heal your wrist but also your heart and soul.

“Time to go ahead inside. Jin, can you make some snacks with Hobi for everyone? The rest will help with the luggage, and I will go with Yoongi and Miss Y/n to one of the guest rooms on the first floor.” Namjoon instructs the pack.

With different forms of agreement, the boys take off to do their assigned tasks. Seokjin and Hoseok smile sheepishly as they pass you, heading to the kitchen.

Namjoon walks up the stairs, his ears flicking to the street as he hears a car approaching, which could only signal the doctor’s arrival—leaving the greeting to the manager.

“Miss Y/n. Yoongi. If you please follow me, I will take you both to one of the guestrooms that you can use to meet the doctor in. We have some snacks being prepared and will bring those soon as well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to eat in one of the bedrooms, Prime Alpha Sir. Plus, my stomach isn’t feeling so well with all the pain,” ‘and the emotional waves’ you add on in your mind.

Leading you both into the house, Namjoon nods his head, “I see. I am sorry it took so long for us to get you seen. We normally heal rather quickly as hybrids. I think we kind of forgot that humans cannot do that. Sorry.”

“No worries, Prime Alpha Sir. I have a high pain tolerance, according to my mom and Derek, but I guess there is just so much that has happened in a short time that my body is just kind of everywhere. I am sorry if my scent is causing any problems as well. I know it must be all over the place.”

At that last comment, you feel a tug at your waist from the tail, causing you to stumble back into Yoongi. Who buries his nose in your neck, similar to how you were being held by Hoseok in the van, causing you to blush as you regain your footing.

“Smells good. Not bad. Y/n in pain but happy,” he says as he releases you. This time, he grabs your good hand and pulls you into the room that Namjoon has opened.

The room is significantly larger than your bedroom, that is for sure. The walls are off-white, with a dark purple accent wall containing a sitting window. The bed is a four-post queen with deep purple curtains tied back with black lace complimenting the purple and black bedding. All the furniture is in a dark, almost burnt-looking wood with iron accents.

You look around the room with your mouth agape. “It’s so beautiful here, and look!” you exclaim as you walk to the adjoining bathroom. “It comes with a private bathroom!”

Namjoon and Yoongi smile at each other as they smell your sweet pea coming out in waves with a hint of more jasmine, which the boys now understand is an indication of your happiness.

“There is also a walk-in closet, but my favorite part is the sitting window. Perfect to read in,” Namjoon adds.

There is a knock at the door, though it is standing wide open. The three of you look over to see the manager, Jungkook, and a woman with an old-fashioned medical bag standing just outside the door.

“Pardon the interruption, but Dr. Blackwell is here,” Manager Sejin states, motioning to the woman beside him, who bows.

“Dr. Blackwell! It is good to see you again, please come in. I am sure you were informed that Yoongi is in Alpha Space and will probably like to stay but I will step out if it is needed,” Namjoon greets Dr. Blackwell with a firm handshake.

Dr. Blackwell is a younger-looking woman but still older than you. Her hair is in a French braid, and she is wearing a pantsuit. Setting her bag on the chest at the end of the bed, she looks at Yoongi with kind eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Kim. I was informed and you are correct, since the patient is not a member of your pack then you will have to leave. Technically Mr. Min should leave as well but I will leave that up to the patient.”

“Oh, umm…” Looking between the doctor and Yoongi, they both seem to await your decision. “Mr. M,” you are cut off by a huff and a tug around your waist, “Sorry, Yoongi can stay for now. If anything gets too private then I ask him to step out.”

Yoongi’s actions cause the doctor and Namjoon to pause before looking at each other. Dr. Blackwell speaks first: “Mr. Kim, I was informed that Mr. Min believes to be responsible for the injury. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is right, and as a mate ~cough cough~ bonded pack we are all here to support them.”

“Oh. I see and that would explain the familiarity. Thank you, Mr. Kim, that is all I believe I need from you now. Unless you want me to check out your cough?” Dr. Blackwell teasingly asks the Prime Alpha who turns slightly pink.

“Nope, I got it. You got it. Yeah. We will head out with the rest of the pack. Gonna be waiting in the dining room near the main kitchen if you need anything or need to kick Yoongi out.”

Namjoon bows to the doctor and then smiles at you as he walks out of the room, taking Jungkook with him.

In the kitchen, the two eldest have finished preparing snacks and drinks for everyone, including the staff, who gathered around munching on them.

Pleasant conversations are happening here and there between everyone present. Everyone seems to avoid the topic of you since no one really knows what is going on except the pack and the manager.

Namjoon watches from the entryway with Jungkook. He has always felt proud of his pack and how they treat the staff like a pseudo-family pack. They have seen other idol groups treat their staff like stepping stones, which never felt right to any of the packmates.

“Hey, everyone,” Namjoon says loud enough to gain the room's attention. “The pack has to have a pack meeting while the doctor is here. I invite the staff to take some of the prepared snacks to the guest house across the lawn and settle in. We won’t be needing any services tonight aside from Manager Sejin.”

“Namjoon-ssi, I will also head over to the other house to settle in, but I will keep my phone on me. Please text me when you need me, and I will come right over,” the manager responds while holding a tray of rolled-up meats and cheeses.

“Sounds good. Bangtan Pack, we need to meet in the dining room. Grab what’s left and come sit down.”

With that, the kitchen is filled with goodbyes, see you later, and other pleasantries as everyone departs. Namjoon, knowing that he doesn’t do well in the kitchen, simply turns and heads to the dining room they will use for the pack meeting.

The rest of the boys grab what they can. The energy in the dining room is heavy, and they know that they have to discuss this, but the situation is odd. Once everyone is seated, Namjoon takes a look around the table. Each of his mates looks at him expectantly.

“We can all agree that she is our mate, right?” The Prime Alpha asks, wanting to make sure they are at least starting out on the same page. A chorus of agreement floods the room, lifting a weight off their shoulders.

“Hyung?” Jimin tentatively speaks up.

“Yeah, Jimin, everything okay?”

“Seeing how everyone has reacted to her, I agree that she is a mate but I want to be honest that I haven’t had any time for my Alpha to respond to her. Actually, to be transparent, he backs away whenever she is close. I don’t know why.”

Jimin looks down and picks at the tablecloth until a Hobi takes hold of his hand. “Jimin, you were close with our last playmate and were the first of us to connect with her on a deeper level of friendship. She broke that trust with you,” Hobi begins.

“I am sure that I was not the only one who was shocked that you wanted a new playmate out here. I didn’t say anything because I figured you were trying to rebound.

However, rebounding by finding a new friend is different than finding a new mate. It will be difficult for you and some of our other mates because very few of us have had any experience outside of the pack.”

“Minie,” Jungkook chimes in. “I know you are nervous, and you keep trying to find a way to be around her but not at the same time, which is okay. But you need to make sure to listen to yourself and your Alpha. It is okay if you are not jumping into it head first like some of us are.”

“Hobi and Kook are right, Jimin.” Namjoon finally speaks up. This goes for everyone. We will all take this at a comfortable pace for us and, more importantly, for her. Manager-nim reminded me that she has no way of knowing what is going on and is most likely fighting her instincts because we are already a pack.”

“Remember how long it took us to convince Kook he wasn’t a toy? Or how Taehyung did not open up fully until after Jimin finally took it into his own hands?”

“She is gonna be like that.” Seokjin states, gaining everyone’s attention. “We need to watch ourselves. Some of us are more instinctually driven, but that could drive her away.”

“With that being said… does anyone have any suggestions?” questions Namjoon.

“Yoongi will end up being her safe space, I think.” Taehyung comments more to himself than to anyone.

Hobi shifts in his seat, remembering how self-conscious you were in the van before he speaks up, “She reminds me of myself. She doesn’t have a good self-image. We should each spend time with her. Show her who we are off-stage, as a pack, as mates with each other, and encourage her to join in.”

“While I think that is a good idea, she won’t join in,” Jungkook interjects. “She wouldn’t ask for a bottle of water for the worry of taking from the pack, how will she accept cuddle time or scenting?”

“True, and besides that, how are we gonna keep her around for us to interact with to even prove anything to anyone,” whines Jimin. “This is so complicated.”

“Six to eight weeks! You have to be kidding. You expect me not to be using my wrist for upwards of eight weeks? What about work? Can I shower? What about chores?” You loudly speak to Dr. Blackwell in response to her diagnosis of a hairline fracture of your wrist.

Yoongi’s ears are flat at either your yelling or the feeling of failure. His tail had curled around his own waist during the examination, and your pain levels tinted your scent with mold.

Ever remaining calm, Dr. Blackwell continues, “It would be best if you sought help during that time,” looking at Yoongi, “and since you have a respectable pack responsible for the injury there should be nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Mr. Min.”

Yoongi nods with an almost blank face as he tries to hide his disappointment in himself. Internally, scolding himself for breaking his mate during their first meeting.

“Mr. Min, I think it would be best to get your Prime Alpha to discuss anything further,” Dr. Blackwell instructs.

Looking briefly at you while you are looking at the floor, cradling your wrist, Yoongi leaves the guest room, quickly seeking out his pack.

“Miss Y/n, have you dealt with hybrids?”

“Yes, my family pack, as Bangtan puts it, consists of a beta fox and omega munchkin, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I see. That makes sense. You were the Alpha in your pack and that is why you don’t understand what is happening around you.”

Snapping your head up, you look at the doctor. “What do you mean?”

Taking a tentative step forward, Dr. Blackwell places a hand on your shoulder, “It isn’t my place to say anything more than I already have. Just take a moment to think back to what you have learned about hybrids, and be open to the pack around in the next coming weeks.”

“Why would I be around them for weeks?”

Yoongi’s scent hits the dining room before he enters. All eyes are on the door as he comes in with his head hung low. He looks around the table with a frown on his face, and he mumbles, “Broke mate.”

Jin, being the closest to him, reaches out and pulls him to sit on his lap. Being Yoongi’s only hyung, Yoongi goes willingly and tucks his nose into Jin’s neck, “Hyung, I broke mate.”

“Yoon, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. It was strictly an accident,” Jin whispers while rubbing soothing circles on his back. The pack pushes out calming scents into the room.

“Yoongi-hyun, can you tell us what the doctor said?” asks Jungkook.

“Broke wrist. Weeks healing. Need Pack Alpha.”

“Joon, go talk with Miss Y/n and the doctor. Get things figured out. We will take care of Yoongi,” Jin instructs, subtly pulling the elder card again.

“Yoongi, you have done great, and I am sure she doesn’t blame you,” Namjoon says as he walks to the hall, stopping. He looks back to the table. “Kookie, come with me, please. From how the scents are coming down the hall, we might need your tact at calming her down.”

A knock on the wall gains your attention. You see a toothy smile shine at you before he comes bounding over and joins you on the bed. His enthusiasm takes you back, then giggle as he lays his head on your lap, grabbing your left hand to rest on his hair.

“Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable,” you say, smiling as you scratch softly on his hair.

“Are you still in pain?” he asks as his eyes close at the soothing feeling of your fingers.

“No, Dr. Blackwell gave me something for that, and it kicked in a few minutes ago. Though it’s going to be painful for a while,” you inform. Looking up, Namjoon stands next to the doctor with a sweet smile.

“Dr. Blackwell, can you explain the situation please?”

Nodding, she turns to the Prime Alpha, “Mr. Kim, Miss Y/n has what I suspect is a hairline fracture. To be certain, I would need to take her to the local hospital but given your situation that would not be a very easy task.”

“I can say with certainty that be it a hairline fracture or a severe sprain, she will have to wear a brace and not use her wrist for six to eight weeks.”

At the reminder of the weeks of difficulty that will come, your scent turns watery as worry creeps into your mind.

“As you all know, I am both a hybrid and a human doctor which brings me to the next issue at hand. While Miss Y/n is kind of heart and forgives Mr. Min of any wrongdoings, Mr. Min, according to the hybrid culture, is responsible for her recovery.”

“Wait, my recovery? I thought it was just to get me to see you?” Your eyes bounce between the three others in the room.

“That is correct, and as Prime Alpha of his bonded pack, we will provide for her over the next eight weeks. We have the space, the means, and the power to do so, Dr. Blackwell.” Namjoon says, holding eye contact with you. His voice gave no room for argument.

“Prime Alpha Sir, you… the pack… my work… how?”

“Not to interrupt, but I will excuse myself as this is now a pack matter. Keep that brace on as much as possible. I will leave my report with notes for your employer explaining your health situation and a vial of your pain medications on the dining room table.” Dr. Blackwell says as she gathers her things and bows, leaving the room.

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is right. This is a pack matter now and I think speaking with everyone together would be the best idea. If you would join us, we could talk about what to do next?”

“Umm, yeah. We can do that. I can do that.”

Moving to stand, Jungkook moves out of the way and holds your good hand, leading you toward the living room where the pack is now gathered.

Seokjin and Yoongi are on the medium couch, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok are on the long couch, and the only open seat is a loveseat.

You move to sit on the loveseat only to have Jungkook pull you to the couch where Seokjin and Yoongi are. “Jin-Hyung, can we sit there with Yoongi?”

Noticing that Yoongi gets stiff at the question, you say, “No, no, that is okay. I think Yoongi has had enough of me. I can sit somewhere else.” However, not only does Jungkook not let go of your hand, but a black tail finds its way around your thigh.

“Sure thing, I will sit with Namjoon.” Seokjin smiles and moves to sit with his Prime Alpha on the smallest couch.

Next thing you know, you are sandwiched between the bunny and jaguar. Yoongi is on your right, his tail still wrapped around your thigh, with the tip sliding up and down almost absentmindedly. Jungkook is on your left, still holding your hand and resting his head on your shoulder.

Your body relaxes as you lean back on the couch, looking around the room. Mind making jokes about having a fur leash again despite Yoongi not looking at you since you entered the room and how you seem to have become a bunny pillow. After some thought, you realize that you don’t actually mind either action.

Someone clearing their throat pulls you from your thoughts. Looking towards the loveseat, you see Namjoon sit up straighter and take on a look that clearly shows that it is the Prime Alpha talking and not the cute, funny Namjoon you have seen clips of on Instagram.

“Bangtan pack, Miss Y/n has a hairline fracture of her right wrist,” at this information, a collective hiss of sympathetic pain comes from the other members.

“She will be required to wear that brace and limit her use of that hand for the next six to eight weeks. This brings up some causes of concern for Miss Y/n.”

Namjoon looks at you to continue, “Umm… well I am right-hand dominant so doing pretty much anything is going to be complicated. I only have about four days of sick pay saved up right now. So, going back to work will be a hurdle all on its own, not to mention doing any kind of chores or cooking.”

Your eyes wander across the group as you speak. They all look at you like you are speaking something other than English or Korean. When your eyes come to a stop on Yoongi, he is finally looking at you with his eyes now a deep brown.

“Y/n, stay with us,” Yoongi states, not asking. “I am a respectable Alpha Jaguar and it is my honor to care for you back to health. My Alpha already told you outside that he would keep you safe until you are healed. I am here for the long haul.”

Your eyes widen at his declaration, and your mind blanks on what to say or how to respond.

From your other side, Jungkook cuddles into your side, his nose nudging your neck softly, “We all will be here for the long haul.”

“They are right, you know. We are a bonded pack of mates and we would love to have you stay here with us so that we can take care of you,” Hoseok adds.

Breaking eye contact with Yoongi, you took to Hoseok as he and the others on that couch smiled genuinely. “What about my job? I cannot leave my work. I have to pay for my flat and food and stuff.”

“Y/n,” your head snaps to the Prime Alpha, “is it okay if we call you Y/n?”

Nodding, you turn your body to face him directly. Your left hand, still holding Jungkook’s, is gripping tightly, trying to ground yourself.

At your agreement, the Prime Alpha smiles, showing off dimples as he continues, “I figured that you would worry about a few things like that.”

“The room you met with the doctor in is yours while you stay here with us… at the pack house. When we say that we will take care of you, we mean it. We will cover all your expenses; it’s not like we lack the funds to care for anyone. Lastly, in order to keep a job to cover your everyday expenses, such as your flat, cell phone, etc., going, I have a proposition for you.”

Holding your breath, your eyes wide at everything he has said so far, you gulp, “What is your proposition, Prime Alpha Sir?”

“Become our playmate.”

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nervoushottee · 2 days

Text

More | John Price x Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re stressed out of your mind and John knows exactly what you need to relax

Warnings: Explicit 18+, just sex, just porn little plot, you’re getting fucked from the back babes

Notes: Y’all this is literally a pattern. I’m ovulating… I’ve been reading a lot of 141 fanfiction and I just needed to write about my big man Price. Enjoy hottees

*this is unedited and probably doesn’t make any sense. Sorry not sorry*

————————————————————————

“Fuck John-” you mutter out. You can hardly hear yourself with how loud and filthy he’s fucking into you. Your brain fuzzy, all the contents of worry and stress slowly easing out of you with each thrust.

Your cheek pressed against the soft sheets of his bed, your hands placed on each side of you as your fingers softly curl into the linen. You back arched as your ass hits against his lower stomach and pelvis. His thick cock making your insides clench when he hits that certain spot. You don’t even notice the small amount of drool slipping out of your mouth onto the mattress.

“This is all you needed isn’t it? Just need me to fuck the stress out of that pretty head of yours. My sweet girl, fucking look at you.” John explains. You whine at his words, clenching at the way he calls you his sweet girl. You were, you were his good girl. His. His. His.

Hours before, you were stressed out of your mind with everything that had been happening. You couldn’t even imagine how John manages to handle everything with being Captain. The small amount of work compared to his big load made you feel like shit for complaining, stressing and crying over it to your lover. But you should’ve know better, because John Price would never think your stressors were lesser than his.

You were his world, his everything. If you asked him to jump, he would ask how high. If you need ice cream that was only made in Italy, he would be on the next flight out. If you need comfort from your stressors, he is going to give it to you. And he thought the best way to give it to you this time to fuck your brain dumb.

“It’s been a while since I’ve fucked you like this love.” The sound of his voice grounding you from your haze. His hands sliding against your ass, gripping softly before releasing. He wasn’t wrong. Usually, your sexual rendezvous were soft, intimate and saccharine. An intense love shared between you two after a long day on base. Slow and pleasurable that you loved all the same. But when the was time for this, you loved every minute of it.

“More.” you whine into the sheets. Your words were muffled, but you knew John heard you all the same. You feel his dick slow down inside of you, causing you to whimper, feeling the weight of John’s chest against your back. “You sure love?” he whispers against your ear. You push your ass against him, ushering him to move. Wiggling and making an effort to show him you wanted more. You hear him groan against your ear, peppering kisses down your neck.

“Yes sir. Please.”

The last bit of contact you got from him was a soft kiss against your shoulder before he got back into his position and started to ram into you. This time at a deafening pace than before.

You gasp at the sudden change of pace and cry out loudly. Fuck this feels so good. The way he pushes his thickness in and out of you so quickly. Making you feel winded, numb and so fucking blissful.

“Fucking love when you talk to me like that. My good fucking girl. You’re so good to me, letting me fuck you like this.” You feel your lips turn up into a small smile as you grip the sheets tightly into your hands. You knew your words would put him over the edge like this. He’s always calm and collected, always catering to your needs and wants. But sometimes, most times, you wanted him to let loose. To go all the way with you, and lose himself. He didn’t always need to be this perfect captain he tries so hard to be. He was perfect in every way to you. But you wanted him to make you his, to unwrap his fantasies on to you and let you take care of him.

His hands gripping your ass firmly, moving you so you can match his thrusts. He wasn’t stopping his rhythm. If anything he was going even faster, chasing his own pleasure as you simply take what he gives you. “Thank you sir- thank you, please don’t stop- please.”you cry out. You hear him chuckle at your words.

“Oh love, I’m just getting started.”

#captain john price x reader #john price imagine #john price x reader #john price cod #john price smut #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain price #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod fic #cod price #price smut #price mw2 #price x reader #john price #captain jo

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ghouljams · 2 days

Note

may we have some more fallout ghost pwease 🥺

He always has that damn radio on. Always humming along in that scarred rasp to whatever is playing. For a man that seems to thrive on his silent approach he never seems to be without noise. Even when you're camped at the top of a hill, holding steady as he uses you for a tripod, the radio is just turned down. Just loud enough that you and Ghost can hear it. It's a wonder you aren't besieged by every creature in the wasteland while you're out wandering the Mojave with him.

You want to tell him to shut the damn thing, but you're not talking to Ghost right now. Not after the branding incident. If it bothers him he doesn't show it, singing along to the radio as he cleans his guns and counts his caps.

He hands you a pistol and you immediately cock the hammer to aim at him. He doesn't even look at you, just reaches for the box of rifle rounds he keeps, carefully counting each one as you sit resolute. "Why don't you put that down before you hurt someone," He tells you, the rough timber of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hurt you, you mean." You just have to squeeze the trigger and it'll be over. You'll still have his initials on your ass, but at least they won't be traced back to anyone. You've put down ferals before, you can put Ghost down. Hell, you've stared down deathclaws before (granted that was through binoculars from a safe distance) so it should be nothing to kill a man.

"You're not gonna shoot me," Ghost grunts, "or else you would'a done it already." He turns to look at you, and it's different seeing his eyes on the other side of the gun. The inky depths of them stare you down, challenge your resolve. He holds his hand out for the gun to be returned and after a moment's hesitation you uncock the hammer and settle it in your lap.

You stare down the cold metal. Maybe you're not as tough as you thought you were, not as cut out for the wasteland as you'd hoped. Ghost doesn't try to take it from you.

"Different killin' 'em in cold blood, eh love." Ghost hums and you nod, "We'll get ya there." You feel something pull in your neck with how quickly you turn to look at him. His mask shifts, brows raising. The lines beside his eyes deepen. "You didn't think I'd let you keep freeloadin' off me, did ya?"

Freeloading? Freeloading! Is that what he thought sex on demand was? Freeloading your branded ass. You're not talking to him, you shouldn't have started again in the first place. Ghost chuckles and goes back to his work.

"You are a wonder," Even if you can't see it, the smile in his voice is unmistakable. Bastard.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #fallout au

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fan-goddess · 21 hours

Note

can you hotd characters (mostly alicent and rhaenrya) when the reader almost passes in child birth? thank youuuu :3

A/N: Yep can do! I’ve never given birth, gotten pregnant nor seen anything resembling child birth apart from the Aemma scene in HOTD so I hope I did this justice!? Sorry this has taken so long!

Character Roll Call: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Aemond and Jacaerys (All romantic love)

Warnings: Child birth, talk of infertility, talk of not able to have children, pregnancy, she/her pronouns used in some places for reader, talk of death during childbirth, talk about smut but no smut, dirty talk, a most likely inaccurate childbirth telling, graphic detailing of blood and gore, this is not proofread! (if I miss any please let me know in a way you’re most comfortable!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

It was not the typical marriage you and your husband shared. For whilst you had never had a particular fondness for goose, he understood that and went after his own interest in tasting the variety the world provided him with.

So while he was off exploring, you were in the chambers of the heir of the realm. Showing her your devotion in the most unexpected of ways.

Yet soon, after nearly two years of marriage with no children, people were beginning to become suspicious of your womb. More specifically, your husband’s own family. There was talk of them already arranging a second marriage for him as your womb was supposedly infertile. So after a talk with him, you and your husband for a whole of three months, with the help of Rhaenyra. And just when you thought your efforts were unsuccessful, the maester greeted you with a smile, and told you you were with child.

Your lover took the news surprisingly well, as Rhaenyra spent all hours of the day with you comparing possible names for the baby. Your husband had done his part in this game. Now, you and Nyra could spend your days eating the cake and kissing the days away. Acting oblivious to the hateful world surrounding the two three of you.

“What about Aurion?” Nyra suggests, a lazy smile on her lips as she places a fork with a large chunk of vanilla cake on the end between your lips.

“Hmmmmm” You hum, smiling in thought. “Perhaps let’s not raise more suspicions than we’d like my darling. How about something not so Valyrian?”

She laughs, and yet agrees with you with her smile turning strained and sad. Her hand reaches for your own instinctively and you quickly move to grab it and squeeze it tight. “Alright alright! What about Rhys? Ivan? Those are some more boring names!”

You laugh, and yet make sure to note them down somewhere in your head. You discuss names of girls also, just in case. Yet months later as you sat screaming your heart out on the birthing bed, those names disappeared as pain became all you know.

“You must push my lady! The baby is trapped you must push!” One of the ladies in waiting says as she positions herself by your bottom half.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING PUSH!” You scream, sweat dripping down your face as your eyes screw shut. Your voice loud as the pain spreads further through you, till eventually you feel it all over.

Soon, the pain that blooms all over becomes numbing. Especially, when you feel your eyes becoming heavy, eventually shutting so all you see is black and the world becomes silent.

“What is happening?!” Rhaenyra screams, her face becoming pale as memories of her mother come flooding to her head. “What is happening to her?!”

“The lady is haemorrhaging!” One of the maesters yells, a multitude of rags of all sorts in his hands as he attempts to stop the blood from further dripping onto the floor. The babe that had quite literally fallen out of your whilst you had fallen unconscious was quickly taken away by the ladies in waiting to be cleaned and attended to. So now, all focus was on keeping you alive. By order of the future Queen of Westeros.

It feels as thought it had taken hours to stop the bleeding. Yet that meant nothing till Rhaenyra who waited anxiously by your side with your hand in her own. Her fingers poised by your pulse so she can reassure herself that you were truly living beside her and not dead like her mother.

By the time you had finally begun to rouse from your deep slumber, the day had turned to night. And all those in the room were exhausted from the effort it took. The maesters in particular, who knew that if they allowed themselves to slack, the princess would soon be upon them with the fury of the dragons.

“My love….” Rhaenyra whispered, at this point uncaring of the multiple people in that room who’d scuttle themselves to her father and the hand at the slightest chance of a scandal. “Do you hurt?”

“As much as childbirth allows me to be in…” You laugh, yet wincing as soon as your body moves. “I am glad you were here… i fear if you weren’t-“

“Do not speak of such things!” Rhaenyra begs, her hands clutching your own tightly as if she was fearful you would drop dead. “I forbid it!”

“Do you say that as my future queen or as my friend?” You murmur, both knowing the true meaning of the word.

“I say that as both..” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing the top of your head as one of the ladies in waiting comes in holding the bundle containing your baby.

“It’s a daughter, my lady.” She says, walking over and placing her in your arms.

“She’s beautiful…” you can’t help but say, brushing away one of her curls from her eyes. You can feel Rhaenyras eyes on you, and so you take her hand and somehow manage to pull her closer.

“I wish to name her Arya.” You firmly say, locking eyes with your daughter who begins to cry in hunger.

“Beautiful…” Rhaenyra says, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of you beginning to breastfeed your child.

Alicent Hightower:

Even while Alicent was married to the king, yours and hers unique relationship had never once wavered. When Alicent had her children with the king, who did not even enter the room when the time of birth came, it was you who held her hand in place of her mother’s, and murmured soft words of encouragement and affirmation into her ears.

While you had your own, even though your mother was there to be by your side as a place of comfort, it was only Alicent name that sprung from your lips. Begging for her to come closer so you can hold her hand and beg her for mercy and encouragements.

Most recently, your third pregnancy had been said by the maesters to be the most difficult one yet. Pain was all you knew through those last few months. Pain in your legs from when you were forced to walk to the dining hall. Pain in your belly from where not only did the baby insist on kicking but also from the cramps the maesters insisted did not need to be further looked at.

Yet Alicent was always close by ready to lend a helping hand whenever the moment allowed her too. According to her, she still has the old treatment the maesters had prescribed her with just in case she fell pregnant again after Daeron.

“You… my utter darling, are my world!” You moaned, eyes shut closed as Alicent carefully massaged the soothing ointment into the base of your feet. She continues to help whenever she can. The ointments and herbs she providing you with being much better than anything the dreading maesters could’ve ever given you.

Yet like most treatments, the effectiveness wore off. Soon, not even the most obscure of medicines would work on you. Pain was always lingering in every part of your body. Even in places you had no idea were on your body.

“I just want this babe out of me!” You groan one night while Alicent once again attempts to stop your pain using this time a supposed miracle working ointments from Lys. “Nothing is fucking working!”

“Well complaining won’t solve anything!” Alicent attempts to jest, though quickly haults any other further attempt after a harsh glare worthy enough to rival the Strangers is sent hastily her way. “Perhaps it is the gods way of telling you how strong you are for having this child? A way to tell you how powerful your son will no doubt be in the future?”

“I would not care if I was to birth a dragon for gods sakes I only with for it to come out of me so I can no longer feel so fucking horrible!” You groan, “I have already told my lord husband that this shall be my last time on that fucking bed! If he even brings his cock within inches of me it’s being torn off his body and fed to your children’s dragons my love!”

“Oh hush now!” Alicent scows, a rare bout of anger coming about her. “The gods have their meanings and their ways! Though I for once shall agree with you. You will be having three beautiful children my love, and that is all you need. Perhaps you could give birth to a daughter and we can betroth her to Aemond?”

“Perhaps…”

By the time the ninth moon has passed, it is quick to say that you were very much serious about this being your last child.

“GET THE FUCKING CHILD OUT OF ME!” You scream, the maesters wincing at the volume rivalling that of a child being born. Something your own child it seems is refusing to let happen. “RIP IT OUT IF MUST BUT IF I DIE I SHALL HAUNT THIS KEEP FOREVER MORE!”

“There shall be no talk of dying on this bed from you!” Alicent yells, her grip on your hands almost as tight as your hand on hers.

The maesters voices cutting through though as they announce how they can see the babes head. Meaning to much your relief the pain will hopefully be soon over and you can hold the thing that’s been hurting you for nearly nine moons in your arms to give it a stern talking off.

You make sure to push hard when the maesters tell you too, even pushing when they don’t so you could hopefully get the babe out quicker. But even when you feel the babe quite literally fall out of you and hear its cries, the maesters make their own cries far more audible.

“Alicent what is happening?!” You ask, feeling what feels like warm liquid gushing from your lower half. Only she does not respond. Only turning paler than the sheets that with horror, you realise are turning a deep red from blood. Your blood.

And It only turns worse when you realise just how faint you feel. A once iron grip you had on Alicents hand turning weak and feeble as your eyes slowly begin shutting.

It’s all a blur when you feel your body waking. Yet still your eyes have not grown enough strength to open, so it’s with great horror you realise you are still conscious but are practically unable to move. You are alive but it is as if your body is dead.

You can hear Alicent beg for your sake. And you realise with your heart beating frantically in your chest that you can also hear her hushing a baby you had not realised was crying this whole time. Your baby.

“Your mother is sleeping now…” You can hear her say, tears building in your eyes when you hear how damaged her voice sounds. “She is strong, your mother. She will wake and see what a beautiful baby boy she has waiting for her… it won’t be long now. I promise.”

You try as hard as you can to open your eyes, yet your attempts prove to be impossible. Yet somehow, you manage to utter two words to your lover while your lower half screams in pain at you.

“Thank you…”

Daemon Targaryen:

It was no surprise to anyone when after a few mere moons after your marriage to the rogue Prince Daemon, you were announcing you were pregnant with his child.

The king had said his congratulations and announced a feast in his nephew or nieces name, and even Daemon had to admit the whole ceremony was wonderful.

Yet like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. The announcement of the first babe of the rogue prince turned sour as news quickly spread about how much pain you were in from them.

The babe refused to let you rest for even a second. All it did was kick and kick, and make you feel shitter than any other possible ailment in the world. You almost felt like having a conversation with the stranger after one too many bouts of particularly bad spells.

“You must let your muña rest ñuha trēsy… let ñuha jorrāelagon rest…” Daemon murmurs one night against the swollen bulge of your stomach. The warmth his dragon like body providing you with being possibly the best thing he’s given you since the day you married him.

“You know I do not understand a single thing you say in that tongue of yours…” You say, eyes closed as you relish in the lack of kicking and blinding pain. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was at least obvious now that your child had chosen favourites.

“Just because you cannot understand something does not mean you cannot understand the beauty of it.” Daemon murmurs, his voice gentle and nurturing as he continues attempting to soothe you.

His words to others would be considered strange and out of character. But as you’ve come to realise over the time of your betrothal and marriage, even though that shared time has lasted around only a year, you know deep down beneath the hardened dragon scale skin of his is a heart that bears solely for the life of those he loves. The latest addition being of course the babe of his own blood nestled in your belly.

It was such a lovely moment, and yet it seemed that would be the last of its kind the rest of the time your babe was steadily growing inside. The more time passed the less Daemons unusually warm body worked in soothing your unrelenting aches and pains.

“Are you okay ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asks one evening, his brows furrowed in what has become a near constant state of stress and worry for you. For is has now nearly been a full nine moons of pregnancy, and with that, it means the babe will hopefully be born.

“Unless you can get this child out of me with no pain,” You grunt, mentally cursing Daemons cock for being what it was. “Then I suggest you leave me be and allow me to wallow with the seed you yourself placed within me!”

For the first time in a while, Daemons worried stricken face turns cheery as he laughs at the familiar wit of yours that helped him to fall in love with you in the first place. The rest of the day is filled with similar circumstances, as while the babe continues to make your days a misery, Daemon is right by your side never ever venturing too far away from you.

You suppose it is why he insisted on being by your side when two days pass and you were on the birthing bed, his hand locked firmly in yours while your screams echo off the walls. You swear you can feel your cunt tear and drip with blood, yet with how much you screamed you honestly couldn’t be able to hear it.

“Please Daemon!” You beg, a multitude of tears running down your face. “Please make it stop!”

“It’ll be over soon ñuha jorrāelagon…” Daemon tries to comfort you with soft words and a tight reassuring grip, and yet his face clear as day is struck with fear and nervousness.

“You said that hours ago Daemon!” You sob, screaming even more as you feel the dragon spawn within you break even more of your innards. “I just want it out!”

“You will my love you will! You are strong and brave and a fighter! You will not die today do you hear me!?”

Daemons hands envelope the sides of your head to force you to look and him, and yet he’s utterly horrified when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hand that was once clutching his shirt for dear life falls limply by your side.

Daemons words reach no bounds as he insults the maesters and common people alike, swearing if his wife was to die then all shall die with her. So even in the seven hells his wife can make sure she achieves the justice she deserves.

Yet it somehow enrages him further when by the next hour, the maesters have managed to successfully take out the babe from within you, and present it to him as his first born, whilst other maesters make quick work of stemming the bleeding and disposing of the evidence.

Daemons eyes watche as a wet nurse moves to take his son into her arms and takes him into another room so she can clean his son, and it’s not until they’ve left does he begin to shout.

“IS THAT ALL IT TOOK? MY WIFE WAS SCREAMING IN AGONY ON THE BED, BLOOD POURING OUT, AND YET IT IS ONLY WHEN YOUR LIVES ARE THREATENED DO YOU HELP HER?!” He yells, his hand clutching the hilt of dark sister as a reminder that he has the upper hand. He’s the prince of the realm. The rogue Prince. If he wanted to kill people then he will fucking kill someone.

The maesters faces turn ashen as they stand there, practically shaking as they fear for their lives. Daemon is almost tempted to actually kill them. To send a message that no one fucks around with the rogue princes wife. That is however, until he hears a stir behind him and feels a familiarly soft hand clutch his own that previously had clutched dark sister.

“My love!” Daemon breathes, his face one of pure joy as he drops the sword hastily and moves to clutch your still weak body in his arms. “I was so worried!”

“What have you done with my Daemon?” He can hear you say, the laughter in your tone surprising considering what had just happened.

“Don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon, he was here a few moments ago, about to kill some pathetic fucking maesters…” Daemon begins, turning with a dark glare when he sees the said maesters still standing where they were before in fear. “But I suggest they scarper before dark sister becomes hungry for rat blood once more!”

This time, Daemon doesn’t turn back to watch them all practically run from the room. Not when there is someone in front of him so much more important.

“Where are they?” You say, your movements still sluggish as you wince while trying to turn your body to look around the room.

“Where is who ñuha jorrāelagon?” Daemon asks, preoccupied with finding the cup of milk of the poppy one of the maesters had said was somewhere in the room. A hum of satisfaction slipping his lips when he eventually sees it and grabs it, before placing it by your lips to try and force you to drink it.

“Where’s our baby?” You murmur, wincing again when the bitter taste of the drink runs down your throat. “I want to see them!”

“I will get him for you jorrāelagon.” Daemon says, moving to the direction of where the wet nurse had taken his son too. When he does find her, he does not care for whatever she has to say. Instead just moving to take the boy in his arms and walk back to you, who’s already sat up through the pain ready to see your son.

“Oh Daemon…” You breath, your eyes focused solely on the babe in his arms. “He’s beautiful…”

“He takes after you…” Daemon murmurs back. A soft smile on his face as he moves the boy into your arms. “What shall we name him my love?”

“What about Aenor? First of his name…”

“I love it…” Daemon murmurs, kissing the top of your sweat soaked head and moving to perch against the edge of the bed transfixed by the holy sight in front of him. “I love you…”

Aemond Targaryen:

Your husband wasn’t anything except attentive. Every moment after finding out you were with child he spent within meters of yourself. Even when you slept, his hand was always placed on your stomach.

“I would never allow myself to live if you were hurt ñuha vēzos.” Aemond would murmur against your skin, amongst other Valyrian words this time against the curve of your slowly swelling belly. Each one sending your skin further and further aflame with desire and love for your husband.

The whole pregnancy though, for the most of it, was smooth and ordinary. The baby had begun to kick a little after the fifth moon of your pregnancy, and Aemond was eager to experience every part of it. Yet when you’d passed the eighth moon, that was when everything began to turn on its head.

Pain was blooming in your stomach nearly everyday, and even with the maesters having to forcibly pour milk of the poppy down your throat, you had resisted firmly, not wanting the babies health to be put as such risk especially so close to the due date. Especially when you have been in the presence of the king, who openly abused the opioid near daily.

Yet the maesters with stern eyes and unwavering faces, claimed that if anything, it was the pain inside you that would risk the babies health. So whilst you wished pain on the maesters, they stood there stiffly with a near full to the brim cup of the drink. They watched every time you were needed to drink it. Even going as far as to make you open your mouth wide to make sure you weren’t resisting.

Aemond though like he had done so earlier in your pregnancy, was never as far as an arms reach. He never said anything to maesters face to face, yet he certainly did not hide his anger from you when the two of you would lay in bed holding one another in a close embrace.

“If it weren’t for the babe, I’d strike them where they stand…” He’d begun to murmur. Starting his now usual evening moan about how according to him, they weren’t good enough to care for his pregnant wife. Sometimes it’s sad as you realise how he at his lowest points believes even he is not good enough for you.

“Don’t let that stop you…” You indiscreetly murmur back, a clear glare on your face as you try to drink something to wash away the bitter taste of milk of the poppy.

“Dont you tempt me now ñuha vēzos… I very much can and will make my way to wherever those men lie and slaughter them before it’s time to break fast tomorrow.” Aemond chuckles, a comforting hand on your stomach where near instantly you can feel the babe kick twice. As if the babe was eager to say hello to its father.

“That’s right ñuha valītsos… kepa is here…” Aemond murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your very spine. If you weren’t already eight moons pregnant, you very well would be eager to take him right at this moment and take his seed deep inside till it takes root.

“You are getting distracted valītsos…” Aemond says, smirking at the dark blush that spreads on your face. It matters not how long you’ve been married to Aemond for, since he’ll always manage to find a way to fluster him. You suppose it’s as fun for him as it is for you to fluster him. Though you suppose by doing that is how you ended up in this position in the first place…

“How can I not, when theres such a beautiful man in front of me?” You say, grinning triumphantly when Aemonds own face turns a light pink. It’s not as dark as your own, but even seeing Aemond blush without him trying to hide himself away counts as a win to you.

The two of you revel in the rare soft moment between you both, and it’s not long before you both fall asleep holding each other.

It felt so perfect at that moment, as all the previous worries about the babe swept away. The both of you honestly didn’t think the whole ordeal could get worse. That is however, until your waters broke and you were lying on the birthing bed. Your screams breaking Aemonds heart as he tries his best to comfort you to the best of his ability.

Yet his controlled anger and frustration comes out in waves as your screams continue further and further into the day, and the maesters it seems are no further to helping you than from when they started.

Aemond withholds every single urge to kill them for their insolence for your sake, given that they are supposedly they best men available to help bring his and your child into the world. Though when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body go limp after attempting to push the babe out again per the maesters instructions, all hell broke loose there and then.

“What have you done!?” Aemond yells, his voice whilst commanding also torn with how scared he feels at that moment. His uncles wife, and his grandsires wives had died in childbirth attempting to bring a child into the world. He cannot have such a thing happen to you.

“You are meant to help my wife not fucking kill her! If she is to die today then so shall all of you! Your blood shall stain these walls if she dies do you all understand!” He yells, tears brimming in his eyes from how emotional he currently feels. Aemond refuses to let go of you hand as the maesters scurry around like rats to appease him.

It’s not long before the sound of a babes cry brings him from his sorrowful thoughts.

“It’s a daughter my Prince.” One of the maesters says, before handing her off to a nearby maid presumably to go clean her off of all of your blood and other bodily fluids Aemond most certainly does not wish to be thinking of right now.

Instead, Aemond chooses to grab a lone damp cloth free from any uncleanliness, and carefully uses it to wipe away the sweat on your face. Yet even with all of that Aemond still believes you to be as beautiful as when he first ever saw you.

The sound of your blood onto the floor that Aemond had tried to ignore for his own sake earlier finally stops, and he’s grateful that the maid comes back with his daughter then so he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

“I will give the baby to a wetnurse my Prince for her first feed.” The maid begins to say, about to walk away. That is however before she feels the princes hand clutching tightly on her shoulder forbidding her to leave.

“She will feed from her mother.” Aemond says firmly, moving to take his daughter away from the silly woman’s grasp. “‘Twas a decision me and my wife made and you shall respect that. Now leave.”

The maid stands there a moment surprised, even looking to the maesters for guidance in the situation. But when Aemond looks up at them with a cold glare on his face and a sneer on his lips, both the maesters and the maid make quick work on leaving the Prince with his daughter in his arms and his unconscious wife by his side.

He does not know how long it is till you finally begin to stir, and yet it does not matter. All that does matter is that you woke at all.

“How are you feel ñuha vēzos?” Aemond murmurs, his daughter in one arm as in the other he holds the cup holding the milk of the poppy he makes you drink. Making sure you don’t waste a drop.

“Like I’ve given birth…” You simply say, suddenly focusing on the baby in Aemonds arms. “Is that-“

“Yes ñuha vēzos. This is our daughter.”

Aemonds hands her to you, and when she begins to stir it’s almost instantly you bring down your dress and place her near your breast. Hissing slightly as she begins to immediately nurse from it.

“She’s beautiful.” You find yourself saying, refusing to take your eyes from her. “She looks like you sweet husband.”

“She may look like me but I believe she has her mother’s beauty.” Aemond says, moving to hold your hand in his. “What shall we name her my love?”

“What about Elaenor?”

“It’s perfect…” Aemond says, kissing the top of your head. “She’s perfect…”

Jacaerys Velaryon:

It appears Jacaerys was ever as loyal as they say. As even after being married in an arranged fashion, and finding out you were pregnant with his child after consummating the marriage, his presence was never far from you.

When in the middle of the night sickness plagued your body, it was Jace who was right there next to you with a bucket in hand. Even going as far as to hold your hair back with his hand so no sick could ruin it.

“Is this what it is like for all women?” Jace asks, attempting to smooth you while you once again throw your dinner up into a bucket, groaning whilst you do so.

“Only the lucky…” You moan, about to turn to look at your husband before you find yourself immediately needing to throw up again.

At first, it was strange to you to have a husband be so close and eager to be by up side, given the stories that your mother had told you. Yet now, you honestly could not think of your marriage without the little services Jace provides you with.

Whenever you find yourself craving a certain food, no matter how bizarre or disgusting it may seem to him, Jace was always willing to call a maid and inform her to make it for you.

“Thank you husband.” You sigh in delight, chewing on some honey dipped carrots in the comfort of yours and Jaces bed.

“It is no problem my lady.” He says, awkwardly perched by the edge of the bed covers while he watches you eat.

“You can come closer Jace…” You laugh, patting the side of the bed indicating your want to have him closer to you. His warmth comforting. His smile kind. “You have seen me naked before. I do not think you have the ability right now to be shy. Call me by my name Jace. It is only fair since I have been calling you by yours.”

“Of course… wife.” Jace smiles, a strange girlish sounding giggle leaving your lips as he moves himself closer and opens his arms so he can enclose you in them. “Has the babe been bothering you much today?”

“Only as much as usual.” You sigh, choosing to invite his pointed stare in honour of eating another one of your special foods. “Though not as much as I have been eating these.”

“That is good.” He simply says, softly kissing the top of your head as he touches the skin of your arms with his hand. “That is good…” He repeats again more gentler than the last.

The next few months all went smooth as they could go. You were still throwing up in the mornings and some evenings, and experienced some horrible cramps once every few weeks. What was the most difficult and painful thing you had to endure however, was the birth of the babe itself.

It felt like it was ripping out of you. Screams pierced the air as it felt as if the babe was determined to take your insides out with it.

“It hurts!” You cry, holding Jaces hand so hard he has to hide any audible winces in pain, as whilst he is not the most experience man with women, he knew at that moment to not even think about saying his own pain. Not when he could tell his pain was like a mere headache compared to your own.

“It will soon be over!” Jace says, trying to squeeze your hand in an attempt to comfort you and let you know he is here. But with how much pain is flowing through your system he honestly doubts you can feel it right now.

“I just want it out!” You yell, screaming again as the maester intruders you to push. It’s almost like a rhythm, as when the maester tells you to push, you push. And when you push, you scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like that for what feels like hours and hours on end.

Yet soon, it’s finally over, as the maester finally steps away from you holding a crying baby. The maester looks at him, and shows him his crying daughter.

“A daughter my Prince.” The maester says, placing her in Jaces arms. Your husband’s eyes unable to tear away from the smallest child he thinks he’s ever seen. Possibly smaller than Joffrey from when he saw him as a child.

He turns to you to show you with a smile on his face, but that soon disappears when he sees your face.

“My love?” Jace begins, looking worriedly at your pale sweat layered skin. “You do not look well…”

You try to answer, and yet you even with all your strength you cannot even find yourself able to move your lips, your head even.

That though is when Jace turns his own head and sees the frantic moving of all the maesters and ladies in the room. It’s when he hears a most frightening of sounds. The sound of your blood falling and dripping onto the stone floor. It’s almost worse when he sees how deeply stained your dress is by your own blood.

He’s frozen as he stands there, completey horrified by what he’s seeing and hearing and yet he cannot find himself able to move. His daughter still in his arms, only it’s when she begins to fuss and make sound does another lady in waiting take her into her own arms to put her from the room.

The maesters are beginning to yell now. At the ladies in waiting mainly but to each other a handful of times too. They sound too loud. But that may be because Jace hasn’t said a word since you collapsed against a bed. He does not know what it is he should say. He does not know what it is he should do. His mother has insisted he be in the birthing room alone with his wife, and yet here he is standing alone in the middle of it looking like an idiot.

Yet while he’s thinking, it’s like some sort of driven force when he suddenly realises he’s been holding your hand. Your skin feeling cold and damp from sweat, and Jace stays there the entire time holding onto your hand and staring at you face. He commits to memory the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and the feeling of your heartbeat in his hand. He blocks out the sounds of chaos and panic, and chooses to focus on you.

Jacaerys slowly watches the colour bloom back into your face when the maesters finally manage to stem the flow of your blood and keep it inside you. Yet when he sees you open your eyes sluggish and exhausted, he cannot help but have his heart speed in happiness and joy. The smiles may have to come later though.

"My love, how do you feel?" Jace asks, still clutching your hand as he edges himself closer to you.

"Like l've given birth.." You simply say, even smiling as you slowly turn your head to look around the room. "Where is the babe?"

"She is with one of the ladies in the other room, if you wish me to fetch her I shall." He asks, watching as your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in what he can only say in a comedic fashion. Not that he'd dare mention that here though that is.

"We have a daughter…" You say, so silently that he barely even heard you. "Yes. Yes I want to see her!"

"I will go get the lady." Jace says, letting go of your hand for the first time in hours and admittedly as soon as he escapes your sights wipes the thick layer of sweat lingering on his hand on his shirt.

When he arrives back with his daughter in his arms though, he cannot help but smile as he watches your entire face light up at the sight of the babe with what could only be utter awe.

"We did that..." You say, reaching out and immediately rocking the small girl when she's in your arms. "We made her..."

“Yes…” Jace can’t help but agree with you, placing his hand on you as he sits beside you on the bed, watching you as you hold his and your child closely to your breasts. “We made her…”

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aemond x reader #Aegon Targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra targaryen/reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon Targaryen/reader #alicent targaryen #alicent hightower #Alicent Hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower/reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon/reader

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abouttofillhisshoes · 17 hours

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Blurbs you say?? I am thinking thoughts… about matty’s dick in my mouth while he smokes a cigarette <3

This #unedited and sort of shit, but i promised myself to not to obsess over it too much. also i cant not post without a fancy title and banner bc im allergic soz xx

Go down - Matty Healy

A/N: im shit at blurbs, minors do not interact

wc: 1.5k

The door shuts with a loud bang, Mattys footsteps echoing through the foyer. Ridding himself of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch, he sits down next to it, an exasperated groan leaving his lips. His voice was sore, raspy from tonight's gig. Sold out, ten thousand people, all screaming the house down as Matty sang his heart out. Fans went wild as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, leaving all but one buttoned unfastened.

It still was, the fabric now wrinkled and slightly damp from the sweat, clinging to his body. It took everything in you to not jump onto him right at that moment, take him then and there. No, he was tired, eyes shutting as he rolled his head back, resting it onto the edge of the sofa. His voice was low as he spoke.

“Darling?” you hum in acknowledgement, peeking your head around the corner, still trying to tow your shoes off. He waits for you to actually enter the room, a rough hand running through his gelled hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

“Could you pour me some wine?” Despite having been drinking the entire set, Matty always liked a healthy glass of wine when he got home, exhausted and missing your presence. Usually, you would take the time to talk about the show, what the stagehands had fucked up this time et cetera, et cetera. This time, however, you had other things on your mind, and, based on the way his eyes dragged up and down your body as you walked by, he did as well.

You grab two glasses from the marble cupboard, setting them onto the counter. Pouring both of you a generous amount, you check yourself in the reflection of the microwave. Your hair was a bit messy, and your mascara was slightly smudged from dancing, but it didn't bother you.

“Thank you, love.” a grateful look spreads onto his face as he takes a glass from you, smiling. You place a chaste kiss on his lips, wiping a bit of dirt off his face with your free hand. Before you could even move to sit down, his hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you into an awkward kneeling position between his legs, the edge of the sofa digging into your knees. He kisses you like this, setting both your glasses onto a small table, freeing up both hands.

You shift, using his shoulders for leverage, lowering your body onto the floor in front of him.

“What are you up to, mh?” he asks, his filthy smirk making your head spin.

“Could ask you the same thing, undressing in front of an audience.” you mention his little display, thrusting up into air as he danced around, the screams of the crowd only spurring him on. He pretends to look offended, shaking his head in protest.

“It's art.”

“It's insanely hot, is what it is.” you grin, hands settling right onto his belt.

His breath hitches, breathing pattern slightly irregular as you look up at him through your eyelashes, blinking innocently.

A quiet “Oh, fuck me.” leaves his lips, and he coughs, trying to remain composed. That proves more difficult than he thought, especially with you looking at him like that.

“Can I?” you ask, voice dripping like honey. The look on his face when you let things drag on like this was delicious, eyes drooping shut as he groaned your name.

“Shoot me if i ever say no to that question, fucking hell.” That's all you need, your hands making quick work of the black leather belt in front of you, the sound of metal against metal so unbelievably erotic.

Above you, you hear Matty shuffle, hands digging into the pockets of his suit jacket. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he sticks one between his lips, light not far behind. Something stirs in you when he lights it, the soft glow of the flame making him look even more attractive than he already was.

He’s hard against the palm of your hand as you work the buttons of his trousers, pulling them down along with his black boxer-briefs. The cool air makes him groan, a cloud of smoke leaving his parted lips. The smell doesn't take long to fill your senses, so distinctly Matty.

Not in the mood for a tease, his hand finds the thick locks of your hair, threading his fingers through it. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he watches you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning when the taste of him hit your tongue.

He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you take him in, hollowing out your cheeks in that way that makes him lose his mind.

His hand pushes your head down lightly, silently asking for permission. You let him, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, making your gag reflex kick in. Using a trick your friend had taught you back in highschool, you press your thumb between the rest of your fingers, trying to suppress it.

Matty is shameless above you, moaning and groaning whenever you bobbed your head, incredibly pent up and desperate.

Trying again, you let him guide himself deeper into your mouth, his sounds of encouragement spurring you on.

“So fucking good, just- yeahh, thats it, fuck” his words go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure between your legs.

Bobbing your head, you breathe through your nose, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, feeling him twitch in your mouth. His tip leaks salty precum onto your tongue, the smells of cigarettes the only thing you could concentrate on. You look up, your eyes meeting his right as he takes a drag, pushing your head down even further. Again, you sputter, but you don't get off.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, choking on my cock like this.” he groans, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Made for me, weren't you? Perfect mouth, shit.” his rambling lets you know he’s close, hips bucking up into your mouth, your tongue running over the vein on the underside of his cock, pulsing with need.

Taking one last drag, he lets the finished cigarette fall onto the concrete floor behind the sofa, both hands now on your head, fucking his cock into your warm mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations sending curses falling from his lips, the sounds of his movements echoing through the living room.

“I’m not gonna last, fucking- oh god.” he warns you, quickly pulling off him. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows at him and a small smile spreads onto your face.

“When has that ever been an issue?” he laughs, brushing your hair out of your face sweetly. You rub your cheeks against his thigh, eyes set on his weeping erection, desperate for release.

“Now, let me take care of you, okay?” he nods slowly, both his arms spread out on either side of him, letting you have full control. You dive back in, switching from kitten licking the tip to deepthroating him as far as you can go, his gasps of pleasure like music to your ears.

“Jesus, you‘re a fucking wet dream.” he moans, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spills onto your mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His legs shake as you hold your head there, taking everything he gives you, the salty taste of him like heaven.

You stick out your tongue proudly, showing it completely clean. His hands grab your shoulders as fast as they can move, pulling you up and onto his lap. He kisses you, hard, tongue forcing its way into your mouth before you could even react. Groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, his fingers wipe at your cheeks, rubbing off your mascara, which had started to stream down your face.

“You're a temptress, you are.” he grins, kissing you again, softer this time. Rolling your eyes, you use your nails to scratch the back of his head, knowing how much he loved the sensation.

“You didn't even try to resist.” you spit back, giggling at the speed at which he’d pulled you onto him, not even bothering to take his shoes off before plopping onto the sofa.

“I didn't, did I?”

#okay cool #first actual blurb length blurb #proud of myself #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty the 1975 #bfiafl era #matty healy x reader #matty x you #matty x reader #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fluff #matty healy fic

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notsunnyowo · 3 days

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"𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕, 𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝, 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖." --𝕌𝕟𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕟

Word count: 5 216 words

Trigger Warning : Mentions of blood

Hanahaki disease Gojo x Female Reader

Angst, Gojo suffering from Hanahaki, Angst with happy ending, Female Reader (AFAB), Fluff, Gojo is absolutely smitten with reader

Summary: Gojo Satoru is loved by many, except for the sole person he himself loves

It was sudden, the scorching feeling that filled his throat as the milky-haired man began to cough. His throat and lungs felt like they were on fire. It was almost as if thorns were poking and proding at his insides.

As soon as he thought that the violent coughing outburst was nearing its end he felt something traveling up his wind pipe and entering his mouth. Spitting the foreign object out Satoru was surprised to find a rose petal, covered with crimson blood laying on the floor of his apartment.

___

"Are you certain it's not the doing of some curse technique?" Shoko questioned, carefully examining the bloodied petal her friend had brought to her this morning. "Or a cursed spirit perhaps?" The woman continued, eyes focusing on the delicate object at hand.

"Yes. I'm certain of it." Gojo responded. His voice much too serious in comparison to the usual tone it took whenever the man talked. "My six eyes haven't detected any unknown trace of cursed energy on it."

"I see.." Ieiri commented, continuing to inspect the odd object. She'd received a call earlier that morning from Satoru, asking her if he'd be able to come over to discuss some urgent matter. And that's how she'd gotten ahold of that rose petal.

"So you coughed this up yesterday, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me what happened again?" She asked, lifting her gaze from the flower petal in order to look at the man.

"I was laying in bed last night, when I felt this strong itching sensation in the back of my throat, followed by a burning sensation in my chest." Satoru began. "And that's when I started coughing like crazy. It was so bad that I couldn't even catch my breath. . . Then I felt something in my throat and this came out."

"Alright.." The woman sat down on her chair, letting out a frusterated sigh.

"What do you think?" The white-haired man asked, his cerulean eyes harboring a mix of concern and irritation deep within them. Despite being worried about his health and well-being, given the gravity of the situation, Gojo being Gojo, found this 'weakness' to be quite a pain in the ass.

After a moment of pondering silence, the young doctor looked up at her patient. "It's a stretch but.." The unsureness of her words sent an irritating feeling throughout Satoru's entire body. "My best guess is to say that you're suffering from a phenomenon called the Hanahaki disease."

"Hana-what-now?" Gojo questioned, his brows creasing as he tried to recall any information he might've had about a disease that caused the patient to cough up rose petals, but to no avail.

Seeing the puzzled look on his face, Ieiri sighed. "Hanahaki is a disease that causes flowers to bloom in the lungs of those suffering from it. Those flowers continue to grow until they eventually suffocate the victim due to the blockage of air they impose on the patient."

"And how do I get rid of it?" Satoru asked, his voice stoic and serious.

"That's the thing.." The woman began, crossing her leg over the other. "It's caused by strong, usually unrequited, feelings of love towards someone."

Unrequited love..?

"So who is it?"

Stunned speechless for a moment, Satoru looked back at his friend. Once he'd regained his composure the man spoke, his tone now shifting to his usual, more carefree one. "Myself, obviously."

With an unamused look on her face Shoko raised an intrigued brow. "I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as Auto-Hanahaki. But, if there was, you'd definitely be suffering from it."

Letting out a loud sigh, the woman leaned back in her chair. "Well, whoever it is, you'd better settle your feelings with them before it's too late." She spoke, sincere concern evident in her voice. "However, just in case, I'll look into this disease more. See if there are any alternative ways of curing it."

"Okay."

___

After Shoko's diagnosis, Satoru was feeling worse than ever. He'd done some of his own research on this wired disease, which was now plaguing his existance. And what he found only made him, feel that much worse.

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 ) - a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear...

Frowning at his phone, the young man read trough the Wikipedia article, frustration growing inside him at an alarming rate. "How the hell am I even suffering from a fictional disease.." He muttered under his breath, brows furrowing as he annoyedly shoved his phone into his jacket pocket.

Letting an irritated sigh escape his lips, the man looked off into the horizon. "One-sided love, huh..? To think that I of all people would suffer from a diseased manifestation of one-sided love.."

Despite not voicing his feelings aloud, Gojo was well aware of them. He knew what the problem was. He knew what was needed to be done - who he needed to talk to for all of this to be over..

But he couldn't.

He was Satoru Gojo after all. The strongest sorcerer of the modern era. And with the title of strongest came its struggles. He was the pillar of the Gojo-clan - hell, even the whole jujustu society. A responsibility he alone had to carry to his grave.

Maybe it would've been easier to connect with people on a much deeper level if he was 'normal', if he wasn't 'special'.

But that was just wishful thinking on his behalf.

Even entertaining the idea of settling down, or even having someone to call his own sounded more like some well written fanfiction than a possible future he could look forward to.

There was no way he could possibly have something like that, not as long as he was "The Strongest" at least.

Not as long as there were people, curses even, that would stop at nothing if it meant having a chance to end his life.

He couldn't do that. Couldn't let someone he cared for so deeply be in constant danger, simply because they chose to love him. Couldn't let her life be endangered like that.

Even it it meant keeping her at a distance. Loving her from afar.

Satoru was a smart man and he wasn't oblivious to his feelings for you. On the contrary, he was well aware of them from the start.

He was aware of how he'd light up every time he'd see you. Or how he'd feel his heart skip a beat whenever your hands brushed against one another.

He'd known he was in love from the moment he'd seen you courageously risking your life for the safety of your students. He loved that about you. Hell, he loved everything about you. From the way you'd smile so fondly at him, whenever you were excited about something, to the way you spoke when teaching the first years.

And that was exactly why he could never tell you how he felt.

He'd never be able to live with himself if you'd ever gotten hurt because of him. He loved you with all his heart - and those bloodied petals were proof of it - however he'd promised himself to always keep you from harms way.

Even if that also meant keeping you away from him too.

He'd protect you, no matter what-

"Ah, Gojo! There you are! - I've been looking everywhere for you!" Stopping dead in his tracks, Satoru glanced back, ocean blue orbs meeting with your (eye colored) ones. The sight of your gleamful demeanor as you approached him made his heart swell up with joy - something which happened almost naturally at this point whenever you were with him.

"Is that so?" He cracked a grin, looking down at you.

However, there was something else stirring up inside him as well. A feeling he'd never experienced in your presence up until now. The immense aching feeling that quickly formed inside Satoru's chest was overwelming.

So much so, that the man found himself struggling to take a proper breath - and before he knew it - he'd began coughing. Exactly like how he had done yesterday.

"Yeah. I was wondering if you could-" You paused, looking at the tall man with a look of concern on your face. "Are you feeling alright? That cough sounds pretty bad." Your words, although caring and coming from a good heart, only seemed to further ignite the burning sensation in his heart. Effectively worsening his coughing spree.

Worry quickly spiking, you rushed over to your co-worker, and close personal friend. "Gojo-!" You called out to him, your voice filled with panic. You didn't know what it was that was causing the male such violent coughing, but what you did know was that it couldn't mean anything good.

Your worry only seemed to get worse when you first saw it. There on the sidewalk, all bloodied up, lied a single rose petal. You looked at the small petal with utter shock and disbelief. You were sure you wouldn't have believed what was laying in front of you, wasn't a figment of your imagination if you hadn't just seen it with your own eyes.

"Gojo.." Your voice trailed as you carefully inspected the foreign object. "...You just coughed up a flower petal..." You continued, your tone full of a mix of worry and confusion.

"Yeah.." The man, finally able to breathe properly again, replied.

"And you're not as freaked out about this as much as I am..?" You inquired, giving the sorcerer a worried look.

"Not really.." He answered, voice far too calm in comparison to yours.

"Okay..? And care to tell me why you coughed up a literal flower just now..??"

Satoru looked back at you, giving you a casual shoulder raise. "Apparently I'm lovesick."

"What?"

___

"I think I understand what's happening to Satoru.." Shoko began, looking at the two of you. After the whole coughing-up-a-flower fiasco, you'd insisted on taking Gojo to go see Shoko again, even if the man had told you that he'd already visited her earlier that morning.

"Cursed energy is derived from negative emotions. Therefore it's not completely unreasonable to assume that the more negative emotions a person feels the more likely they are to produce an excessive amount of cursed energy." She continued, pointing a finger at Gojo. "Satoru's practically already a walking pool of cursed energy so due to his technique, so imagine adding another load onto his already expensive amount."

The two of you listened to the woman speak intently, not wanting to miss a single thing. "Given the nature of the disease, it appears to be manifested whenever strong feelings are accumulated over a long period of time. And given that Gojo's emotionally constipated when it comes to expressing his feelings, the most probable case is that he's been bottling up his emotions for far too long. Causing them to physically manifest into these petals."

"Ouch, didn't have to bruise my ego like that Shoko." The man said, dramatically clutching his chest with faux hurt.

Letting out an amused scoff the woman continued her explanation. "They say that love is the strongest curse after all. And in your case, Satoru. It seems that you've cursed yourself, in a way."

With a worried frown on your face, you glanced over at Gojo, trying your best to study his every move. Despite him having given you a similar explanation as Shoko's, you still couldn't quite bring yourself to actually believe it was true. You'd known Gojo for quite some time now, having worked alongside him since the start of your teaching career here at Tokyo Jujutsu Highschool. And from what you'd witnessed, Satoru was extremely popular with the ladies, so the thought of a woman not returning his feelings sounded like a piece of fiction to you.

"Given the nature of the disease it's only going to get worse from here on out, if not intervened." The woman added after a long pause. "So I'd strongly recommend telling whoever it is you're in love with how you feel. - Even on the off chance that the feelings aren't mutual, it's might help release some of that cursed energy in a form that isn't hemoptysis."

Hearing Ieiri's words made your heart ache.

It was for a selfish reason really..

You felt jealous.. of the person who'd captured Satoru's heart..

Sure, it hurt you seeing the otherwise cheerful man in such a state.. But what hurt you even more was the fact that it was all because of someone who he thought didn't love him back..

You would be lying to yourself if you said that during the five years you had worked alongside the strongest sorcerer of your time, you hadn't developed some feelings for the charismatic man.

Your heart couldn't help but race whenever he was near you, just like you couldn't help the rosy blush that would tint your cheeks red every time he brought you a souvenir from one of his missions, claiming that he'd put much effort and care into finding the "perfect gift for his perfect co-worker".

Now hearing that he was suffering just because he loved someone who didn't reciprocate his feelings made your heart ache.

You had entertained the idea of confessing your feelings towards the blue-eyed man for quite some time now, hoping that there was a chance he might reciprocate them.

But now? All that hope dwindled like a wilting flower.

"I agree with Shoko.." You spoke, gaze glued to somewhere in the distance. "You should voice your feelings.. It'll help you feel better.."

___

It had been approximately five months ever since Satoru had somehow contracted the strange disease. Five months of coughing up petal, after petal covered with his own blood.

What once used to be him coughing up a single petal, two at most on a daily basis, had now escalated to him vomiting five to six petals at a time, at least three times during the day.

Once he'd even spat out a whole flower.

It would've been a far more beautiful sight, had the rose bloom not been covered with his blood, and had his lungs not burned from the act of coughing up the delicate flower.

For five months Satoru had been living his life with the constant ache in his chest. An ache that would not go away no matter what he tried doing.

The idea to use reverse cursed energy on himself had sprung up in his head during the second month. Right around the time when his constant ache was beginning to consume his every waking hour. Rendering the man unable to focus on anything else apart from it.

The first time he'd used cursed energy to heal his wounds, Satoru felt so proud of himself for coming up with such a brilliant idea, that he felt like giving himself a pat on the back as to congratulate himself for such brilliance.

Unfortunately though, his joy was rather shortlived, seeing as it turned out that using cursed energy was not only a temporary solution, but it also brought more problems than it solved. Using RCT on himself only seemed to worsen the effects of that wretched disease. Almost as if it was fanning its flames.

After that, he'd not tried healing himself using reverse cursed technique once more, unless the situation was quite dire.

For five whole months had he watched his body slowly, but surely scum to the disease. He felt like a shell of his former self. Satoru couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to take a proper breath without choking on a blasted flower.

And it only seemed to be getting worse from here out. Exactly like how Shoko had predicted.

He hadn't told you about his feelings, opting to suffer their burden alone, instead of jeopardizing your safety. An act that would eventually end up killing him in the long run.

Tonight was just like any other night. Satoru had returned home after a long day of work, immediately rushing to his bathroom to cough up the petals that were scratching his throat. It felt almost routine at this point. Get home, stain his sink with blood and roses, clean up and then go on about his day.

It was slowly killing him.

Satoru looked at himself in the mirror, eyes sunken and lips covered in blood. He looked more like a vampire than anything else right now. Lifting his hand from the sink, the man picked up one of the coughed up rose blossoms. His movements were soft and gentle, eyes softening slightly as he stared at the delicate flower.

With a pained chuckle he spoke. "I find it hard to believe that such a delicate thing as yourself could manage to wound the greatest sorcerer to ever live." His voice was hoarse from the constant strain his respiratory tracks had to endure.

Satoru didn't know whether he was referring to the flower or you in that moment, and to be completely honest, he didn't really care. This was just a reminder of all the struggles he had to endure in order to keep his title as "The Strongest Sorcerer of The Modern Era".

RING RING

The sound of his phone ringing caught his attention, snapping the young man out of any potential philosophical endeavors for the time being. Resting the rose on his bathroom sink, Satoru exited the bathroom, slowly making his way to the living room where he'd left his phone.

Picking the small object up and looking at the screen, his eyes lit up upon seeing your name pop up. Swiping his finger across the screen, he answered the phone.

"Hey." He said, trying to conceal the obvious hoarseness of his voice. "Need anything?"

"Hi, no uh-" Your voice came from the other line. Despite having seen you earlier today, Satoru found himself missing you even more now that he'd heard your voice. "I just finished doing some baking, but I accidentally ended up making a bit too many sweets. - And since I know you've got quite the sweet tooth I was wondering if you'd mind if I bring you some. Since, I don't want to waste some perfectly good Dorayaki."

Satoru couldn't help but smile at your considerate offer. God, he loved that side of you. So sweet and considerate. He just couldn't get enough. "Sure. I'm in my apartment right now, so you can stop by any time you'd like."

"Really? Great then!" You chimed. He could almost picture the bright smile you had on your face judging by your tone of voice. "I'll be there in twenty- Gotta clean up this mess first." You chuckled and Satoru swore he'd never heard a sound more melodic than this one.

"See you in twenty then." He replied.

"See ya."

___

Approximately twenty minutes after hanging up the call, Satoru heard the doorbell ringing.

That must be her.

Satoru thought. He'd already taken the liberty of cleaning up his little 'mess' in the bathroom. Taking the flower petals and throwing them away in the trash.

He didn't want you to see them. Didn't want to see that worried look upon your face. It would only make his heart ache more if he did.

With long strides, the young man effortlessly made his way to the entrance. Taking a stand at the door, he glanced at himself in the mirror, taking in his paler features with slight annoyance.

Hopefully she won't notice..

Oh but you had noticed. You'd noticed it a long time ago. Noticed his sunken features, the carefully concealed pain in his eyes. It was hard to look at the man you loved slowly suffering like that. All while you're frustratingly unable to do anything to help. All because of some woman..

You were standing there, patiently waiting for Gojo to open the door and let you in. Once you heard some shuffling on the other side you knew it was him and your body stiffened up.

As the door opened you were met with the sight of the milky-haired man, staring back at you with his big blue eyes.

"Hey." He greeted.

"Hi." You replied, suddenly feeling nervous. It wasn't like it was your first time coming over to his place so what was wrong? You'd visited Gojo plenty of times before, and not once had you felt as anxious as you did now. Strange. . .

"Don't just stand there, come in." Satoru said, offering you his signature boyish grin as he stepped aside allowing you to enter inside his luxurious apartment.

With a soft smile on your lips, you stepped inside, immediately opting to take off your shoes before going any further. Holding the bento box filled with Dorayaki in your hands, you followed the man to his living room.

"Make yourself at home." Gojo spoke, taking a step towards you and stretching out his hands in order to take the bento box from your hold.

With a quick nod, you handed him the container, and upon doing so you took a seat on his lavish sofa. Looking around, you took notice of all the little details about his apartment. It came as no surprise to you to find out that Satoru was a well organized man, even outside of work.

His apartment was absolutely spotless every time you'd visited him. You wondered how he'd get all the free time needed to keep everything so neat and tidy, but then again, he was the head of the Gojo-clan after all. And being the head of the top clan in all of Jujutsu Society came with its perks you supposed.

Resting your hands on your thighs, you took in a deep breath, secretly relishing in the room's scent. It smelled like sandalwood mixed in with a hint of that expensive cologne that Gojo would often use.

Or in other words, it smelled exactly like him.

Perfect.

Straightening up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, you instinctively glanced over to the door. Satoru, holding a porcelain plate filled with as many Dorayaki as he could fit, walked over to the table, before setting the plate down on it.

After giving you another grateful compliment for your outstanding work he finally took a seat, right across from you.

Conversation easily flowed after. Satoru was a man who found it easy to hold a conversation with almost anyone. Another attribute many envied him for. He was just so charismatic. And with the way he carried himself you couldn't help but be engaged in whatever he was telling you. Even if it was sometimes the most boring thing you could think of, he made it sound like such a fun topic.

Smiling softly at the man, you studied his features. Has he lost some weight? You thought, taking notice of his more prominent cheekbones. Shifting your gaze, your eyes met with his. Despite still having that same vibrant blue color in them, you couldn't help but notice the dullness behind them. It was like all the life was slowly being drained away from them.

By this point, Satoru had already stopped talking. Sensing your gaze on him his eyes locked with yours. Part of him knew what you were probably thinking. It made him want to look away. Not to let you see what had become of him because of his feelings for you.

And then he felt it.

Just like clockwork, his airways constructed, causing the man to curl down as he began coughing.

As soon as he'd begun coughing, you were up and rushing to his side. "Gojo!" You cried out his name, worry and panic filling your voice as you wracked your brain for anything that you could do to help him.

But nothing came to mind.

And so, you were left just standing there, arms hovering over the man you held so dear in your heart. The feeling of being unable to help the one you loved made you feel sick to the stomach.

A horrible experience, really.

Once the coughing had stopped, you looked at Satoru's bloodied lips, and then at the rose petals scattered across the floor. Staining the carpet red with his blood.

"How are you?" You asked, looking at the man with a worried expression.

"M' fine." He said in a raspy tone, followed by another deep cough. "Don't worry about me."

You frowned at his words. How could you possibly do anything else aside from worry about him when he was in such a state!

"You don't seem so well Gojo.." You spoke up, looking back at the snow-haired man with a gentle look in your eyes. A look that made his heart ache.

"Your condition only seems to have gotten worse as far as I can tell.." Pursing your lips, you paused for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "I'm just.. Really worried about you.."

Satoru could physically feel his heart breaking as you spoke those words to him. The last thing he'd wanted to hear was that he was the cause of your worry. The whole reason he hadn't told you that he was in love with you was solely for the reason as to not make you feel unhappy.. And yet..

He failed.

"Have you.." You continued, suddenly averting your gaze from his. "Have you told her your feelings yet?.."

A deep silence willed the room after you'd voiced your question. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours, until Satoru finally broke the silence by answering your question.

"No.. I haven't."

"Why?"

The question left your lips before you could even stop yourself.

Satoru simply looked at you, before answering.

"I can't."

"You can't..?"

What does he mean by that? You thought, unable to find a reasonable explanation for why he simply couldn't confess his feelings to the woman he desired.

"I don't understand.. What's stopping you from telling her how you feel?"

You pressed the matter. If Gojo didn't do anything about his condition he wouldn't make it. And you for one were not planning on losing him any time soon.

Satoru looked back at you, and for a moment, he didn't really know what to tell you. He had no proper answer to give you that wouldn't inevitably reveal what he was trying to hide from you all this time.

"It's.. complicated."

"What is?" Furrowing your brows you looked back at him. "Gojo.. You do realize that not telling her how you feel is slowly killing you. There's no harm in admitting your feelings to her, you know.."

Despite the hurt that saying those words to him caused you, you had to put up with it. If it meant Satoru got to live, you'd happily grin and bear it.

"(Last Name), you don't understand.. I can't just tell her I love her, all right?" Satoru spoke, his voice a little shaken up. "It's not as simple as you think."

He paused, looking off into the distance before continuing once more. "Telling her I love her is only going to make her a target for everyone that's out to get me. I can't risk putting her in danger like that. I won't."

"And even if I do tell her. - There's no guarantee that she feels the same.."

"So what? You're going to accept death?" You spoke, voice cracking at the end. Glossy tears filled your eyes as your lip quivered. "And then what? What about all the people that need you in their life?"

"There are people that care so much about you Gojo!" You exclaimed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I care about you!"

By this point, you were extremely shaken up. You couldn't believe that he was willing to accept his fate like that! Didn't he know how much he meant to you?

"I love you!"

The words left your mouth before you could even register what was happening. And once you did it was too late.

You could feel the wave of instant regret crashing against your body with such immense force. And Satoru's science wasn't doing you any good either.

I messed up. I messed up real bad.!

The thought went over and over in your head as you stared back at Satoru. He was speechless. That was to be expected after all! Here he was slowly dying and you'd just confessed your love to him!

"G-Gojo I-" You began, unable to find the right words to say to him. "I am so sorry! I-I don't know what came over me, I just-"

"(Last Name)."

"I know that now is hardly the right time to be telling you this but it just slipped!-"

"(Last Name)."

"I mean you've already got so much on your plate and here I am telling you that I-?!"

Your words were cut off by Satoru's lips crashing against yours. A tingling sensation spread across your whole body and your stomach did flips.

Whatever feelings you were experiencing in that moment, Satoru was experiencing tenfold the amount. Hearing that you loved him back was like hearing the loveliest melody known to man. Those simple yet powerful words made his heart race.

You loved him..

You actually loved him.

After a few moments of sharing a kiss with the Gojo Satoru, the man finally pulled away. He looked at you straight in the eye, with his lips slightly parted.

Meanwhile you were just left standing there, completely and utterly speechless.

It took you some time to fully gather your thoughts, but once you did you asked, or more like stated in pure disbelief.

"You.. kissed me?"

"Yeah.." He began, his eyes softening as he focused their gaze on your petite figure." "I did, didn't I..?"

Checks flushed bright red, you looked back at the slender man. "D-Does that mean?-"

Satoru Gojo, had made a promise to himself. A promise that no matter the cost he would be there to protect you. He'd always be there to keep you safe. No matter what.

He knew that what he was about to say would go against his plan. Confessing his feelings would mean putting you in grave danger.

But he'd decided on something else after hearing those three faithful words from your lips.

He'd keep you safe by his side, even if it meant putting his life on the line. That was a risk he was willing to take if it meant getting to kiss your soft lips once more. Or hearing you say you love him too.

He'd do it within the blink of an eye for you.

That he vowed.

"I love you (Name)."

The words were so liberating. The thorns and roses that had been growing inside his lungs vanished into thin air. And finally, after months of pain and anguish, Satoru was finally able to take a breath without the constant reminder that he would forever be alone.

He loved you.

And you loved him back.

What more could a man hope for?

---

Author Note:

Hope you all enjoyed reading :)

The idea sounded much better in my head tbh but I think it turned out okay. TvT

#gojo satoru x reader #romance #jjk #angst with a happy ending #jjk angst #jjk fluff #angst #tw blood #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader

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thedeathlysallows · 3 days

Text

Is It Over Now? (13)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: My hand was the one you reached for

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Stockholm Syndrome, infidelity, manipulative Aegon, discussion of character death. Smut, fingering, using murder as dirty talk, hand job, public sex.

Aemma's coin has finally flipped, but where will it land? Greatness or madness?

Tag list: @callsignwidow

You aren't sure how or when it happened, but it's as though something inside you snapped, slowly but surely shifted your love and loyalty from your mother to Aegon. All your plans, all the playing pretend melted away until it became your reality. When did that happen? When did you become so pathetic? Was it the abject horror of seeing Aemond loving another woman in Harrenhal? Or were you always this weak?

"You seem deep in thought." Aegon looks down at you, head tilted slightly so that the rubies of the Conqueror's crown glitter in the sunlight.

"I suppose," you respond dully.

He hums in annoyance before looking away abruptly. You aren't sure why he insists on walking with you through the gardens, but it was the one reprieve he allowed after your escape. You're kept under a smothering watch at all times now except for when Aegon fetches you for your daily walk. He never lets you go with guards. It has to be him, and you just don't understand it.

Annoyance rises in you, bitter and dark. "I don't understand!"

"What don't you understand?"

Lots of things. You don't understand lots of things, but you don't want to discuss the complicated relationship between the two of you, so you say, "You told Aemond to seduce the witch. Why? Why would you do that?"

Aegon tosses his head back and laughs. "Is that what the bastard told you? And he says I'm the degenerate one."

"Aegon, this isn't the time for jokes. I want the truth." You turn to him fully and he's struck suddenly by the fire in your eyes. It's been so long since he's seen it he thought you'd given up your spark completely.

But of course not.

Of course your fire is still there because his is still there.

Aegon still burns every second of every day for you. The two of you are the last flickering twin flames of Old Valeyria, meant to merge together and raze down everything standing in its way. He loves you, desires you, needs you more than Aemond possibly could.

"You want the truth, my little dragon?" He steps closer to you, following as you move away from him. "I'll give you the truth, but I want you to remember that it was I to do so... not Aemond."

You suck in a deep breath, overwhelmed by Aegon's presence crowding you against a tree. Rough bark bites into your exposed back and arms. Suddenly, the gauzy dress you chose this morning doesn't feel like it covers enough.

"Aemond would never lie to me," you eventually say.

"I see. Is that why he blamed me? All I told him was to keep the witch loyal to us. I don't give a single fuck about her happiness or comfort... but Aemond does, doesn't he?" Aegon traces his thumb across your bottom lip before continuing.

"Let me guess: he told you not to worry and that she could never compare. I've told Helaena the same about my whores. I suppose, in a round about way, it's the truth. She's kinder than them, more of a proper lady. She deserves better."

You want to strike out at Aegon, your palm itches for it, but you stay still. He pets you so gently, running his hands over your body in a comforting way that brings tears to your eyes. You want to ask him why he doesn't give her better if she deserves it, but you already know the answer.

You.

Aegon has spent years pining over you, spiraling when you were taken away like some sort of toy. He's a spoiled brat. You love him anyway... but you love Aemond as well.

"Is love enough?" Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

"Enough for what?"

"Anything." For Aemond to be loyal, but you don't say it out loud.

Aegon knows what you want to say, but won't say. He knows you better than anyone. Maybe even better than you know yourself. "Love is enough for us if you'll allow it."

Your lips curl up in a wry smile. "You're being awfully sweet today, Your Majesty."

"Maybe it's because I see where my brother is failing and I decided I need to take this chance."

"Failing on your orders."

"Not my orders. I never told him to fuck her, but we both know that's what he's doing." Aegon presses his lips to yours, hot and persistent. "Don't you want revenge, little dragon?"

Yes.

Yes, you do want revenge.

You want blood and revenge and for this foreign anger inside you to end.

Aegon's lips trail from your lips to the column of your neck, teeth sinking into your skin every so often while his hands grip your waist. He grinds into you and you feel the delicious drag of his hard cock between your thighs. "I have plenty of information from the witch. So much that her life means nothing to me now. You could kill her if you wanted."

Kill her?

"H-have you ever killed anyone?" The idea makes you nervous, but it's hard to concentrate on those nerves when Aegon's hands are slowly bunching your dress around your waist.

"Yes. Would you like to hear about it?" He nips at your ear, chuckling darkly when you yelp. Two of his fingers circle your clit before dipping into your cunt and he moans when he finds you absolutely soaking wet.

You nod, letting out a little whimper. "Yes... please..."

"Mmm, good girl." Aegon pumps his fingers in and out of you at a punishing pace. "It's better than any drunken high, any fuck... it's... ah, fuck, yes..."

Aegon's head falls to your shoulder when your hand slips inside his trousers to stroke his length. You wrap a leg around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes against your skin. "Such a good little whore for me. D'you like this? Like me fucking you in public?"

You do. You really, really do.

"Say it," he demands, wrapping a hand around your throat. "Say how much you like it."

"Aegon... please... I love it."

"Say you love me."

You nod. "I love you!"

Aegon's grin is almost terrifying when he says, "I want to watch you kill Alys Rivers."

The pleasure that had been building in the pit of your stomach crests and washes over the rest of you, leaving you to spasm around Aegon's thick fingers. He kisses you all over as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling into your hand.

"Good girl," Aegon whispers into your hair. "Fuck, you're so good for me. We need to remind Aemond how good you are, yeah?"

That's all you really want, you think to yourself. You just want to be good for the people who love you. That's all you ever wanted.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you

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aurumacadicus · 3 days

Note

92 or 14 maybe? 🤔

Going with 14!

Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.

Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"

"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.

It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.

Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.

It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?

Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.

Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.

"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."

"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.

"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"

"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.

"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."

Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.

"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.

"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."

There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.

Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.

"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.

"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"

If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.

But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."

"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.

Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

#aurumacadicus answers #sunnysideprincess #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

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