#scrutinised the plot

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

#sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagine #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x female reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #zaraswriting #sukuna x concubine

[marimogf-archived]

it's mr. steal your girl!

synopsis: getting stood up by your boyfriend on your birthday? don't worry, your best friend, infinite flirt satoru gojo, will never let you down!

genre / au: porn with a little plot? best friend!satoru, best friends to lovers, little fluff at the end, very little angst

contains: EXPLICIT CONTENT (MINORS DNI), afab!reader, slight dom!satoru, reader wears makeup and a dress, cheating, use of petnames (good girl, sweetheart, baby etc.), daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, photo taking, shitty bf naoya; wc: ~4.1k

happy reading, i hope you enjoy! as always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!! 🩷

PLEASE READ MY DNI BEFORE INTERACTING!

satoru gojo is a player. or so the rumours say. everyone who talks about him says so. dubbed “mr. steal your girl” with how fast he had people falling for him, taken or not. that he's overly flirty, he hooks up with people on a whim and is not a fan of commitment.

but oh dear, was he committed to getting into your pants.

ever since he was introduced to you, arms interlinked with your boyfriend, naoya, he fantasised about being what the zen’in brat was for you. he could never treat you right, unlike satoru.

over time, the two of you got closer and closer, much to naoya’s dismay. but who was he to stop the great satoru gojo from seeing you? exactly.

most of your conversations were about your boyfriend. satoru telling you how much he hated how the zen’in heir treated you, how he was trying to keep you to himself and how you deserved better. the smile on his face fading whilst he listened to you defending naoya, trying to be a good wife-to-be, not expecting anything back from him.

satoru’s everlasting smile turned upside down, trying to understand what it was about him that had you so wrapped around his finger.

even today, on your birthday, he wasn't there. and yet you never uttered a bad word about him. even on this important day, he didn't care.

naoya had been called to an emergency clan meeting, apparently forgetting to give you a head’s up. not even a “happy birthday” text, nothing. you had waited for an hour at the restaurant until you got the call from him, telling you that he was tired after the meeting and wishing you happy birthday in that disgustingly bored tone of his.

with your heart in pieces, you called satoru right after, not wanting to waste the reservation and have a nice dinner either way. he took it as an opportunity to scrutinise naoya again, rightfully so.

“please, he could be treating you so much better. he acts like you're just an incubator for his heir and it's honestly annoying. he doesn't respect you at all and never will. he doesn't keep you around to marry, you're just a fleshlight for him. does he make you cum?,” he stated, sipping on his way too sweet tea.

you gasp at his lewd question, slapping his arm lightly and looking around to see if anyone heard him. heat was rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“what are you saying, of course he does!” you hissed, lying through your teeth.

satoru smirked, catching you red-handed. “you're lying and not even good at it.”

with a huff, you crossed your arms and watched how his eyes dipped to your accentuated chest and back to your face.

“okay, maybe he doesn't and i have to fake it sometimes but it still feels good. why do you even care?”

the white-haired man leaned forward, head resting on his large hand. his ocean eyes peering into yours over his sunglasses, making you squirm in your seat.

“because i want my best friend to be happy and making you cum is a part of that. it can't be that hard to make you orgasm, even naoya could do it if he cared. but he doesn't. hell, he stood you up on your own birthday because of his stupid clan meeting!”

you squinted at him, trying to ignore the thrumming in your chest as you uttered the next words.

“what? like you could treat me better?”

oh, now you've done it.

he finished his drink before grabbing your wrist and pulling you away to his car. the drive back to his apartment was tense, his warm hand on your thigh as he concentrated on the road. you squirmed, not having expected him to actually take the bait.

yes, he was your best and closest friend but he never lied about finding you hot. he never lied about his distaste for naoya, always bragging how much better he would treat you if you just gave him a chance. but because he was satoru gojo, the infinite flirt, you never thought he'd actually mean it.

he parked the car, getting out to open the passenger door for you. placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the front door. the smell of his cologne was overtaking your senses, getting dizzy at the prospect of actually getting in his pants.

unlocking his apartment door, he took off his sunglasses before gently taking your hand and guided you to the bedroom. as you took a tentative seat on his bed, looking around the room to avoid eye contact, satoru took a few steps towards you.

“we don't have to do it, you know. wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the zen’ins. not that i couldn't protect you. i’ll kill them if needed,” he said, kneeling in front of you and placing a warm hand on your knee.

“i just can't stand to see you so upset on your birthday and i wanna show you what it's like to be treated well because your dickhead of a boyfriend can't.”

your heart broke because you knew on the inside he was right. naoya didn't care about you at all, it was all a facade for his parents so they would stop pestering him to get married. but he never had any intention of putting a ring on your finger or having a long term relationship. you never even met his family, he didn't even invite you to his home. it was a purely physical relationship with someone you weren't compatible with with no regard for you. and for what?

it hurt. it hurt bad and you wanted satoru to take the pain away.

your eyes rose to look at him, tears brimming in them. as always, satoru read you like an open book. no matter how much you would try to hide it, he was always acutely aware of your emotions. when you nodded, giving him the green light, he smiled widely.

he rose, face to face with you, before gently kissing you and tasting the tears that started to roll down your cheeks. a whine escaped your throat, instantly being swallowed up by satoru’s lips and stored away in his memory. your eyes fluttered closed and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks once again.

his lips were so perfectly soft against yours and your hands slid up to his chest to grip his shirt. his big hands were on your neck and cheek, holding you close as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip.

your lips parted willingly, letting his tongue slide against yours. meanwhile, your fingers did quick work of the buttons of his shirt, leaving him in just a black tank top that stretched over his muscular pecs. your hands slid underneath the shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and exposing his toned arms.

his hands slid down to your shoulders, playing with the straps of your skimpy dress. he pulled away, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he watched your already dazed expression.

“you were trying to get some tonight, hm? dressed like that,” he murmured against your lips. his smile widened as you nodded, averting your gaze in embarrassment. though he wasn't the man you had intended to be in bed with, you weren't complaining.

satoru was an attractive man, no one could deny that. his snow white, fluffy hair, his cerulean blue eyes, his soft lips. down to his lean build, muscles invisible under his baggy clothes and only exposed to those who have the honour to take him to bed.

“i know i’m not your boyfriend, but i’ll show you how he should be treating you,” satoru’s voice was low and his tone so sincere that tears burned in your eyes again. his calloused thumb wiped away the stray ones escaping, kissing your mascara-stained cheeks.

his kisses started travelling lower, along your jawline and down your neck. you closed your eyes with a sigh as satoru’s soft lips explored your hot skin. he gently pushed you back onto the soft mattress, his lips never leaving your neck. his tall frame towered over you, a feeling of safety embracing you.

he alternated between sucking and biting, marking you as his. quiet moans left your lips as his large hands found your soft breasts, massaging them through your dress. your nipples were already perked up, visible through the thin fabric.

“‘toru…” you whimpered, hands gripping his broad shoulders. your sounds were music to his ears. he pinched your nipples through your dress, making your back arch into him. that gave him the perfect opportunity to slide the straps off your shoulders, exposing you to the cold air in his bedroom as well as his hungry eyes.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he taunted, leaning down again to ravage your chest, hot mouth engulfing your perked bud. you whined, your hands finding purchase in his soft hair. the other breast was also getting attention. his big hand squishing it, rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers. switching sides, the cold air made your saliva-slicked bud even more sensitive. he gently bit your nipple, making you moan his name and pull his hair.

pulling him off of you, he looked at you with dilated pupils and a cocky grin on his lips. your heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall.

“please, just make me forget about him.”

your dress was off in seconds, leaving you just in your skimpy lace underwear that sported a wet patch already. he took off his clothes down to his boxers equally as fast before focusing his attention back on you.

you felt so small underneath his intense gaze, his body framing yours as he leaned over you again to kiss you feverishly. you pulled him closer, hands wandering over his hot skin, feeling his muscles twitch and flex. satoru had a way of making everyone around him feel small due to his height but now you truly felt tiny underneath his large frame.

his kisses trailed down your chest again, going lower and lower until he knelt between your legs, nipping at the skin of your thighs. you sat up on your elbows to see his darkened eyes and his nose nudging against your covered cunt, inhaling your scent.

“all this for me? you shouldn't have,” he smirked, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed clit. you whined his name, wiggling and hinting at him to get on with it. he let out a chuckle and hooked his fingers under the waistband to pull your soaked underwear down your legs, a string of arousal connecting your cunt and the fabric. throwing the skimpy fabric over his shoulder, he placed his warm hands on the inside of your soft thighs as you tried to close your legs.

“nuh uh, baby, let me see what naoya’s been claiming.”

satoru gojo may not be a fan of commitment. but currently, he was hopelessly devoted to you.

okay, you and your wet cunt in front of his face. your folds were glistening with arousal, the scent of it overtaking his senses. all for him and him only.

he had dreamed about this for a long time. to have you like this underneath him, bashfully writhing and moaning for him to hurry up.

his lips found your thigh, fangs showing to nip your skin and mark you. you were watching him intently, mouth agape and drool threatening to run out of the corner.

when his hot tongue finally made contact with your pussy, your head fell back and a loud moan left your lips. the wet appendage was lapping up your juices and he moaned at your sweet taste. his eyes were trained on your face, brows furrowed in concentration.

he was dead set on fulfilling your wish. to make you forget your shitty boyfriend, erasing every bad memory from your mind and body.

his hands gripped your thighs, nails leaving crescent marks as your hips moved on their own, grinding against his hot mouth. his tongue flattened against your clit, providing you with just enough friction to grind against.

his scalp started to burn pleasantly with the way you were pulling him, using him to get yourself off. his tongue was so hot and wet against you and his lips curled into a smile when he noticed your moans getting louder and your hips stuttering against him.

he pulled away just as you were tiptoeing on the brink of orgasm, a needy whine leaving your lips.

“hah… why'd you stop, ‘toru? please, wanna cum,” you whimpered and he almost gave in if it wasn't for his plan.

his fingers spread your lips, watching your tiny hole clench around nothing. your glistening arousal dripping down your hole made his mouth water again. his long middle finger slid into your warmth slowly, your arms giving out underneath you and your back arching towards him.

he curled his finger upwards, finding the spongy spot in your walls almost immediately and abusing it right away. whimpers left your throat and you gripped the sheets next to you, fucking yourself on his finger.

“fuuck baby, s’tight. naoya isn't fucking you right, is he?”

a rhetorical question. if he would, you wouldn't be in this predicament.

he added a second one, his larger fingers stretching you out and reaching spots inside you that naoya never could. but just as you were close to cumming, he pulled his finger out, leaving you high and dry again.

“why'd you do that? i wanna cum, ‘toru, please, just let me,” you cried out, leaning up on wobbly arms with huffs and puffs.

“because i haven't given you your birthday taps yet.”

your eyes widened at his insinuation. satoru grinned at you before his big hand made contact with your pussy again.

but not in the way you had hoped and wanted.

a harsh slap echoed through the room, followed by a whine from your lips. the man between your legs grinned, fangs shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“c’mon baby, you gotta count,” he teased, calloused fingers drawing gentle circles on your swollen clit. “for good luck.”

you couldn't concentrate, feeling dizzy at the stimulation and your two denied orgasms already. but to satoru’s delight, you started counting. he kept going, always giving you a little breather in between and rubbing your clit or pushing his fingers inside you to keep you on edge. your thighs were trembling, littered with marks and your voice was starting to give out at the halfway point.

“please ‘toru, i wanna cum so bad,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist and looking at his smug face with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“you're almost done, baby. if you finish without cumming, i’ll give it to you,” he spoke, thumb rubbing your hot skin soothingly. truthfully, satoru didn't even know how he was lasting, dick painfully hard and dripping against the mattress. but he restrained himself somehow.

for you.

the last few slaps against your cunt were torturous, stars dancing behind your eyes with each slap and the coil threatening to snap.

“okay, you're done, baby. did s’well, you deserve a reward now, hm?” satoru teased before plunging two fingers into your dripping pussy, his tongue wet against your clit.

your back arched unnaturally off the bed, hands gripping his white strands. you almost blacked out from the pleasure as your hips gyrated against his fingers.

“oh, s’good, tha…thank you, thank you,” you panted, chasing ecstasy, “fuck, feels so good.”

“yeah? better than your shitty boyfriend?” he cooed, watching you get yourself off on him. your skin was glistening with sweat, the smell of your arousal filling the whole room and your moans just music to his ears.

“can't believe he'd wanna miss out on this,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. not that you would've heard, too busy getting lost in the pleasure.

“m’close, pleasepleaseplease, daddy!! please let me cum!” you begged and satoru’s heart leaped out of his chest at the nickname. he'd never expected you to call someone daddy but now that he heard it once?

he never wanted anyone else to hear it.

“come on then, make a mess, baby,” he said, giving you the green light, “make a mess on daddy’s fingers.”

satoru watched in delight as your body convulsed and your cunt gushed clear liquid into his waiting mouth. he was drinking up your juices and moaning against you, prolonging your orgasm. he slowed down his fingers, giving your clit kitten licks before pulling out with a wet squelch. his fingers were drenched in your juices and he lifted himself up, pushing his fingers past your lips.

he could've sworn he blacked out for a second when you looked at him with fucked out eyes and heart-shaped pupils. sucking your essence off his fingers and moaning around them.

“fuck, you're so hot. i can't believe he doesn't wanna fuck you 24/7. such a good girl,” he whispered. you whined, brain scrambled from how hard you came.

he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, giving you a heated kiss before rummaging around his room for a condom. once you came to your senses again and realised what he was looking for, you called out to him.

“satoru.”

he turned around, looking at you getting on your hands and knees shakily and looking back at him. his dick twitched in his underwear as you wiggled your ass at him, cunt dripping onto the sheets.

“you don't need one.”

at the premise of fucking you raw, he got behind you, boxers discarded in seconds and his fat cock grinding against your wet heat. your arousal was lubricating his length before he slowly pushed into your warm, wet cunt. he let out a moan, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. he bottomed out, feeling you clench around him and he tried his hardest not to bust right there.

“oh m’god, so big,” you whimpered, arms threatening to give out. one of satoru’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up and closer to him. the other snaking up for his hand to cover your throat and squeezing gently. his chest was pressed against your arched back, his whole body caging you.

“yeah? like being filled up with daddy's cock?” he whispered in your ears and you whined, feeling your cunt stretching out. his hand snaked down to your sensitive clit, slowly circling his fingers and adding to the stimulation.

“s’good, daddy, please fuck me,” you moaned, drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you held onto satoru’s strong arms.

he started moving at your command. slowly, gently, feeling your walls hug his length so deliciously. his dick hit every sensitive spot of your walls, mushroom tip nudging against your cervix.

“fuck, baby, y’r so tight, so good f’me,” he grunted, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your shoulder before picking up the pace. his hips snapped against yours, your tits jiggling with every thrust.

your lips were parted, letting out a constant stream of moans at how deliciously painful satoru’s swollen tip bruised your insides. stretching you out and nudging that gummy, sensitive spot inside you that had you reeling towards the edge.

“g’na cum again, daddy. pleaseplease let me cum!” you whined, nails leaving red marks on his skin as you struggled to keep your hold on him. satoru smirked against your skin, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a groan when you clenched around him. you were trying so hard to keep it in, to be a good girl.

all for him.

“cum for me then, make a mess on my cock, baby,” he whispered in your ear. he held you close to him as you shook, pussy clenching and gushing around him and soaking the sheets.

“oh fuuck, oh my god!” you whimpered when he slowly thrusted into you. he was prolonging your orgasm while inching closer to his own, your sensitive walls hugging his length so tightly.

satoru let go of you, letting you fall to the mattress. one of his hands gripping your hip tightly. the other was grabbing your hair, pulling your torso up. putting his foot onto the mattress for leverage, his thrusts began to speed up, a constant slapping sound echoing through his bedroom. his pink lips were parted, letting out deep grunts and moans of your name.

“gonna fill y’up, baby. gonna breed this little pussy, get you all nice and pregnant, so that asshole knows you’re mine. you'd like that, wouldn't you?,” he grumbled, completely pussydrunk.

“please, daddy, fill m’up, make me yours,” you mewled, absolutely drunk off the way he was hitting your g-spot over and over again. the coil in your stomach was tightening yet again.

his hips snapped into you, just a few thrusts more until he was stilling inside you. bottomed out, he let out a long moan as rope after rope of his cum painted your insides white. the warm feeling of his seed made you cum yet again, coating his length in your essence.

you two stayed still for a breath before satoru pulled out with a lewd squelch, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of your clenching hole. he grabbed the flesh of your buttock, using two fingers to push his cum back into you. he then took your phone, snapping a picture of your leaking cunt and sending it to naoya.

captioned: “it's mr. steal your girl! :3”

he wanted to block the contact but refrained, just for you to see his reaction. while he got off the bed, you flopped onto your side, heavy breathing making your chest rise and fall. he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your sweaty forehead, whispering that he'll be right back.

you didn't come back to your senses for a while, trying to make up what actually happened. guilt and anxiety overtook you, but the pleasant buzz of sex overshadowed it soon enough.

satoru returned quickly with a wet washcloth and a glass of water with a straw. he held it out for you, watching with heart-shaped pupils as you emptied the glass in mere seconds. the wet washcloth met your face, gently wiping away the sweat before he reached between your legs, wiping away the remnants of both your orgasms.

your eyes were struggling to stay open, trying desperately to fight sleep. a content smile lifted the corners of your mouth, a gentle simmer overtaking your heart.

“so this is how the great satoru gojo treats his hookups, huh?” you mumbled, not really expecting an answer. satoru’s hand settled on your cheek, thumb rubbing soothingly over the hot skin. the gentle touch forced you to look at him, tears burning in your eyes at the prospect of facing your actual boyfriend.

as if he could read your troubled mind, satoru leaned down again to press his lips against yours, trying to convey the loving thrum of his heart with just a kiss. but just in case it wouldn't work, he parted from you to speak.

“you weren't just a hookup though. this is how the great satoru gojo would treat his potential girlfriend if she would finally break up with her scumbag of a boyfriend,” he murmured, nose nudging yours, forcing an exhausted giggle out of you.

“but good thing, i already did it for you!” he held the phone up to your face, showing you the photo he sent to naoya as well as the slur of angry messages that followed, including one stating that he was breaking up with you. reading through it all with a slacked jaw, a breathy laugh erupted from your chest.

the realisation hit you in the face. you were finally free from the zen’in clan and their horrid heir. not that they'd care anyway.

“you're unbelievable, satoru!”

he took the liberty of blocking the contact now, setting your phone down on the nightstand.

“i truly really like you, i didn't just wanna give you some mind-blowing birthday sex. not that i’m complaining,” he laughed, reaching out for your hand. the giggle that left your lips had his heart doing somersaults.

“i truly want to see you happy and i’m a firm believer that you would be by my side. i know i always joke about it but i’m being honest right now. will you please be my girlfriend?” he asked, voice quiet and almost insecure which was an unusual phenomenon.

you felt your heartbeat pick up, the organ thrumming against your ribcage. you always had eyes for satoru. truthfully, you got with naoya out of spite in hopes that the feelings would subside. but the truth would always prevail.

“is that a rhetorical question? of course i will!”

satoru gojo, "mr. steal your girl", has only ever stolen one girl in his life and that was you.

but by god, was it worth it.

a/n: WAHHHHHHH it's finally out of my system!! this is dedicated to my favourite gojo fucker @jabamin for her and gojo's birthday 🩷 (everyone go wish karina a happy birthday or else 🫵🏼) thank you to @tojiella for your help proofreading, also tagging @screampied @ramonathinks @c0pkiller @tetsuskei and @gojoest as fellow gojo lovers teehee. i hope you enjoyed, love you so much 💗

© marimogf 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru #enough tags now #˚₊‧꒰ writing ꒱ ‧₊˚

[beenbaanbuun]

cock warming w/jongho

words - 🫣

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - cockwarming, dom!jongho, sub!reader, kind of non-sexual intimacy (cockwarming but not necessarily horny), a single spank, praise, guidance, it’s just very cute

you cant convince me that jongho doesn’t absolutely love cockwarming. like there’s just something about the intimacy of it that really gets him going. mix that with the casual dominance of it all - him pinning you down with a strong arm, spanking your thigh if you begin to grow restless, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear as you lay your chest against his in a dizzy haze - and he’s going practically insane.

it’s movie night, just you and him, and for some unknown reason he decided to use that feature of netflix that picks a random film for you

of course, after 4 or 5 tries, it lands on nothing good (because it never does) and the two of you decide to settle for whatever random film it decided on

it starts off with you two making fun of the poor editing and direction of the film, picking at all the plot holes until you were both giggling incessantly

that little game lasted a while, but it didn’t take long for it to become boring and the two of you were plunged into a comfortable silence once more

until, of course, a sex scene!

in the grand scheme of things, it had no relation to the film whatsoever and was quite frankly incredibly poorly made

like you don’t know who those moans were coming from, but they didn’t match up with the mouths of either of the actors

but just as you were about to make fun of it to jongho, you noticed a little something of his lap

well, more like a big something, and you couldn’t help but gasp

“this is making you hard?” you scrutinise, eyes narrowing as you pull them away from the tent in his pants to instead look at his face

you expected him to be embarrassed or ashamed, but he wore a stoic expression as he shushed you

again, you gasped and sat up from the position you were in, leant up against him

“first you get hard to the worst sex scene i’ve ever seen, then you shush me?” you scoffed, “just say you hate me, next time.”

you watched as he rolled his eyes, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to look at you

“i’ve been hard for the last 20 minutes,” he grumbled, “you just didn’t notice so i didn’t say anything.”

oh… that’s weird

it’s not like you’d been doing anything to try and make him hard, and it’s not like the film had even been remotely sexy in any way shape or form

like you’d understand if you were lay there in lingerie, but you were in what you described as your ‘grannie nightie’, curled up against him like you would be on any other night

you frowned

“well, why are you hard?” you asked

“am i not allowed to be?” he replied

it was a fair response, but you still wanted answers

“well there has to be a reason…” you mumbled

“i’m sorry, why don’t you just call the erection police?” his voice was dripping in sarcasm, “hello? 911? yeah, i was being cute around my boyfriend and now he’s hard. come arrest him please!”

at this point the film was just background noise as the two of you went back and forth bickering about his penis of all things…

“wait, your erection is because of me?” you cock your head to the side in confusion

again, your pyjamas were hardly the sexiest thing in the world, unless you’re an 80 year old man and this is the most thigh you’ve seen in years

but jongho wasn’t 80, and he saw your thighs on a daily basis

fuck, he saw a lot more than thigh on most days

“well who else would’ve caused it?” he glanced between you and the screen, “you can’t seriously believe this shit show made me hard?”

“oh,” you mumbled

“yeah, oh…” he rolled his eyes

and you thought that was it for a moment before his hands were on you and you were being tugged onto his lap like you were nothing more than a rag doll

you squeaked in surprise as his strong arms pinned you to his lap, erection digging into your thigh

you squirmed, but the look he gave you quickly stopped you in your tracks

“you want to know why i’m hard?” he mumbled into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips

he looked so innocent, and you would’ve believed it if it weren’t for the obvious

you nodded

“you’re just too cute, baby,” he chuckled deeply into your ear, the sound heading immediately south, slicking you up a little, “in your cute little nightie, making your cute little comments. sue me for being attracted to you…”

“but that’s not…” you trailed off, “i’m not being sexy, am i?”

“you don’t have to be, baby,” he cooed, “you don’t have to make yourself sexy for me to want you. i want you just as much now as i would any other day.”

“so you want to fuck me because i’m not sexy?”

he scoffed, “i want to be close to you, baby. it’s not the same.”

it sounded the same to you, but still you nodded as if you understood

“want me to take a seat?” you grounded down once and he groaned

his eyes rolled back into his head in pleasure, but just as you were about to do it again he stopped you

“not if you’re not going to be a good girl and sit still for me,” you barely registered the sound of the slap until the stinging sensation spread though your thigh a moment later, “i said i didn’t want to fuck you, and here you are grinding on my dick like you can’t understand basic instructions!”

you stilled at his comment, a frown forming on your face

now you really didn’t get it…

he seemed to notice your sudden change in demeanour and sighed

“i don’t want to fuck you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be inside of you,” he explained slowly, desperate to make you understand, “i just want you to be around me, sweetheart. no expectations, i just want to be close to you.”

oh…

you supposed that made a little sense

with a slightly less confused look, you nodded

you didn’t move though

you misunderstood him before, now you wanted him to guide you through it so you didn’t get it wrong again

luckily for you, jongho took more than a little pride in telling you what to do

it boosted his ego, and he couldn’t deny how sweet you looked when you followed his every instruction

so he gave you a sweet smile before setting his hands on your waist

“straddle me, baby.”

his hands never left your sides as you followed his directions

“good girl,” he praised, making you puff your chest out a little with pride, “now i need you to pull my bottoms down, hm?”

and you did it, because jongho was right - you were his good girl!

you reached your hands down and shuffled back a little to give his dick enough room to spring free

and when it did spring free, you couldn’t help but sit in awe of how pretty it was

you’d seen it before, but you were still shocked at how perfect it was every time you saw it

a decent size lengthwise, but thicker than most

a pretty pink tip that leaked pearlescent precum in little droplets

jongho chuckled

“you done staring, or do you want to take a picture?” your eyes widened and your gaze shot up to his face again.

he wore a wide smirk as you mumbled an apology

“it’s okay, sweetheart,” his thumbs rubbed circles over your sides, “now, can you slip your panties to the side for me? i want you to sit on me…”

and again, you did as he asked because you were good and you wanted to behave for him

so your fingers slid south and pushed the thin cotton to the side (ignoring the way you had to peel them away from your gooey wetness) and you shuffled forwards until your core was hovering above his cock

you slid down slowly, the stretch almost painful but not quite

it took a moment for you to bottom out, his tip snug against your cervix and your thighs resting against his own

the temptation to start bouncing was certainly there, but at the risk of no longer being his good girl, you decided not to

not that you could anyway, not when he brought his arms around you, pinning you to his chest and holding you there like it was just any regular cuddle on any regular day

like his dick wasn’t resting heavily inside of you

like you weren’t so close to disobeying and seeking out your own pleasure

a big hand came up to the back of your head to hold it against his shoulder, fingers lacing themselves in your hair and giving it gentle, rhythmic tugs like he always did when you needed to chill a little

his fingernails scratched against your scalp in a way that was so soothing, it seemed to turn your whole body to jelly

and suddenly, the horny tension that laced itself up within you dissipated like it was never there

well, it wasn’t completely gone - you still had your boyfriends dick in you, after all - but it was duller, more manageable

you moaned as you relaxed into his warmth that surrounded you from every angle possible, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle

“do you get it now, honey?” he whispered into your ear, “do you understand what i mean when i say i want you close?”

you just nod

“oh, you’re so precious, baby,” he gave you a particularly tight squeeze with his thick arms, “so good for me, hm? letting me hold you close like this. i expected it to take you longer to settle down, but you’re such a good girl, right? shouldn’t have doubted you, baby…”

his words made your mind cloud over as you sank into the praise that he spoon fed to you

you just lay there with your head on his shoulder, staring up at him like he was your entire universe, eating up every single word he said to you

“love you, bear,” you mumble into his neck

he chuckled

“love you too, honey.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #jongho headcannons #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #jongho smut

[almond-tofuuu]

Hi I see you're opening request, so I'm here to ask for one. Thank you so much!

Plot: Zayne anger and his punishment when he find out you lied to him and get yourself in dangerous.

anon are you a mind reader?! 👀 bc I've had a draft of this sat in my wip folder for ages!!!

Hope you enjoy!! 💕

Sorry isn't enough...

Zayne x reader

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, no comfort, Zayne is mad (and possibly ooc)

Might do a part 2 (with a happy ending as an apology for this)

Zayne doesn't yell. In fact, in all the time you'd known him you couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Sure he got annoyed with you sometimes, mainly when you ignored his advice or turned up at the hospital with yet another injury, but it never boiled over into anger. He'd scold you like a child, giving the occasional icy glare, but nothing more. So when you limped into his office today, an hour late for your appointment and caked in dirt and dried blood, you were prepared to receive another lecture about safety from your primary care physician.

The minute you opened the door and took the first unsteady step into his office, you knew something was off. The air held an icy chill, causing a shiver to run down your spine, the tension increasing with every step. You could feel the pressure of Zayne's eyes on you as you approached his desk, piercing green gaze scrutinising every aspect of your appearance, taking note of every scrape and bruise, every smudge of blood that stained your skin and clothes.

"You're late." Emotionless and cold, his voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had been present since you entered his office. Swallowing thickly, you finally meet his eyes, and immediately regret it. His expression is hard, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes which usually hold a tenderness whenever he looks at you are dark, and swirling with a storm of fury. Zayne is pissed.

Opening your mouth, the apology on the tip of your tongue quickly dies at the sound of Zayne's exasperated sigh. "If you're planning on apologising I'd suggest you save your breath. I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to whatever feeble excuses you plan on giving." His harsh tone hits you like an avalanche, burying you in the disappointment that is practically radiating from him. "I've warned you time and time again to be careful, to prioritise your safety and yet you seem determined not to listen. I've lost count of how many times you've limped into my office. You refuse to listen to my advice yet you come to me whenever your recklessness results in another injury. Tell me, do you insist on continuing this foolish behaviour until it undoubtedly causes your death?!"

A lump forms in your throat, eyes fixed on the floor as you desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Every cruel word Zayne seethes is another knife to your heart, cutting deep and carving themselves into your flesh. And despite your best efforts, you can't stop the choked sob that escapes your lips. Because it hurts. Seeing the man who has always treated you so gently fuming with rage, steely glare freezing you where you stand, forcing you to endure the brunt of his anger. His words melt together, flooding your mind and making your ears ring as they echo on repeat inside your head. You're so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his disappointment that you don't even realise you're crying until a cold hand touches your cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear. His breath fans your face as he exhales a tired sigh, "come here, let me see your wounds" his voice is softer now, having lost its previous venom but his outburst has left a sour taste in your mouth. You pull away from his touch, shaking your head slightly as you wipe away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"I can take care of it myself...I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further." You utter, keeping your voice steady and void of emotion. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with my reckless behaviour anymore. Goodbye, Dr Zayne." Turning away from him you quickly make your way out of his office, ignoring the calls of your name, determined not to let him see you fall apart completely. With each step you can feel your heart breaking more, bleeding out and flooding your chest with every crushing word Zayne spat at you. You're not sure where you're heading, vision blurring with tears, you just know that the last place you want to be is with Zayne.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lnds zayne #lnds #angst #zayne x you #lnd

[misshoneyimhome]

Omg pleaseeee Don’t Blame Me - “For you, I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind.” With Auston Matthews

Babe, say no more 😉🤍

You know, this idea actually popped into my head a while back for a potential series, but I never got around to writing it down… 🙃 Anyway, I thought it might fit this prompt, even though it doesn't contain all the details 😉

Just to give you a heads up, though, the plot is mainly about cheating, which might not be everyone's cup of tea... but you know, it definitely adds some drama to the story! 🔥

I hope you enjoy it 🤍

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Short summary; When, you, the poised wife of a hockey executive encounter the star forward of the Toronto Maple Leafs, your attraction sparks a tumultuous affair. However, as you navigate secrecy and guilt, will you choose to embrace your forbidden love or face the consequences?

Warnings & tropes; Secret affair (cheating); briefly enemies to friends; friends to lovers; sexual content - unprotected sex (p in v);

Word count; 4.2K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Don't Blame Me - Your Love Made Me Crazy I Auston Matthews 🖋️⚡️🔥

The cool air of the ice hockey arena surrounded you as you navigated through the busy corridors of the Scotiabank Arena. Dressed in a smartly tailored suit appropriate for your role as the wife of one of the investors for Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment (MLSE), you projected an aura of confidence and sophistication. This was now your domain, where the game meant more than just a sport—it was a business, a passion, and a way of life.

However, amidst the crowd of players and staff, one figure stood out—Auston Matthews, the star forward of the Toronto Maple Leafs. His presence seemed to demand attention, his demeanour exuding a blend of determination and intensity that mirrored the game he played.

**

However, like many drama stories, your interactions with Auston began on a less than pleasant note.

In his eyes, you were nothing more than a wealthy socialite who had married into money, and he treated you with scepticism. Likewise, you saw him as an arrogant athlete whose focus rarely extended beyond the hockey rink.

And whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity, the tension was palpable as the two of you exchanged wary glances, each assessing the other with thinly veiled suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" Auston inquired, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity as you crossed paths in the arena hallway.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinising gaze, feeling defensive at the implied judgment in his question. "I'm here to support the team," you replied evenly, masking the irritation simmering beneath the surface.

Auston's lips curled into a smug smirk. "Ah, of course, because I'm sure you're a huge hockey fan," he retorted sarcastically, his words laced with disdain.

You felt a surge of indignation, his words implying more than just a casual insult, igniting a flame of resentment within you. "Surprisingly enough, some of us care about more than just the final score," you retorted sharply, your sarcasm thinly veiled.

Auston's smirk wavered, a flicker of surprise evident in his eyes. "Really?" he responded, his tone almost disbelieving. "And what exactly is it that you care about, apart from mingling with the players?"

You bristled at his dismissive tone, rejecting the notion that you were merely another wealthy socialite seeking amusement. "I actually hold a degree in sports psychology," you countered defiantly, a touch of defiance in your voice. "And I'm here to contribute my expertise to the team, whether you appreciate it or not."

Auston's demeanour softened slightly, a glimmer of genuine interest replacing his earlier scepticism. "Sports psychology, huh?" he pondered, his tone less mocking. "That's at least something."

And surprisingly, you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes at his thinly veiled compliment, opting instead to concentrate on the task at hand. 

It was evident that many of your initial encounters with Auston had been less than ideal, and as he departed, leaving you standing in the hallway, you couldn’t help but scoff at the conceited forward.

Yet, fate had a peculiar way of intertwining lives. As you delved deeper into the nuances of sports psychology, armed with your education and expertise, Auston gradually began to take notice. He witnessed first-hand the subtle yet profound impact your insights had on the team's dynamics, and on their performance both on and off the ice.

And one evening, following an especially demanding practice session, Auston remained behind, his expression a blend of frustration and curiosity. "So, what's the deal with all this psychology stuff anyway?" he inquired, his tone more earnest than accusatory, as he joined you in the locker room while the others continued their workout in the fitness room.

You paused, deliberating your response before replying. "It's about understanding the mind, Auston. How it influences our performance, our reactions, our ability to collaborate as a team."

Auston raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't deny feeling intrigued. "And you actually think all that mumbo jumbo can help us win games?"

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes as you regarded the confident player before you. "I believe it can make a difference. Sometimes, it's not just about physical skills—it's about mental resilience, about finding that extra edge when it matters most."

Auston appeared to gradually grasp the significant role you had come to play for the team, offering you a simple nod before departing, leaving you to your work.

And as weeks passed, you found yourself engaging in more frequent and in-depth conversations with the player, as he began seeking your advice not only on the ice but also off it.

"Hey, uh, mind if I pick your brain for a bit?" he'd inquire, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his mouth, meeting you in one of the small offices, unofficially designated for your use.

And amidst the whirlwind of strategy sessions and pre-game routines, an unexpected bond began to form— a bond that was an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent understanding that there was more to the connection between you and Auston than initially met the eye.

**

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, your presence within the Leafs' inner circle became more prominent, and you found yourself deeply involved in the team's daily routines, from pre-game rituals to post-match analyses. And with each interaction, the bond between you and the players, including Auston, strengthened.

Yet, despite your efforts to maintain professionalism, your communication with Auston had a natural way to evolve into something more personal. You weren’t entirely sure why, but the Arizona boy simply had a knack for breaking down your defences and gradually entering your personal space. And you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it.

For weeks, you shared laughter and began to build inside jokes, slowly blurring the lines between professionalism and friendship.

And, when Auston's banter veered into flirtation, it began to test the boundaries you had established. His playful remarks and charming smiles eroded the walls around your heart, tempting you to yield to the allure of something forbidden.

Yet, you remained resolute in your commitment to your marriage, brushing aside the enticing temptation that Auston represented. But beneath the mask of indifference, a storm brewed—a conflict between duty and desire, loyalty and longing.

And Auston, perspective as ever, began to detect the turmoil simmering within you, as he observed with sharp eyes as you navigated the delicate tightrope between professionalism and personal restraint. In those fleeting moments of vulnerability, he glimpsed the fissures in your facade, the unspoken yearning concealed beneath the surface.

Then one evening, the atmosphere at Mitch’s restaurant was vibrant and animated, the clinking of glasses and laughter echoing through the air as the team gathered for their post-game revelry. Auston felt drawn to you once more, his steps leading him to where you sat at the back of the room, encircled by the familiar faces of his teammates.

Taking a seat beside you, Auston's gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that caught you off guard. "You know, you don't have to pretend with me," he gently whispered in your ear, his voice soft and sincere, so no one would hear.

You tensed at his words, the earnestness in his tone stirring something within you. "I'm not entirely sure what you're getting at," you responded, a touch of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

But Auston's gaze softened, his expression filled with empathy as he reached out to you. "I can see that you’re not happy y/n – that you’re trapped in a marriage that you don’t really want," he said gently. "You deserve to be with someone who wants you, who treats you good."

His words hung in the air, their weight sinking deep into your consciousness. For in Auston's eyes, you glimpsed a reflection of your own longings, mirrored back to you with striking clarity.

“You don’t understand…” you attempted to explain, your voice faltering as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“What don't I understand?” Auston probed, his gaze unwavering as he sought answers in your eyes.

“Marriages aren’t always simple…” you offered weakly, struggling to articulate the turmoil within your heart.

“I know, but there should still be love,” Auston countered, his voice resolute yet gentle.

“I do love him, Auston…” you insisted, the words tasting bitter as they left your lips.

But Auston didn't relent, his gaze piercing as he posed a question that struck at the heart of your conflict. “Are you sure? Then why do you feel attracted to me?”

The question lingered; its weight palpable between you. And for a moment, you grappled with a response, torn between the truth of your desires and the promises you had made.

But with a heavy heart, you instead rose from your seat, making a distance between you and Auston a painful reminder of the boundaries you dared not breach. And as you joined the captain a few paces away, the night progressed, the team's laughter and camaraderie serving as both a comfort and a poignant reminder of the unspoken connection that bound you and Auston.

**

A week later, you found yourself accompanying the team on the road, a suggestion made by the coaching staff who had recognised the importance of your insights, especially in the wake of several consecutive losses. With morale low, your role had become more crucial than ever before, as each player sought to unburden their concerns and frustrations, seeking your guidance to chart a path forward, and you willingly provided a sympathetic ear and professional perspective.

However, one player didn’t approach you until after the official work hours had concluded.

In the dimly lit hotel room, elongated shadows danced across the walls, accompanied only by the soft hum of the air conditioning unit. You reclined on your bed, attempting to ease your mind, yet the players’ worries weighed heavily on your thoughts.

Then a sudden knock shattered the silence, startling you, and with a slightly racing heart, you approached the door, cautiously turning the knob to reveal Auston standing outside, his expression a mix of frustration and agitation.

"Hey," he greeted brusquely, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Can we talk?"

You simply nodded, stepping aside to let him in, as a sense of unease gnawing at you. And as Auston entered the room, his movements were deliberate and tense, his eyes burning with emotion.

"We lost again," he began, his words sharp and succinct, as he stood in the middle of your room. "And I can't shake this feeling that it's all my fault, that I've let the team down."

Your heart went out to him, a wave of empathy washing over you as you gently approached him. "It's not only your fault, Auston," you reassured him, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "You're an exceptional player, one of the best I've seen. Sometimes, things simply don't go as planned."

Auston's gaze softened a little, his defences weakening in the face of your understanding. "I know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But it still sucks, you know? Knowing that I could've done better, that I disappointed everyone."

You slowly drew a little closer to him, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotion. "You're not alone in this, Auston," you murmured softly. "We win together, and we lose together. That's the essence of being a team."

And for a moment, a heavy silence enveloped the room, the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders. Then, almost as if drawn by an invisible force, Auston leaned in towards you, his lips tenderly brushing against yours in a fleeting caress.

You almost froze, panic coursing through your veins as you swiftly pulled away, your heart racing. "Auston, we can't," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Confusion clouded his features, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Why not?" he demanded, his tone tinged with anger. "Don't you feel it too? The connection between us?"

But a form of shy anger seemed to surge within you, mingling with hurt and betrayal. "Of course, I do," you retorted, your voice slightly escalating. "But that doesn't change the fact that this is wrong…"

Auston's gaze hardened, his resolve unwavering. "I can't do this – you’re fucking with me, and I can’t take it," he declared, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "I thought... I thought there was something real between us, but maybe I was wrong."

The hotel room suddenly felt oppressively small as unspoken words hung heavily in the air. You watched as Auston turned to leave, his footsteps echoing on the plush carpet beneath him.

"Auston, wait!" you called out, desperation seeping into your voice, prompting him to halt, his shoulders stiffening at the sound of your plea. 

"What now?" he muttered; frustration evident in his tone.

"I... please don't leave like this..." you trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

Auston turned back to face you, his expression a blend of confusion and frustration. "y/n.. I don't get you! What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice tinged with exasperation.

And tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. "I don't know... I just... I just don't want-" you started, your voice trembling with emotion.

But before you could complete your sentence, Auston closed the gap between you in a single stride, his lips crashing onto yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. His hands firmly cupping your face to keep you close. The world around you faded as you surrendered to the embrace, the intensity of his touch setting your senses ablaze.

And in that moment, as Auston's lips met yours in a sudden surge of passion, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you. Shock, desire, and a hint of desperation swirled together as you melted into his arms, his touch igniting a flame of longing and desire that threatened to consume you entirely.

All the doubts and fears that had haunted you seemed to vanish in the heat of the moment, replaced by an overwhelming rush of raw emotion and unspoken longing.

However, as you succumbed to the overwhelming rush of passion, a voice in the depths of your mind whispered warnings of the inevitable consequences, the fallout of giving in to forbidden love.

So reluctantly, you pulled away, your breaths ragged as you searched Auston's eyes for understanding. "We can't continue like this," you whispered, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

Auston's expression softened, his gaze locking with yours in a silent plea for forgiveness. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But I can't seem to help myself, y/n. I want you."

Guilt tugged at your heartstrings, torn between longing for something more and the weight of impending consequences. "I want you too," you confessed, your voice barely audible. "But I can't bear to keep hurting the people I care about."

Auston's shoulders sagged in resignation, the weight of your words settling heavily upon him. "I know," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "But I don't know how to stop."

And in a moment of vulnerability, as you teetered on the edge of something forbidden and perilous, you knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and obstacles.

“Me neither,” you whispered softly, before pressing your lips fervently against his.

It was a heated, passionate exchange where you surrendered to your deepest desires, allowing raw, primal lust to take control. And as your fingers tangled in his hair, Auston's hands found your lower back, using his size to guide you towards the bed.

The urgency of the moment was palpable as you both hastily shed the layers that separated you, consumed by an overwhelming need for each other. Your lips remained locked in a fervent embrace, only parting briefly to discard clothing, and as Auston eagerly explored your mouth with his tongue he positioned himself over you on the bed.

Hands roamed each other's bodies, exploring every inch of soft skin offered, and you couldn't help but notice Auston's member growing firmer with each deep breath and moan exchanged between hungry kisses.

The atmosphere in the small hotel room grew thick with desire as your moans reverberated, the air heavy with anticipation. And as Auston used his hands to pin yours above your head, you felt the tip of his throbbing length teasing your entrance.

“Auston,” you moaned, the urgency in your voice betraying your growing need for more than just his lips. “Please, make love to me.”

And without hesitation, he obliged.

With determined thrusts, he entered you, filling your depths with his length and stimulating your walls with each movement.

Your moans intertwined as he rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, his motions gentle yet impassioned as he explored every inch of your sensitive flesh.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good around me,” he praised you in a husky voice, his breath hot against your neck as he increased his pace.

And you couldn't deny the overwhelming pleasure of Auston's length inside you. The way his thick cock caressed every part of your sensitive core, the tip of his length hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, leaving you seeing stars.

Then releasing one of your hands, Auston placed his between your heated bodies, finding your clit and circling it with skilled precision. And his actions brought you nothing but closer to the brink of an orgasm. The pleasure of climax built within you, intensified by Auston's increasing thrusts and his expert touch on your sensitive bud.

“Yes, Auston, please, I’m close,” you moaned, your voice harmonising with the rhythm of his thrusts. And with a few more moments, you finally closed your eyes, arched your back, and cried out his name as you reached the peak of ecstasy.

Your mind clouded with sensation as Auston maintained his steady rhythm, feeling his own climax approaching as you tightened around him. And with a swift motion, he released his grip, pulling out momentarily, eliciting a soft sigh from you, before forcefully turning you over onto your stomach and re-entering you.

You let out a surprised moan as he filled you once more, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room.

“Oh, yes,” Auston moaned between heavy breaths, his thrusts growing increasingly intense. And as the pressure built within him, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer, releasing a deep grunt as he spilled his seed into your depths. As he emptied himself inside you, the two of you released deep breaths and sighs, slowly emerging from the euphoric haze of climax.

It was a moment suffused with intense passion, yet as Auston left your room, you couldn't shake the feeling of needing a long shower to wash away the sense of dirtiness and filth that lingered. 

**

As days melted into weeks, the tumultuous dance between you and Auston persisted, fuelled by a potent blend of desire, guilt, and longing. Despite the rational voice of conscience clamouring within you, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

Each stolen moment with him ignited a fire within you, a blaze of passion that consumed your every thought and desire. The thrill of the forbidden, the danger of being caught—it only added to the allure, heightening the intensity of your shared experiences.

With every win and every loss for the team, the bond between you and Auston deepened, transcending the confines of reason and morality. It was as if the highs and lows of the game mirrored the highs and lows of your illicit affair, each victory a triumph of desire, each defeat a bitter reminder of the forbidden nature of your love.

Naturally, guilt lingered at the edges of your conscience, a constant reminder of the vows broken, and trust betrayed. Yet, in Auston's arms, all thoughts of remorse faded, replaced by a desperate yearning for solace, for an escape from the wreckage of your marriage.

He had become your drug, and you found yourself hopelessly addicted to him.

Nights at the Scotiabank Arena became your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of your crumbling life. While your husband immersed himself in his work and business meetings, you sought solace in the arms of another. With each passing night, the boundaries between right and wrong blurred until they were mere echoes of a reality long forgotten. In the darkness of Auston's bedroom, you found moments of pleasure, fleeting ecstasy in a world torn apart by deceit and desire.

But even as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of your forbidden love, a nagging voice whispered in the depths of your soul—a voice warning of the inevitable reckoning, of the price you would pay for your transgressions.

Yet, in the heat of passion, such concerns faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming need for the man who had become your addiction, your obsession, your everything.

**

Yet, on another night, you found yourself back on the side-lines of a match, then lingering in the locker room after all the players had departed. All but one.

The locker room was dimly lit, heavy with the scent of sweat and anticipation as Auston's lips met yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, his hands exploring eagerly over your body as he lifted you up, pressing you against the cold, hard surface of the wall. Caught up in the heat of the moment, you surrendered to the overwhelming rush of desire, your senses consumed by the intoxicating taste of his tongue, the feel of his strong arms enveloping you.

And as the kiss deepened, the world around you faded away, leaving only the electric current of desire pulsing between you. His lips moved with a hunger that mirrored your own, his hands tracing urgent paths over your bottom.

"Shit, I've wanted this all day," Auston murmured against your lips, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart raced as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment, every touch igniting a wildfire of longing within you. "Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

However, unbeknownst to you, your husband had chosen this night to attend a game, seeking to understand why you had been so consumed by your work with the team for months. And as he stood just beyond the threshold, silently witnessing the betrayal unfolding before his eyes, the truth dawned on him.

But lost in the heat of passion, you were oblivious to his presence, drowning your guilt in the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume you entirely.

It was only later, upon returning home, that the full weight of your betrayal crashed down upon you.

The air between you and your husband was thick with tension as you faced each other, his accusing gaze weighing heavily upon you. His words pierced the silence like a knife, each one carrying the sting of betrayal.

"How could you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with pain and disbelief. "How could you betray me like this?"

You tried to speak, to offer some explanation for your actions, but the words failed you, suffocated by guilt and shame.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all along? Sleeping with hockey players behind my back?”

And in that moment, as the reality of your actions sank in, you knew there was no turning back, no undoing the damage. As silence enveloped you both, a chasm of pain and regret widened between you, leaving behind only the shattered remnants of a love that could never be repaired.

**

With the final signature inked on the paper, the reality of your separation loomed ahead, and despite the uncertainty of what lay beyond, you held onto the belief that it was the right decision.

Love for your husband had faded long ago and clinging onto a hollow semblance of a relationship felt unjust to both of you.

So, as each party fulfilled their obligations, you found yourself at a crossroads, uncertain of what the future held. But one thing remained clear: you needed to discover if Auston's feelings mirrored your own.

Then with a heavy heart and nerves frayed, you made your way to the condo where you'd shared your deepest desires, and as Auston greeted you with a concerned gaze, he feared the worst as he noticed your sorrowful expression. Perhaps you were here to end things, to focus on rebuilding your marriage, he thought. 

However, as the words left your lips, a sense of relief washed over him.

"It's over, Auston," you managed a soft smile, despite the tears in your eyes. "My marriage is over."

And in that moment, Auston realised the depth of his feelings for you. The fear that you might not want him, only to be met with the revelation that you had chosen him.

“Finally.” 

With love swelling in his heart, he welcomed you into his home, embracing the freedom to love you openly.

As you found solace in his arms, the weight of the past dissolved, leaving only the promise of a future brimming with love and possibility. Entwined together, you faced the uncertainties ahead, fortified by a love that conquered all obstacles.

#my asks #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey imagine #auston matthews smut

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

The Woes of Weddings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

You can read the first part, The Woes of Betrothals, but it’s not necessary to read it to understand the plot :) 

Synopsis: Your wedding with Prince Aemond draws near. 

Warnings: fluff, so. much. fluff, p in v sex, tiddy succin’, oral (f! receiving), and fingering, slight impreg kink?? (if i missed out anything someone please tell me I’m too sleep deprived for this), jace shaming (on aemond’s part) 

Word Count: 5K words 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: You asked for a sequel to The Woes of Betrothals...and you got it. Featuring my first time writing smut 👀 I’m still improving on my smut writing skills, so please don’t laugh (I spent like five hours pouring about the specifics of smut writing too so) 😳 (see end of chapter for more A/N) 

wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics as always! 

‘By the gods,’ you swore silently to yourself, watching the scene unfold before you, ‘I did not think that I could have anticipated anything quite as worrisome as this.’ 

Your wedding day was in less than a week’s time, and your anxiety was just reaching breaking point. 

You stood uncomfortably on a slightly raised dais, attempting to keep as still as possible while the seamstresses around you fussed with the measurements of your wedding gown and cloak, adjusting it to perfection. You were unsuccessful in your regard, as you occasionally winced from the sharp sting of a needle poking your skin. Helaena sat in one corner of the room, observing the proceedings with a dreamy smile, which you returned. But it was the presence of the Queen Alicent that made you feel a little discomfited. Though the Queen was watching the scene with a smile, you saw glimmer of sorrow in her eyes every now and then, though it was quickly masked by her usual veneer of geniality. You wondered with a small blip of terror if the Queen was having second thoughts of wedding you to her beloved second son, but your worries were soon soothed with the thoughts of your beloved. You had greatly enjoyed the time you had both spent over the past few weeks: he had been nothing but a consummate gentleman and lover, nothing like the rumours of the cold prince you were once deceived by. Even now, thinking of your beloved, you had a rosy tinge to your cheeks and a smile on your face, despite the sting of the needles. You simply could not wait to discover what marital bliss your marriage will bring. 

In another room, Aemond was faring far better than his fair lady was. Despite the rather unneeded presence of his grandsire in the room, scrutinising every move the tailors made, Aemond found himself to be quite far away from current happenings. His mind kept wandering back to his lady, and the sheer elation he felt that he would be wedding her in less than a week. It had been nearly a moon’s turn since he had confessed his true feelings to her, and every day since then has felt like a dream he never wished to wake from. He thought he would never experience more happiness as he had when he had claimed Vhagar, but this…it was a different sort of joy entirely. A contentment far more peaceful, and he found that he preferred this contentment to the hot blooded rush of triumph and adrenaline every time he rode Vhagar or won in his sparring jousts with Ser Criston. 

The both of you had spent the past few weeks spending nearly every waking moment with each other: you watching him train at arms with a wide smile on your lovely face that never ceased to spur him on, which always made Ser Criston raise his eyebrows in both amusement and a sort of pride; both of you discussing histories and philosophies in the library, where Aemond had discovered your passion for dissecting philosophical theology, much to his delight; strolling in the gardens and watching you blush with joy whenever he picked a flower and put it in your hair. He had also made it a custom to bring you a hand-picked bouquet of flowers every day, utterly enchanted by the near ethereal glow of happiness on his lady’s face every time he presented the bouquet to you. If he were a better painter, he would have asked you to sit for a portrait. Alas. Well, he could always commission the best painter in Westeros to do so, although he wasn’t quite sure if they would be able to capture your essence. 

Aemond sometimes thought it foolish that he had fallen in love so hastily, and so deeply at that. But he realised that when he woke up thinking about your smile and went to sleep every night thinking about how to make you smile even wider the next morrow, that no matter how much of a fool’s folly this may be, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He could not wait to be wedded to you. 

The merry toll of bells resounded throughout King’s Landing, as nearly every single noble lord and lady gathered before the Iron Throne to celebrate the wedding of Prince Aemond Targaryen to his much cherished bride. 

Aemond fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sleeves, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a young child. He had never really liked crowds, despite being a Prince. Helaena, who was standing next to him, separating him from a probably drunk Aegon, patted his arm reassuringly. Aemond turned his head to shoot her a small, grateful smile, just as trumpets heralded the entrance of the bride. 

The courtiers turned their head to the doors, and gasps rippled through the crowd as they beheld the bride. Aemond felt as though he had lost all capability to function. 

There you were, gliding towards him in a gown of white, looking like a vision of the Maiden herself. Delicate spirals of gold and flowers adorned the thick brocade and silk of your gown, a thick cloak of your House’s colours draped snugly across your shoulders. You were escorted down the aisle by your lord father, who was beaming with pride while shedding some very non-discrete tears. Aemond felt like weeping himself, and Helaena was tearing up a little herself. 

When you reached the end of the aisle, your father removed the cloak from your shoulders, kissing you on your forehead, before entrusting your hand to Aemond, your beloved, who looked extremely dashing in his intricately tailored white wedding clothes. “Take care of my daughter, Your Grace,” your father said tearfully. Aemond gave the man a nod, “I will love her till the end of my days, my lord. Have no fear.” Then, Aemond turned to face you, a wide smile on his face, as he draped a heavy cloak of black and red across your shoulders. “My princess, my lady wife,” he whispered softly to you, caressing your hand in his. You smiled back at him, “My prince. My lord husband.” The both of you walked to the septon, pure joy emanating from your faces, as he officially pronounced the both of you man and wife, much to the raucous cheers of the crowd behind you. 

The wedding feast was underway, and laughter and merriment was abound. For your first dance, you were whirled around the room by your husband, whose smile had not left his face since the moment he saw you. “I find it difficult to believe this is your first time waltzing, husband,” you said incredulously. “You are as nimble and graceful as any other lord in the room.” Aemond laughed softly, “Believe it or not, my lady, it is the first.” “But why?” you questioned, as Aemond twirled you around. Aemond looked hesitant, before answering softly, “Perhaps it was because I’ve never found the right dancing partner, until now.” You blushed, unsure of how to answer back, when Prince Jacaerys cut in, gallantly asking you for a dance, which you happily granted. What you did not notice however, was Aemond clenching his jaw as he watched you being whisked away by Lord Strong, but he shoved down the overbearing urge to punch the bastard in his face. ‘My love would be unhappy if I ruined our night,’ he kept repeating to himself, although he clenched his fists when he returned to the table and Aegon shot him a smirk, having saw everything. “Weren’t you drowning yourself in your cups, brother?” Aemond narrowed his eyes at him. “And weren’t you dancing with your bride? Oh wait,” Aegon said mockingly, “You’ve been forsaken for Jace once more.” 

Now Aegon was the one Aemond wished to punch. But he took a deep breath, not wanting to cause any conflict on such a joyous night. It wasn’t worth it to get riled up over Aegon’s japes, it never was. However, Aemond felt miserable as he watched you getting twirled around by Jace, laughing with him, instead of him. No matter, in the end, it was him that was your husband, not the Strong bastard, nor anyone else. 

You were a little out of breath, after being asked to dance by three other lords after Prince Jacaerys. Now, you were exhausted, and wished nothing more than to return to your husband’s side and converse with him, particularly about…You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought. Of your wedding night. 

Spotting your husband sitting at the head table, you began to make your way towards him, but you were stopped by a familiar figure swathed in Hightower green. “Your Grace,” your eyes widened, before you dropped to a curtsey. Queen Alicent looked down at you with a smile, “At ease, please, we are family now, after all. You should address me as Mother instead.” You straightened, looking unsure as you glanced at your husband, who had already noticed you being accosted by his mother and was looking a little concerned. “Of course, Your Gr- I mean, Mother,” you said hesitantly. Queen Alicent’s smile turned a little warmer, “You may relax, dear, I merely wanted to have a conversation with you, from mother to daughter-in-law. Would you mind having a drink with me?” 

“I would be honoured, Your Grace.” Queen Alicent swept towards her seat at the head of the table, you following obediently behind her, but not before looking to your husband for guidance, and perhaps some help. As you passed by Aemond, he squeezed your hand in a reassuring gesture, which made your nerves sooth a little. ‘I can do this’, you chanted in your head, ‘tis only the Queen after all. And we are family now, this sort of thing is inescapable.’ Queen Alicent gestured for you to take a seat, as the servants began pouring wine into your goblets. “I trust you understand what would happen after the wedding feast, yes?” You fought the urge to blush, as you answered, “Yes, Your- Mother. Septa Marlow has kindly instructed me on the matter.” The Queen nodded approvingly, “Good, then we can move on to the other matter I wish to speak of then.” You were startled, what other matter could the Queen wish to speak of with you? 

The Queen took a sip of her wine, and for the first time, you noticed a certain sort of apprehension in her expression. The Queen said your name carefully, before asking, “Are you happy with my son?” You were struck by her sudden question, but you answered truthfully, “Yes, I am. He’s chivalrous, kind, and I have no doubt he would be a loving husband. I couldn’t have found a better husband.” The Queen smiled, but there was a certain bitterness in it. “You do not know how it warms my heart to hear you say so. Among my sons, I cherish Aemond the most. Though he may be…impassioned at times, my son is a good man. And it pleases me so that he is lucky enough to have found a wonderful woman such as you as his wife. I am certain that you will both have a happy union.” You blinked, taken aback by the scale of her compliments, “Thank you, my Queen. You flatter me, truly.” Suddenly, Aemond appeared next to you, hand on your shoulder as he greeted his mother. “Mother, if I may, I must steal my wife away for the moment. It is nearly time for the bedding ceremony.” 

“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about that.” The Queen laughs, standing up. She pecked her son on the cheek, “Well, the both of you best be off to your bedchambers then. I will await for the both of you to break fast with me on the morrow.” Aemond inclined his head and smiled tenderly at his mother, “Of course, Mother. I bid you good night.” When the Queen had walked away, Aemond gave you a sheepish smile, “Did my mother trouble you in any way?” You shook your head, though you were still reeling a little at the oddity of your conversation with the Queen. “No, my love…she only wished to express her congratulations to our union.” 

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief, the tension seeping out of his muscles. “I’m glad to hear that.” He lowered his head to whisper huskily in your ear, “Now…how scandalous do you think it would be if I swept you into my arms right now and carried you to our bedchambers to consummate our marriage?” You looked at him with a mix of amusement and mortification, trying to discern how serious he was being. “I think we would be unable to show our face in court for nigh a moon’s turn.” 

Aemond sighed mournfully, “A shame then….that I do not much care for that.” With that, he scooped you up into his arms, grinning wolfishly at your shriek of surprise and the bemused and intrigued looks the rest of the court was giving the both of you. “Please, continue to enjoy the feast, my lords and ladies. Tonight, I wish to express to my lady wife how elated I am at our union.” You heard Prince Aegon whistle at Aemond’s antics, and you buried your face in Aemond’s chest, unable to face the crowd as he carried you out the throne room. When the both of you reached your bedchambers, Aemond set you down gently, and smiled, “Was that too much?” 

“Very much so,” you admitted, feeling your face burn. Aemond found it rather adorable that you were so embarrassed. “I do not think I can face anybody in court for the next few weeks.” Aemond laughed, sweeping you into an embrace and kissing you on the forehead, “Worry not, my love. If things go as planned…I can assure you you will not be leaving our bedchambers for a moon’s turn.” 

You gaped, a little awestruck at your husband’s newfound boldness. He seemed to have transformed greatly from the shy, yet affectionate prince you had been spending your time with, into a confident, and evidently starved man, who was scanning you with such a greedy gleam in his lone violet eye that made a strange heat flare in your abdomen. His hands on your waist, he leaned in to whisper to you, “I trust you know what that entails?” You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment, gazing up at his eye, which was clouded over in reverence and lust. “Good,” he whispered, “Now, would you allow your husband to unlace your bodice and help you out of your gown?” You nodded meekly. He smiled tenderly at you, turning you around and getting to work undoing your laces. You gasped when you felt your husband plant a kiss onto your exposed neck. “Are you nervous, my love?” Aemond asked sweetly, finally loosening the last laces of your dress.

“Yes…” you murmured softly, feeling anxiety begin to build in you as Aemond began to tug off your gown. “I’ve…I’ve never…” 

Aemond turned you around to face him again, your bodice hanging around your waist by now, and his breathing was growing more erratic by the second. But his expression was loving as he said, “I know, my love. I know. I don’t want you to worry, all you need to do is lay there and allow me to give you your pleasure. Is that alright?” “But I wish to please you too,” you protested softly. Aemond took your hand in his and planted a kiss to the back of it, his gaze never leaving yours. “To be able to bring you pleasure is the greatest satisfaction I could ever want for, my love. Now…” He finally undresses you, making quick work of your smallclothes. 

The first sight of your bare form has him questioning if he had truly died and went to heaven. You were the most marvellous sight he had ever laid eyes upon: your skin smooth and glowing in the firelight, your gait shy, legs pressed together to hide the growing arousal he had no doubt was pooling between your thighs. “Oh, my love…” 

“Why? Is there something wrong?” you ask worriedly. Aemond shook his head, cupping your cheeks softly. “On the contrary, nothing has felt more right.” He directed you to sit on the bed, and you watched, riveted as he began to undress himself, his eye never leaving your face. He wanted to savour every single expression that graced your features tonight. When he had stripped himself off his doublet and smallclothes, you couldn’t help but admire the sight before you. He was majestic, his frame lithe and muscled. You let out a small gasp when you saw some scars littering his abdomen, tracing your fingers over them. His affectionate gaze followed you as you did. “How did you get these?” you asked quietly, looking up at your husband again. He smiled, threading a hand through your hair, “Just some scars from training at arms, my love. I wasn’t quite as proficient with the sword when I was younger, you know.” You continued tracing over them gently, almost reverently. “Do you…think they’re ugly?” Aemond asked quietly. You shook your head fervently, which made Aemond feel relieved. “Of course not, my love! Like my father likes to say, all scars tell of a story of failure, and how you managed to overcome them.” Aemond looked bemused, “Well, your father was very wise.” Aemond gently pushed your hands away, hands moving to his belt. “But enough of this talk, I think I’m neglecting the main purpose of the night: which is to lavish upon my beautiful wife all the attention she rightfully deserves.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but you soon felt your mouth running dry as Aemond undid his belt and shucked off his pants. You had seen an illustration of a man’s…cock several times, when you had the misfortune of stumbling upon a copy of ‘A Caution for Young Girls’ and several rather raunchy books by Grand Maester Elysar. But that all seemed like child’s play compared to the man before you. “Aemond, I…” you shut your mouth for fear of blurting out something that was very indecent, although from your state of undress, decency was the furthest thing from your mind now. 

Aemond chuckled, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek gently. “Are you impressed by what you see, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked teasingly. “Nuha jorrāelagon?” you wrinkled your forehead in a most adorable display. “It means my love in High Valyrian. I think that’s more unique than simply calling you my love in the Common Tongue. You deserve nothing but the most special things, after all. Which is why-” Your eyes widened as Aemond got onto his knees before you, grinning up at you mischievously. “I plan to make this the most memorable wedding night in history.” 

“I-” you were cut off as Aemond began lavishing kisses on your breasts and chest, fingers nimbly flicking at your sensitive nipples. “Oh, Aemond!” you cried out, as his mouth replaced his fingers, gripping tightly onto his shoulders. “Mmm, and here I thought I would never hear a sweeter sound from your lips,” Aemond hummed gently against your skin, the sensation nearly driving you crazy. “Keep them coming, ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

You gasped as you felt Aemond gently prying your legs apart, exposing your soaked cunny to him. Within a heartbeat, his fingers grazed over your cunt, making you cry out and arch your back. “My love-” You were interrupted by the sensation of Aemond inserting a finger inside of you, while his hot mouth was still sucking at your erect nipples. Your husband was a fan of interrupting you, it seems. “How does that feel, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked in a sultry tone. “Good?” 

“Yes, so good. So, so good,” you moaned out, nails digging into Aemond’s shoulder as he added a second finger and began pumping a little faster, encouraged by how wet your cunt was becoming for him. He grinned devilishly, moving his mouth from your nipples to your neck. You let out another cry as you felt Aemond’s teeth sink into the soft flesh just above your collarbone, before immediately soothing it over with his tongue. Aemond let out a groan as he felt you becoming even wetter as he left love bites across your neck, he didn’t even know it was possible for him to get even more turned on by how aroused you were getting from the pain. His cock was growing even more painfully hard by the second, and he gritted his teeth, trying to will himself to calm down. ‘This night is about her pleasure,’ he told himself sternly, ‘You can have your pleasure later, when she is satisfied first.’ 

You let out a whine as you felt Aemond remove his fingers, but a moan soon replaced whatever complaints you had when Aemond latched his tongue onto your cunt, licking and slurping at your juices like a starved man. Digging your fingers into Aemond’s shoulder, you felt an unfamiliar sensation begin building in your stomach as Aemond’s tongue began flicking and sucking at your clit, making you squirm. Aemond kept one firm hand on your thigh, while the other wandered up to play with your breasts. “Aemond…Aemond!” you cried out as you felt your “peak” (Coryanne Wylde had described that in A Caution For Young Girls) hit you, making your orgasm gush out all over Aemond’s tongue. Aemond groaned, feeling his cock become painfully hard as he watched you climax right before him. He continued devouring your cunt, determined to make you orgasm again. The taste of you was just too sweet that he had to have you come undone on his tongue again. You moaned and cried out, writhing as you felt the sensation building up in your stomach again. Your second peak came much sooner this time, in part due to how sensitive your clit was. Aemond dutifully lapped up every last drop of your juices, sucking at your clit before withdrawing and wiping his mouth with a grin. You looked completely blissed out, if not a bit lost as to what had happened. “Are you alright, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked softly, hands caressing your thighs. You nodded shyly, and Aemond smirked. “Good.” 

You yelped as Aemond pushed you onto the bed, your back hitting the sheets with a soft thump. The cool silk sheets were a welcome contrast to your burning skin, as Aemond grabbed your legs and hooked them around his waist. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, his kiss nothing like the chaste ones you had shared before. This kiss was messy, filled with lustful need, as he eagerly delved into your mouth with his tongue, fighting the urge to smirk when he heard you moan helplessly into his mouth at the pleasure. And it was about to get better for you, and for him as well. 

You were breathing heavily as Aemond finally broke your intense kiss, looking up at your husband like he was a god. You noticed a hungry gleam in his eye as he leaned in to whisper, “This might hurt a bit, ñuha jorrāelagon. But I swear, the pleasure will overtake the pain soon enough. Do you trust me?” 

You gulped, but you tried to put on a brave face as you replied,  “I trust you, my love..” Aemond bent down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Just hold on to me, alright?” 

Your brows furrowed, but you squeezed your eyes shut in pain at the next moment, when you felt your husband’s cock slip between your folds and inside you. You cried out, the discomfort jarring you as he gradually sunk into you, letting you get used to his huge size. Aemond stroked your cheek softly, kissing away the tears that had formed at your eyes. “It’s alright, ñuha jorrāelagon. It will get better, I promise.” And he was right, you felt the pain ebb away slowly, replaced by a yearning for Aemond to move inside of you. “Aemond,” you whispered, “Husband. Could you move, please?” 

Aemond smiled tenderly at you. “With pleasure, ābrazȳrys.” He slowly rolled his hips, and you felt your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. “Oh…feels so good, my love.” Aemond chuckled softly, moving in and out of you in a leisurely pace, enjoying the sight before him. “I’m glad to hear that, ñuha jorrāelagon. I’m going to pick up the pace now, is that alright?” You nodded, desperate to relieve the ache you felt. Aemond kissed you on the nose, before speeding up, causing your eyes to roll back. “Seven hells,” Aemond swore, panting a little, “You’re so tight for me. So perfect.” You moaned at his words, feeling a hot wave of shame, but also arousal wash over you. His words were so filthy…but you wanted to hear more of it. Aemond moved even faster, his own pleasure overtaking whatever rational thought he had about taking it slow. You whimpered when you felt him hit a spongy spot, tightening your grip on his shoulder at how deep he was going. 

“I love you so much, you know,” Aemond panted out, his silver hair now in disarray and his forehead beaded with sweat as he thrusted inside you. “More than anything in the world. I never thought it was possible for me to love someone to this extent, but you…with you, everything feels possible. I would move mountains for you, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You bit your lip, touched by his words. Moving your hand to the strap of his eyepatch, you murmured, “May I?” Aemond swallowed, feeling reluctant for you to see his actual face, to see the ugly scar that tormented him constantly. But you seemed so genuine, so earnest, that he could only nod stiffly. You pulled it off, setting the eyepatch aside, and ran your finger gently on his scar. You beheld the sight of his sapphire eye without much fear, or disgust, both reactions that Aemond had been fearing, and he let out a sigh of relief, leaning down to kiss you again, before trailing his lips onto your neck and collarbone. 

“You are truly wondrous, ñuha jorrāelagon, do you know that? You make me want to learn every little thing about you…all your likes, your dislikes, what makes you beam and what makes you tick…I just want to never stop learning about you.” Aemond whispered against your skin. “No other books in the world, both known and unknown, could measure up to the enchanting goddess that is you, ñuha jorrāelagon. I love you, so much.” 

You moaned softly, moving to tug at Aemond’s hair as he left more love bites on your neck. “I love you too, Aemond. From now, till the end of our days. You are the sun in my universe. No, more than that. You are my moon, my light, my reason to keep breathing. You are everything to me.” 

Aemond groaned softly, feeling his own release getting closer as he listened to your declaration of love. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Thank you for not turning away from me. For loving me. For not seeing me as lesser than.” You tilted your head upwards to give him a tender smooch on the lips. “You never need to thank me for loving you, Aemond. You are deserving of it. And I promise to show you all the love that you deserve throughout our marriage.” And that was the final straw for Aemond. With a throaty moan, he spilled inside of you, feeling your walls clench around him as he did. You followed shortly after, reaching your third climax of the night as you arched your back in pleasure. Aemond continued thrusting inside you, letting you ride out your peak, as he kissed you fervently. You tangled your hands in his hair, moaning into his mouth. After a while, Aemond finally ceased moving in you, pulling out of you. He broke your kiss and pecked you on the forehead, “Wait here, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You watched, confused, as Aemond disappeared, returning with a wet cloth. He sat next to you, cleaning up the mess of fluids on your thighs, where you noticed a small spot of blood on the sheets. ‘My maidenhood,’ you thought, chewing on your bottom lip. ‘It seems I am well and truly a woman now.’ You watched with wide eyes as Aemond kissed up your thighs softly, before pushing his fingers inside your cunny again, causing you to gasp out. “It’s to make sure my seed isn’t wasted, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Aemond explained, stroking your skin softly. “I hope that it’ll get you with child a little sooner.” 

You felt your cheeks flush as he planted a final kiss over your cunt, smirking as he murmured, “I would like nothing more than to see your belly swell with my child, ñuha jorrāelagon. I am sure that you would be a wonderful mother.” 

He then disposed of the cloth, settling next to you on the bed comfortably and taking you into his embrace. “Did I hurt you anywhere, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked you with a concerned look on his face. You smiled reassuringly, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me anywhere.” “I’m glad,” he smiled, before his expression turned coy. “And was everything to your satisfaction, ñuha jorrāelagon?” You laughed, “It was everything the romance novels promised.” That answer pleased him, and he swept you into another kiss, his thumb swiping across your cheekbones. 

‘And so, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen took Lady Y/N of House Y/H/N to bride in 126 AC, and all who witnessed their nuptials agreed that the match was well made, indeed. Prince Aemond and Lady Y/N’s union would prove to be both happy and fruitful, bringing forth five children: three sons and two daughters.’ 

-from the chronicles of Fire and Blood, on the reign of Viserys the Peaceful, written by Archmaester Gyldayn.

translations: ābrazȳrys - wife, ñuha jorrāelagon - my love 

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy @sylas-the-grim​ 

if you wish to be added to the taglist for all my aemond-related works, you can tell me in the comments or through this form :) 

A/N: And that’s part 2! I hope the people who requested for one are happy with this haha 💗 I’m also thinking if I should turn this into a domestic fluff Aemond series lol, what do you guys think? If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading! If you liked this one shot, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated xxx

#aureliawrites #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x oc #hotd x reader

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Two broken pieces

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: thank you so much @gemini-mama and @st-eve-barnes for helping me to overcome my doubts. I appreciate your feedback and comments enourmously. I've never written anything like this before, so I was (I still am) very insecure about posting this

Summary: plot? never heard of it, pure smut with some minor good old pole-dancer/whore meeting a successeful businessman background story (oh my gosh, it sounds so like Pretty Woman 😅)

Please read the warnings!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sub & dom dynamics, slapping, restraining, orgasm denial, slight degradation, oral (m receiving), p in v sex

Word Count: 5,3 K

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list - write to me.

The black velvet blazer fit him perfectly, contrasting with the casually unbuttoned, dazzling white shirt. His stern, piercing gaze, accentuated by mismatched eyes, seemed to penetrate through the TV screen. The impeccably groomed goatee and dark hair pulled back into a bun added to his image of rugged, almost intimidating masculinity. And those rings—wow. You exhaled deeply as your eyes drifted to his hands; thick metal rings adorned his fingers, complemented by weighty bracelets around his wrist. It had been your suggestion to hire a stylist for his public appearances, and it had evidently paid off.

It was Sihtric Kjartansson, the youngest CEO in the history of Dunholm Holdings, one of the most feared and envied figures in the stock market. A corporate raider, he acquired, dismantled, and sold companies with unprecedented profit margins. A quick and ruthless predator with an uncanny knack for timing—trading like a Wall Street shark, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country, and your fiancé, was addressing the press about his latest acquisition: a renowned family business rumoured to be facing financial difficulties.

You settled back into the large, brown leather chair, tilting your head to the side as you scrutinised his face. Pure calmness emanated from him, not a muscle twitching in his handsome, sharply defined features. His steady, firm voice cut through the whirl of voices as he, with a playful smirk on his lips, selected reporters to field questions, pointing at them nonchalantly with his index finger. You knew him too well to be deceived by that perfect facade. You could discern it in his eyes—the dark, almost empty gaze, the absent and inward look, the tapping of fingers against the desk on the rostrum, betraying his underlying agitation.

You rose from your seat and made your way to the table, retrieving your phone and waiting. In the background, the TV murmured, and you recognized the unmistakable Irish-accented voice of Finan—Sihtric’s right-hand man and long-standing friend—announcing the end of the press conference and expressing gratitude to everyone. One, two, three... you counted, and just as you drew breath to resume, the phone rang. You answered it promptly.

“Hey, I saw you,” you whispered softly, bringing the phone closer to your ear. You wanted him to know that you had been watching, that you knew how he felt.

"I need you," came the hoarse voice from the other end, tinged with frustration and impatience.

"I'm waiting. You have 30 minutes," you replied, the shift in your tone from gentle to assertive prompting a groan from the caller.

"I'm on the other side of the city; I can't make it in 30 minutes," Sihtric's voice carried a hint of alarm.

"Then I suggest you not waste your time," you purred, moving the phone away from your ear and pressing the red button to end the call.

Pausing for a moment, you regarded the phone in your hand, before searching for another number and dialling.

"Hey, Finny! You both pulled it off again," you exclaimed into the phone.

"Hey! Yeah, the contract is signed. Negotiations were tough, though. Sihtric handled most of it, as usual. You know him," Finan's voice sounded proud but fatigued.

"How difficult was it?"

"On a scale from 1 to 10, it was a 12. They treated us like a charity organisation, so Sihtric had to be exceptionally firm, but he handled it flawlessly. You know how ruthless he can be in business. You should have seen him, babydoll," Finan continued, and you smirked at his choice of words. "Why don't you give him a call? The press conference just ended."

"Okay, I'll do that! Bye!" you ended the call with a pensive smile. Finan had provided all the necessary details; now you knew what to anticipate, and you had half an hour to prepare.

"Be reasonable, there's no way I can—" the sound of short beeps in Sihtric’s ear signalled that you had hung up. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath, tucking his phone away in the back pocket of his jeans and casting a worried glance at his watch.

"Where is my car?" he barked at the pale-faced assistant beside him. Sihtric never bothered to remember their names; they changed too often. Not a single one had lasted longer than a few months. It was annoying; the youth these days lacked resilience.

He recalled his own beginnings as a personal assistant to Uhtred, one of the biggest Wall Street whales of his time. Freshly graduated as the top in his class, he had thought he knew everything about business and economics. What a fool he had been! There was no regulated working time, no weekends, no holidays. "Stock markets don't sleep," Uhtred had taught him. And he didn't complain; he just learned, absorbing all the strategies, all the advice, everything his boss could offer. He would have followed him to hell and back if needed. That was the real-life education, and that was what had brought him to where he was now.

"I'll call the driver right away, Mr. Kjartansson. You didn't mention you needed the car directly after the press conference," the youngster stammered, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.

"Useless idiot," Sihtric snorted in growing frustration. "Did you think I'm going to walk home or what?"

"Why do you always have to pick such brainless idiots?" Sihtric shouted to Finan, who appeared just around the corner.

"Because nobody in this damn city wants to work for you anymore," Finan snorted back. "They're all terrified of you. And you're not making it any easier." Finan approached his friend, placing a calming hand on Sihtric's shoulder. "The last one quit because you wanted to throw knives at him."

"I didn't actually want to throw knives at him; I just asked him to hold the target. I needed a distraction, to come up with that perfect strategy to ram the gates of that shipbuilding company," Sihtric objected with a shrug.

"Yeah, sure," Finan smirked, suppressing a chuckle. He wanted to add something more, but the pale-faced assistant, with evident black rings under his eyes, interjected, announcing that Mr. Kjartansson's car was waiting. Sihtric promptly turned on his heels and headed towards the doors, casually waving goodbye to his friend as he departed.

"Damn it, " Sihtric growled in frustration. "Can't you move any faster?"

"Sir, we're completely stuck. Nothing's budging. Looks like there's been an accident or something blocking the road," the driver gestured towards the long line of cars ahead.

Sihtric glanced at his watch again, nervously tugging at his collar.

"Why the hell didn't you choose another route? I'll walk! And don't expect me to pay for the extra time you'll be stuck in this traffic jam. It's your own fault," Sihtric bellowed, swinging the door open.

"But, Sir..." the driver's attempt to protest was silenced by Sihtric's furious glare. "Shut up, or you can start looking for another job," Sihtric growled, slamming the door shut with such force that the driver flinched in his seat.

Sihtric unbuttoned another button of his shirt and began to stride away, his long, hurried steps quickly escalating into a near run. He was inevitably going to be late.

The silence that enveloped him as Sihtric finally swung open the doors of his house was almost eerie. After casting an inquisitive glance around the spacious living room and the adjoining open kitchen, he checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time and swallowed hard. He took off his shoes and socks. Slipping off his chic velvet blazer, he casually tossed it over his shoulder and began to ascend the stairs to the second floor.

The house was expansive; while the first floor boasted only the immensely large living room with its breathtaking view of the garden and the kitchen, the second floor comprised several bedrooms with attached bathrooms and walk-in closets, a library and an office.

Sihtric had recently purchased the house. Situated in the most upscale neighbourhood, it had cost him a small fortune, but as it was his engagement gift to you, he wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Any ordinary man might have bought you a ring, but not Sihtric. That would have been too conventional for him. Instead, he bought you a house—a tangible symbol of his desire for you to become an integral part of his life, his home, his sanctuary to return to after an exhausting working day.

The last stair squeaked under Sihtric's foot, prompting a mental note that it needed fixing. The corridor was carpeted, muffling his footsteps as he made his way to the only room he knew you might be in—the large, spacious master bedroom, the only one fully furnished and ready for occupancy. All the other rooms were still undergoing renovation, the scent of fresh paint lingering in the air.

The door was slightly ajar, allowing a glimpse of the dusky, crimson light within, suggesting that the thick red curtains you had personally chosen were likely half-drawn, allowing only a faint amount of light to filter through.

Sihtric pressed his slightly sweaty palm against the door and pushed it open, his breath quickening as he stepped into the semi-darkness of the bedroom. Though it was too dark to see clearly, he immediately recognised your silhouette in the large leather armchair positioned by the window—your bare, long, slender legs crossed, hands resting on the armrests, fingers tapping impatiently.

Sihtric's breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. Gosh, you were stunning. The faint light filtering through the curtains behind you made your silhouette almost ethereal. You were wearing that black bodysuit he adored, accentuating all your curves perfectly. Your hair pulled back, revealing your high forehead and incredibly large, captivating eyes, which scrutinised him disapprovingly.

"You're late," you said, tilting your head slightly as you surveyed him from head to toe.

A muffled groan escaped Sihtric's throat at the sound of your soft, velvety voice washing over him like a soothing balm, alerting his senses, and he felt a sudden tightness in his pants.

"Five minutes. It wasn't my fault..." Sihtric's husky voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying the anxiety coursing through his veins and causing his chest to heave more heavily with each breath. He still hadn't moved away from the door.

"Excuses, always just pathetic excuses!" you scoffed, firmly planting both feet on the ground as you gracefully rose from the chair, pushing yourself up with your hands. Sihtric's pupils widened as he followed your every movement, swallowing you with his eyes.

"It really wasn't..." he began, but quickly swallowed his words as you raised your arm warningly.

"Quiet," it was not a plea; it was an order, a command not to be disobeyed. "Who do you think you are to make me wait?"

Sihtric wasn't sure if it was really a question. "I... the traffic jam... there was an accident... the highway was blocked," he mumbled, his eyes glued to your form, unable to avert his gaze as you slowly, with determined steps, moved closer to him.

"That's not what I asked. Spare me your pitiful excuses," you had reached Sihtric and stood just before him, looking sternly up into his mismatched eyes. You were so much smaller than him, a fragile doll compared to Sihtric's well-built, muscular frame towering over you. "You have upset your queen, and you will be punished for that," your eyes darkened with disapproval as they glided over his face. 

Sihtric leaned heavily against the door, closing it with his weight, his fingers let go of his blazer, letting it fall down on the floor. Slowly, you raised your hand and Sihtric closed his eyes, freezing as if in anticipation. You could hear him holding his breath and he flinched the moment your palm cupped his warm cheek, your thumb moving over his full, sensual lips, parting instantly at your touch.

"Yes, my queen," he whispered, nuzzling against your palm, his breath uneven, sweat beads glistening on his forehead.

You took your time to admire his handsome face, your eyes lingering for a moment on the long scar on his forehead and then sliding further to the smaller one on his right cheek just beneath the eye. They were barely visible under the layer of makeup the stylist had applied to conceal them, but you knew exactly where they were, and you knew there were more hidden beneath his perfect white shirt.

You knew their origins and that the hand that had etched them into Sihtric’s body had left even deeper marks on his soul. You loved this man with all your heart, every part of him, all the dark corners of his soul and mind as well as the bright ones. You loved the real him, not just the shiny, attractive facade of a successful businessman and millionaire. You loved him more than yourself, more than anything. If the need arose, you would readily give your life for him, and you were sure he would do the same for you. You needed him as much as he needed you; you just fit together—two broken pieces, creating something whole only when joined.

You took a swing, and the resounding smack of your hand colliding with Sihtric’s cheek made you flinch, feeling a hot sting in your palm. The moan that escaped his lips made you grin as you slapped him again, channelling all your strength into your delicate hand, knowing that your palm would probably burn even more than his cheek afterward. Sihtric’s head jerked to the side, and you heard a sharp exhale escape his chest.

"You’ve been a mean boy today. Haven’t you?" you purred, caressing his reddened cheek with the back of your palm. "Tell me, what do you think would be an appropriate punishment for disobeying your queen?" You took hold of his chin and turned his head to face you. "Look at me!" you commanded, and Sihtric instantly obeyed, his eyes fluttering wide open, a hazy gleam in them.

"I've been very bad today, my queen, I deserve all your wrath," Sihtric breathed, lust and longing dripping from his hoarse voice, causing the tiny hairs on your skin to stand on end. The heat pooling in your lower abdomen and slowly spreading throughout your body became distracting. You shook your head, trying to regain your concentration, to shift your mind away from your throbbing, soaked centre.

You had met several years ago in a brothel where you were working. He – a young, handsome, aspiring, and ambitious businessman who had already made his first successful steps in the fast currents of the stock market, mentored by Uhtred, one of the most influential figures in the scene. You – a pole dancer and a part-time sex worker, feeling disillusioned with life.

At just 18, you fled your parents' house to escape the never-ending brawls fueled by alcohol and drugs. After several unsuccessful attempts at securing a somewhat decent job, all of which ended abruptly due to the harsh reality that they couldn't even cover the rent for your small, shabby outskirts apartment, you reluctantly accepted the tempting offer to earn some money by pole dancing at the "local recreation club"—at least that's what the slimy guy next door, who proposed the job to you, called it. It was only later that you discovered it also involved satisfying other establishment clients' needs. There hadn't been much of a choice between accepting it or winding up on the streets.

Sihtric's busy schedule and lack of time for real relationships had made him a frequent visitor to the red-light district, and one fateful night, your paths crossed. You knew exactly what had drawn you to the handsome, slightly shy, but very kind young man. It was his eyes—their deep, expressive gaze seemed to penetrate the very depths of your soul, devoid of judgement, contempt, or prejudice, but filled with tenderness and acceptance. From the first time you served him, he treated you with respect and gentleness, a rarity in your line of work, and you reciprocated it.

Soon, he became your regular customer, and often after a passionate fuck, you found yourself cuddled against his muscular chest, just talking. He was the first to notice the small scars on your forearms. With him, you felt an unusual sense of security, and after a moment of hesitation you finally told him about that indescribable void—the feeling of being unimportant, unwanted, a failure, and a constant source of disappointment—that had driven you to cut yourself in a desperate attempt to feel something other than overwhelming shame about your own existence. It was likely the first time someone had truly listened to you, drawing you closer and whispering comforting words in your ear.

You still vividly remembered the first time he asked you to slap him. Initially, you thought it was a jest, but his serious expression and expectant gaze made it clear he was sincere. He quickly averted his eyes, as if ashamed of his request, anticipating your judgement. Yet, you didn't judge him; why would you? You understood him and accepted him completely. It was perhaps in that moment that you realised you loved him.

“I was waiting for you,” you continued, your voice low, tinged with resentment “Look what you've done to me,” you took Sihtric’s hand and pressed it to your centre, letting him feel how soaked wet your bodysuit was there. The violent sound, something between a wild groan and moan, that escaped his lips made you shiver.

“On your knees!” you ordered. Sihtric’s hand was still between your thighs as he bared his teeth and growled in response.

“You dare to object?” You exclaimed, your voice taking on a hard edge. “You dare to disobey your queen?”

“No, my queen,” he breathed barely audibly, retrieving his hand and starting to slowly slide down to the ground, his back pressed against the door, his dark, hazy eyes never leaving yours. He paused for a moment, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, before his knees crushed against the floor, his hands resting on his thighs, gaze upwards, awaiting your next command.

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered in the same stern voice, turning your back to Sihtric and heading to the closet. As you opened the drawer, you cast an inquiring look back at Sihtric, who was obediently unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and letting it fall to the ground, his eyes not leaving you. 

You swallowed hard at the sight of his incredibly muscular, well-chiselled upper body, feeling  your breath picking up as your eyes skimmed his abdomen, lingered on his biceps, and travelled further to his hands and ring adorned fingers, resting on his thighs. What had you done to deserve this man in your life, you wondered, tracing your fingers over a black leather collar and a matching metallic leash, that you finally took out of the drawer and headed back to Sihtric.

“You know your queen loves you,” you whispered in his ear as you leaned closer and started attaching the collar around his neck.

“I never doubt that,” Sihtric murmured, tilting his head to give you better access to his neck, while you secured the leash to the collar, wrapping it around your hand. 

“Good, and do you love your queen?” you asked, casually holding his chin.

“Always,” he answered, licking his lips. Your faces were just centimetres apart and you breathed him in. His cologne mixed with the faint scent of his sweat, made your head spin slightly. Unable to resist, you leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. Playfully, you teased him, running the tip of your tongue over his lips, and Sihtric let out a low groan, his arms instantly reaching out to pull you closer.

“Oh no,” you grinned, as you ran your teeth along his lower lip and bit down, hard enough to draw blood and make him moan in frustration, as you slapped his hands away from your body. “You haven’t deserved that. Not yet,” you smirked, straightening up and simultaneously pulling him away from your lips by the leash.

“Please,” Sihtric whined, “I want to touch you. Let me touch you, please.”

“You want to touch me?” you asked, a sly smile appearing on your lips as you tilted your head, relishing at the pleading look in his eyes. “I think I know a perfect punishment for you, darling,” you pulled Sihtric to his feet by the leash, turned and started walking towards the closet.

Retrieving something from the upper drawer, you made your way back to the big leather armchair by the window, where you had been sitting just moments before, with Sihtric  following behind. Reaching your destination, you pulled him in front of you and gently pushed backward into the chair.

"Are you going to be good now?" you purred, beginning to circle around the chair.

"I'm going to be good, I promise," Sihtric replied, his eyes following your movements.

"Your hands, bad boy," you whispered in Sihtric's ear from behind, brushing your lips against his earlobe and teasing it slightly with your teeth. Sihtric stretched his left arm toward you, inhaling deeply at the familiar sound of handcuffs snapping shut and the sensation of metal against his wrist. "And now the other one," you demanded, guiding his arm behind the back of the chair.

"Good boy," you praised him, securing the handcuffs around his other wrist, which he had obediently stretched behind his back, and fastening them under a hook attached to the back of the chair, placed there precisely for this purpose.

"I want you to watch," you smiled sweetly as you placed your palm on Sihtric's shoulder and moved around him, positioning yourself just in front of him. You started to pull your bodysuit off your shoulders.

With every movement, Sihtric's breath quickened. You could see his pupils widen and hear him swallow hard as you began to slide the bodysuit down your hips. Letting the fabric glide down your legs, you stepped out of it gracefully, standing before Sihtric in your black lacy underwear.

Taking a step forward, you watched as Sihtric's thighs instinctively spread to make space for you. Leaning in, you placed a teasing kiss on the corner of his mouth, eliciting a disappointed groan from him. You trailed your fingers over his bare chest, down to his abs, stopping just at the hem of his jeans and just watched how his muscles tensed, his breath quivering and hips subtly rolling into your touch.

"What a greedy and impatient boy you are today," you smirked, the teasing smile playing on your lips as you stepped back until you reached the edge of the bed. The guttural growl that escaped Sihtric as you sat down, spreading your legs and licking your fingers, made your grin of satisfaction spread all over your face. Slowly, so slowly for him to see your every movement, you reached for your centre, pushed your panties aside and started to rub your pulsing clit. 

Sihtric didn’t even try to suppress the desperate moan that rolled over his lips as he shifted nervously in his chair, spreading his thighs as much as he could, in an attempt to lessen the pressure, his cock painfully hard in his pants.

“Just watch,” you purred, leaning back on your elbow, gathering the arousal from your folds and continuing to circle your clit with your index finger. You didn’t need much, you were dripping wet almost from the very moment Sihtric had entered the room. You pushed your finger inside you and your hips started to move up and down, accompanied by your moans, getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” you heard Sihtric cursing and groaning, tugging at his handcuffs. “Don’t do this to me. You are driving me mad.”

This was the last bit you needed. “Ahhh, fuck,” you whined, pressing another finger inside you, while your thumb continued to rub your sensitive bundle. With a loud moan you came on your fingers and let yourself fall back onto the bed, your breath heaving.

As you finally gathered yourself and raised from the bed, you were met by a pair of feral  eyes, gleaming with lust from behind wild strands of hair falling in Sihtric’s face.

“Oh my, what do we have here?” you asked, furrowing a brow, as you neared him again and palmed his rock hard cock through his jeans. Sihtric groaned and eagerly bucked his hips against your hand. 

Sinking down to the floor, you positioned yourself comfortably between his spread thighs and started unfastening his belt and opening the zipper. 

“Mmmmm, just look at you, all hard and dripping for me,” you mused as you finally freed his erection. You felt your mouth watering as you looked at his perfectly formed long cock, a thick vein running from the base to its red tip. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it a slow stroke. Placing your lips on Sihtric’s inner thigh, you started to kiss your way up towards his throbbing length.

“Fuuuuck,” Sihtric breathed out as your lips reached the base of his cock and you gave it a teasing lick from base to tip. You wrapped your lips around it and slowly took him in, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue, inflaming you again. You started to move your head up and down his length, the wanton moans and hisses leaving Sihtric, spurring you on. 

You stopped the moment his hips started to move against you, thrusting into your mouth.

“Don’t,” you hissed, looking up in his lust hazed eyes.

“I’m sorry, I won’t.” 

As soon as you resumed your ministrations Sihtric’s breath became ragged again, his whole body quivering in tension while he tried to remain still and prevent his hips from moving. From the way Sihtric’s eyes were rolling back in his head, his chest heaving in the rhythm of each breath, you could easily tell he was close, almost on the verge of losing control, as you pulled back and released his pulsing cock.

“You know the rules,” your voice had again that sharp warning edge.

“Yes, I do,” Sihtric groaned, leaning his head against the back of the chair and breathing heavily.

“Good, you can be such a good boy, if you make an effort,” you cooed, stretching out your tongue and starting all over again. 

“Please, stop. I can’t anymore. Let me cum, please,” Sihtric mewled as you had brought him to the edge already four times, withdrawing whenever he was about to peak.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you,” you looked into the dazed eyes of your hard breathing fiance, looking a complete mess. 

“Please, just let me cum,” he whispered and closed his eyes, light shudders shaking his body.

“Do you think you deserve it? You are so selfish. You want to cum and leave your queen unsatisfied?” your voice was tinged with resentment while your eyes gleamed mischievously,  as you unfastened your bra and threw it at him, followed by your panties just a moment later. 

“No, my queen. I’m sorry.” 

“Spare me your apologies!” you hissed, straddling him. "Look at me!" you ordered, slapping him again, making his head snap to the side. Sihtric obediently moved his head back to face you, his eyes fluttering open. Your gazes locked, and you found yourself choking on your own breath from the love and devotion in his large, mismatched eyes. Cupping his face with your palms, you leaned in to kiss him, swallowing the moan vibrating through his body. Sihtric parted his lips to welcome you and your tongue slipped inside, finding his, twisting around it, lapping, sucking and teasing. Arousal pulsing through every cell of your body, you fought against the desire to fuck him there and now, but you lost the uneven battle.

Burning with the need to finally feel him inside you, you aligned his cock with your entrance and sank down, taking him in until the very end of his rigid shaft, savouring the pleasant stretch. After all this time you still needed a moment to adjust to his size, before starting to move your hips, setting an ever fastening pace.

Feeling Sihtric straining against the handcuffs in a desperate want to free his hands and touch you, you tangled your fingers in his dishevelled hair and pulled hard, jerking his head back and exposing his throat to you. 

“Mark me, my queen. I’m yours,” Sihtric moaned and you buried your teeth in his sensitive skin. You were aware that the marks your lips and teeth left on his neck will be quite visible, but you couldn’t care less. Inebriated by your approaching climax, you started to move faster. You rode him with unwavering determination, straining your vagina muscles around him, feeling each and every inch of him brushing against your walls and bringing you both closer to the edge with each movement of your hips. 

“Move!” you whispered firmly in Sihtric’s ear, and his hips immediately started to thrust up into you, hitting that sweet, swollen spot inside you, that brought you closer and closer to seeing stars. Your clit brushed against his pelvis, intensifying the sensation and your head instinctively snapped back from the ferocity of pleasure building up within you.

“Please, allow me to cum,” a hoarse whisper left Sihtric’s lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. 

You were almost gone, almost over the edge, as you wildly bounced on Sihtric’s cock, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding on to him. Eyes half lid you watched him struggle to keep it together, knowing he wouldn’t come without your permission.

“Please,” he begged again, his lips barely moving from the self restraint.

“Keep going, yes, just like that. Oh my God, don’t you dare to stop. Fuck, aaahhhh!” You screamed as your climax started washing over you, your walls clenching around Sihtric’s cock and as if through a thick fog you heard yourself giving the command he so desperately waited. “Go on, cum for me, bad boy. Cum for your queen.”

An animalistic groan left Sihtric’s lips as he finally let go and you both moaned in unison, waves of pure ecstasy shuddering your bodies and wiping everything in its way. There was nothing else, just the two of you, immersed in a bubble of elevation and pure happiness. It was overwhelming, almost too much but simultaneously so indescribably blissful to feel Sihtric’s cock twitching within you, imprinting your walls and filling you up with his warm seed. You collapsed against Sihtric’s naked chest, breathing hard, his racing heart beat just beneath your ear as he kept thrusting up into you to ride out his release. 

You had no idea how long you had been sitting there, your nose buried in the hook of his neck, clinging to his sweaty chest, just savouring the moment and slowly coming down from your high. 

“Will you release me?” you heard Sihtric’s husky voice, while his lips gently nuzzled your hair. 

“Give me a moment,” you murmured with your eyes closed.

“As long as you need, my queen.” 

Unwillingly you raised yourself, feeling so empty the moment Sihtric’s cock slipped out of you. You undid the handcuffs and your eyes widened as you saw the bruises they had left on Sihtric’s wrists. Without paying any attention to it Sihtric grabbed your hand and pulled you back into his lap.

“Let me see it,” you took his hands in yours, bringing them to your lips and placing soft kisses on the bruises around his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing. It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have struggled so much against them. You made me almost cum in my pants like a teenager,” Sihtric smiled, putting his fingers under your chin and raising your head to meet his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you breathed almost inaudibly, hypnotised by his gaze.

“I love you too, my queen. You are everything to me,” Sihtric pulled you closer in his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your small frame, as he kissed you tenderly.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #modern!sihtric x reader #modern!sihtric x you #sihtric smut #modern!sihtric smut #modern!sihtric

[songbird-of-eden]

A CLUE?! The Missing Death Theory

Good Omens S2 SPOILERS below!!!

Okay, it has been the nocturnal habit of mine over the last 3 days to suddenly dwell on the Good Omens finale and scrutinise every detail in a sleep-deprived thought soup.

And apparently, tonight, my last two remaining braincells fired up their little engines and decided to put something rather interesting together.

One thing that got me when I watched the finale was the book that Muriel was reading. "The Crow Road."

So I decided to give it a quick Google, and realised the opening line of the book is one that Gabriel, or Jim, stumbled across earlier in the season. It goes like this:

"It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor, and I reflected that it always seemed to be death that drew me back to Gallanach."

Now, you may be thinking, okay, but what does this have to do with anything? And you would be right to be confused, but hear me out.

Death has a major, reoccurring influence in S2.

Yes, we have the obvious coffee shop "give me coffee or give me death" reference (this has a major point that I will get to a little later, but please, bear with me). But that is not the only one.

Throughout each episode, Death has been raised and eluded by numerous characters. In ep2, Jobe's family were saved by our ineffable duo. In ep3, we have the incident with the graverobber and stopping her from calling it a day. In ep4, we have the rise of the nazi zombies. In ep5, our unfortunate fellow from the ball gets thrown to the demons and appears to die, only to make a reappearance later on in ep6, albiet looking a little nibbled on.

And then there's the fact that miracles, as Crowley points out, are measured in "the power required to raise people from the dead."

Still with me? Okay good. Because its gonna get a little more crazy from here. Time to break out the funky tinfoil hats.

So, yes, many of the characters seemingly ellude death, right? Not a big point at first glance, considering the upbeat nature of the show... until you consider this.

Whilst in the coffee shop, the Metatron asks whether anyone ever chooses death instead of coffee. A weird line to be sure - perhaps an awkward statement of an angel unsure of how to interact with mortals. Totally plausible, right? Well, what if it was a test?

Nina claimed to remember everyone by what they order, and replied that no one has ever chosen death. I mean, I would hope so, but what if Death was no longer a thing that happened?

What if our devious Metatron wrote Death out of the Book of Life, considering that Death is a being instead of a simple concept as shown in S1 - and so the Metratron was asking as a test to gauge Nina's response. To figure out if his alteration had taken effect?

Okay, yes. It sounds a little wild, but if that is not the case, it does not mean that something is not going on with Death.

Going back to The Raven Road book, the plot follows a boy in pursuit of uncovering the mystery around his missing uncle. So perhaps, it is not so crazy after all to believe that something, or rather, someone is missing.

Which leads me to another missing creature.

Remember that heartbreaking line from Crowley? "You hear that? No nightingales?"

It was the dagger in many fan's hearts, but potentially held another meaning. Because in the poem: "Ode to a nightingale", the bird is used to represent, to an extent, death. As well as the concept of immortality.

Which means it's disappearance may be signalling a strange shift in the world.

Which brings me to my final point. We are in the home stretch now kiddos!

The second coming. The Metatron's grand plan.

In biblical text, it states that the Second Coming will be a sudden and unmistakable incident, like "a flash of lightning".

Now, where else did we see lightning? Hmmm. What about Crowley's enraged outburst that sealed poor Maggie and Nina in the coffee shop?

Which makes their line an episode or two later even more interesting...

Maggie: "Did it all start with the lightning?"

Crowley: "No, way before that."

Does this mean that events were starting to be influenced and set in motion way earlier as the Metatron began to tinker in the book?

We also have the name of S2 ep1 being called "The Arrival" - a name the Second Coming is sometimes referred to as, along with the text: "For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise."

So, just take a moment to digest that.

An archangel's call. Well, we've had two of those - Gabriel calling on Aziraphale as well as Aziraphale being called to heaven. Then we have the trumpet that plays whenever Micheal and co descend from Heaven, a sound Aziraphale actually asks whether Maggie could hear.

Which leads to the final part: the dead in Christ will rise.

People are not dying as they should, be it from the influence of our ineffable duo, or perhaps, it is the Metatron's plan after all. A way to start the second coming.

Even the opening credits alludes to this with Crowley and Aziraphale seemingly leading a crowd of humans out of hell and through various time periods, but perhaps I really am getting ahead of myself.

So yep. Something is very up with Death.

Anyway. I need to be up in 5 hours for work. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk before the incoherent babbling begins.

#good omens #neil gaiman #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #goodomens #missing death theory #the missing death theory #theory #good omens season 2 #good omens season finale #good omens theory

[crepes-suzette-373]

When Nami, Chopper, and Carrot gets caught while running, Sanji does that, which as far as anyone can tell is him telling the Vinsmokes to go help them.

It's funny that it's Ichiji and Niji who's shown reacting like "OK let's go", but maybe because of pacing sensei have no space for Yonji and Reiju.

Also, there's something about how Ichiji stares at the can silently that just feels mysterious, though. It feels like it's not just "Oh, huh, I got my raid suit back, I can fight now".

I jokingly thought "Is this the moment where he decided he's going to give Sanji his raid suit?" And the *nod* is not "Let's transform and fight", but "Hey grab the number 3 suit later". Just a joke thought, though.

I've been seeing a few people theorise that Ichiji has been playing an act and he actually does have more range of emotions than either Niji or Yonji and plotting something this whole time. I did definitely notice he's not the stoic prince he pretends to be (he is such a thug inside), but I don't have any theories yet about to what extent is he hiding.

I do know that a lot of people have brought up this scene:

Niji and Yonji are hugging Judge back, and even if Reiju is not hugging back her face is shown to be smiling (she could be faking, who knows). The thing about Ichiji is that not only is he "stiff"/not reacting, but also conveniently his face is not showing. This looks suspicious, and something doesn't feel right.

It is possible that this is a big nothing, and maybe Ichiji just doesn't enjoy physical contact. Or it's just an incidental pose. I haven't commented on it thus far, because I wanted to wait until more info comes, just in case it's nothing. But I'm seeing more new people point it out, so maybe there really is something worth scrutinising.

#one piece #germa 66 #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke ichiji #ichiji #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke #vinsmoke siblings #conspiracy theory

[greenteabelle]

orv au based on one thousand and one nights where kim dokja is the sacrificial bride of his town to be wed to the kingdom's tyrannical king yoo joonghyuk .

kdj is used to being alone . ever since his mother left without a single word after she was accused of dabbling in the dark arts , he's left to bear the scrutinising gazes of the villagers . rumours circulate in whispers , though he hears them all the same , accusing him of inheriting his mother's curse because why else does he have that strange gloominess surrounding him ? he becomes an easy target for bullying , but he never goes down quietly . after all , he has fought better with words .

because if one thing is for certain , kdj is observant . he will listen to their self-righteous words and hear their venomous secrets , take in their luxurious robes and see what they try to hide , endure their beatings and find their weakest spots . no matter how badly he aches nor how suffocating his heart , he finds the right words and strikes where it hurts .

and once they throw the first punch , well , it's self defense is it not ?

and kdj is resigned to his fate . he doesn't expect to find kindness in others , for life as a mundane citizen in a kingdom constantly on the brink of war makes no room for generosity .

but he meets good people .

yoo sangah who sneaks him bread for breakfast every morning ;

han sooyoung who throws him stolen books from the scornful librarian ;

lee hyunsung who defends him when the fights get too rough ;

jung heewon who offers him a place to hide when running is the only option .

so kdj is content .

until one day , the village head wants to rise higher in the ranks of nobility , and secretly makes a deal with the party that opposes the supreme king . the laws of the kingdom mandate that the king's bride must be chosen by the council of nobles , so they scheme to find a bride who can remove the king once and for all .

so the village head thinks of kdj , rumoured to have inherited his mothers dark arts , and offers him up as a sacrificial bride .

before kdj can even try to escape , he's drugged and whisked away to the supreme king's castle .

when he wakes up to the glint of a blade aimed directly at his throat , kdj does the only thing that comes to mind in his desperation to see another day .

"let me tell you a story , before i go . "

momentarily stunned by kdj's bravado , yjh allows it with cruel amusement .

so kdj just talks .

he tells him the story of a gamer who is thrown into an apocalyptic world where death comes knocking at every moment . he rambles on and on , scrounging every nook and cranny of his brain to glean each detail to bring the story to life . as each hour passes , yjh slowly lowers his sword and sits back to hear the story .

and just as the first slivers of sunlight start to break over the horizon , kdj says this :

" and that is the end of the protagonist's first life . "

" ... first ? "

" yes, your majesty . "

" how many lives does he have after this one ? "

" one thousand more . "

the corner of yjh's lips quirk up slightly , though kdj doesn't dare to call it a smile . it's obvious that the man has seen through his plot , though he doesn't comment on it .

" to a thousand nights of our marriage , then . nothing more , nothing less . "

then night after night , kdj is brought to yjh's chambers to continue his story . their interactions begin to bleed into daylight , as yjh seems to gradually integrate kdj into his life . he gets to know lee jihye , commander of the royal guard , lee gilyoung and shin yoosung , caretakers of the beasts etc. and he grows attached to them .

for some unfathomable reason , yjh even allows kdj to contact his old friends .

as each day passes , kdj gets to know the elusive king a little more . their banter never gets tiresome , and it is always a delight for kdj to see a glimpse underneath that cold mask he hides behind . he starts to genuinely care for him .

perhaps a bit too much .

so when the deadline of their marriage arrives , kdj makes a decision .

" ... and that is the end of my story . "

" kim dokja , why won't you look at me ? "

" why are you doing this to me ? "

" doing what ? "

" doing such cruel things to me . i have no more stories to tell , meaning that my time , no matter how delayed , is now up . today is the date of my execution , yet you still look at me as if I were your most prized possession , when I no longer hold any value . "

" your stories do not equate to your value , kim dokja . "

" do you mean for me to believe that you will continue to keep me by your side even when I have no story left to tell ? "

" why would you believe anything else ? "

" my story is finished , what other story is there left for me to share ? "

" then , my beloved , perhaps we shall write our own story . together . "

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #yoo sangah #han sooyoung #lee hyunsung #jung heewon #lee jihye #lee gilyoung #shin yoosung #alternate universe #au #ok this was an old idea i had like 2 years ago but never got around to writing it #i don't think i even have the abilities to do it justice LMAO #so here it is on my third day back on tumblr #thank you for reading

[aishophrenic]

summoned the god of mischief.

Warning: consensual non consent (CNC), dubious consent (dub con), overstimulation, oral sex (both f and m), fingering, p in v, manipulation, mind control

Plot: You have tried to summon the god of mischief a number of times but thought that it was of no use until one day he comes and finally pays you a visit.

It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. Light was shining on you, stars were aligned for you. Nothing felt better than what you were experiencing right now in your life. And then the question arose, how was everything going so perfectly? Or, did it seem so? Little did you know that all the good times were about to turn into a living hell.

Once again, you woke up in your comfy bed and looked at the table clock. You were really proud of yourself as you woke up just on time. Damn, this really had to be great. This was definitely a great start for your day but it would be beneficial for you to not assume that your day would be put to a great end.

After freshening up and having your breakfast, you got ready in your office attire and sat in your car to drive to your workplace. While driving, you saw that your daily route was closed because of some construction work, leading you to take a quieter, and less dense road.

You were not the one who's good at directions so it didn't bring you much shock when you found out that you had been lost and accidentally found your way into a forest. You had never seen it before, nevertheless it looked enchanting.

Without even realising, you drove inside the forest. The interior was even prettier than the outside. Suddenly, the sky turned grey and you realised that it was about to rain. A rainy car ride in an unknown forest wasn't the best idea so you decided to depart, but as soon as you tried to move the steering, a strong wind blew in your direction making you squirm in your seat.

Goosebumps rose all over your body, something felt wrong. Shrugging it away, you took a deep breath and sighed. "Alright, let's get out of here." You said to yourself in an attempt to calm yourself down.

Before you could drive, you saw a big tree about to fall on your car and then boom! This was the end. This is how it was all supposed to end, right?

Slowly, you opened your eyes, the blackness fading out. You saw yourself inside a room, a bedroom to be precise. You were sitting on the bed. Your hands tried to reach for your face but they failed to do so. You realised that your hands were tied to the bedpost. One on each side.

Your blood ran cold on learning that you had been held captive by someone. Thoughts started gushing over your mind about how you would escape from here or would you even be able to ever escape from here?

Putting a halt to your thoughts, you saw the door open as a tall, bulked up man with shoulder length hair walked in and smiled at you.

You clenched your fist in fear and terror as you tried to scrutinise his plans but it seemed like it was the other way round, as your fright was obvious to him.

"Hello, pet." He said with a sly smirk. "Who are you?!" You said in a rather high pitch. "Who am I? Good question." He replied. You looked at him waiting for him to continue. "I am Loki of Asgard and I am the god of mischief."

You gasped, it had to be false. How could this happen? You had always been a Norse mythology enthusiast and were always eager to read about loki. Attracted to his mischievous and ravageous demeanour, you had tried summoning him sometimes. He never responded to your summons but looks like he knew.

His features were actually fitting all the characteristics that were given about him in the books but how could you trust? What if it was just a cosplayer who was taking advantage?

"How can I trust you?" You asked. "Oh darling, I'm not here to prove myself to you but I know exactly how many times you have tried to reach out to me and summon me."

Shit. It was really him. You could feel the energy around you and the way he talked. You had actually manifested him to come to you but heck now what were you supposed to do?

"Don't know what to do next? Do you? I can read your thoughts well, pet." Fuck. This was getting messier. You always enjoyed it when he did all those sinful things to other people, but you doubted if you would be really amused if he did those things to you.

"I know you're terrified, anticipating what I'll do to you. Perhaps I have been waiting for just a moment like this so that I can do…terrible, awful things to you."

You took a deep breath as your mouth ran dry and heart palpitated. You stick your tongue out to wet your lips so that you could enunciate the words forming inside your mouth.

"Please forgive me God loki, I am just a foolish mortal who was driven by your attraction and ended up fucking myself up."

"Ooh, you excite me, pet. I like the way you address me. Also, you're not foolish for being driven by my attraction, there is no one who won't be allured by a god."

Things were heating up and the tension between you two was increasing. His eyes were addictive, they held you captive. You felt enchanted. Your chest heaved up and down and constantly fidgeted inside his seductive aura. You could feel something wet between your thighs and before you could figure out what you actually were supposed to do, the smell of your arousal hit both yours and his nostrils. He smirked on smelling it and scoffed. You felt a tinge of redness on your cheeks as you turned your gaze away in embarrassment.

"Oh dear, already so wet for me. You like the thought of being terrified. The thought of being dominated and asserted by a god amuses you. You must have been truly desperate to summon me."

"Forgive me but I don't like all of this. I think you've misinterpreted my thoughts. Please let me go. I respect you a lot and I swear on you that I'll never summon you again." You said out of terror, practically being restless.

"But why not?! Why won't you summon me again? I know you would if I leave you right here, you're destined to come to me. You're just a mere mortal to me but you had the audacity to doubt my interpretations." His tone was getting a bit angrier and you thought that he was about to snap his fingers and kill you but instead, he came closer to you and whispered in your left ear, "I know it darling. I know that you want me."

With that being said, he connected his lips to yours and your reaction was instantaneous to kiss him back passionately. You could not hold the heat back in anymore and you needed more. He broke the kiss while you caught your breath, "Now tell me dear, aren't you desperate to feel my touch? Do you still want me to go?"

He definitely had your mind and was using his magic on you as your body stopped responding against his touch or maybe it really was you.

He slid his hand smoothly over your body making sure to touch every part of you and halted as he reached your heat. "Say it and I'll make you feel like no mortal could ever make you feel."

You knew that you needed him and you were ready to submit yourself to him. To your god. "Yes, God loki, please mark me as yours and make me feel good. You're the only one who can make me feel good. I'm all yours to tame."

You were shocked as the words slipped out of your mouth, you definitely didn't see it coming. Your ideology was literally screaming to you and telling you to deny his touch but your mind was too cloudy to listen clearly.

"I know my sweet little girl, that I'm the only one who can make you feel good. I am your god."

In a snap of his fingers, all your clothes disappeared into green sparks and your restraints vanished. Your hands were freed but he manipulated your mind into giving in to him so you had no strength to move your limbs according to your wish.

His hand cupped your left bosom which fitted perfectly in his hand. He circled the tip of your nipples with his thumb while fondling your right bosom. You let out an audible breath which could be counted in as a moan. Your chest heaved erotically while he smirked looking at you.

"It's a pleasure to look at such a beauty like you. I can't wait to do all those sinful things to you." You let out a muffled moan as you tried to speak out but it felt like your mouth had been sewed with invisible threads. He would let you speak what he wants to hear, not what you want to say.

His hands were big and veiny and they weren't really helping you to not be aroused even more. You had to agree on the fact that he was the most ethereal being you had ever seen in your whole life.

His hands finally reached you down there where you wanted them to be. He slid his finger up and down your pussy and collected all the slick on his finger. He slipped his wet finger inside your tight hole. You clenched immediately as you felt his finger inside you.

You choked on a moan when he inserted his whole finger in you. "Oh darling, already clenching on my finger, I wonder how you'll take my actual length." He said with fake sympathy.

Your cheeks were flushed at the thought of him being inside you. Deep down somewhere, you wanted him and you knew that too.

He slowly started fingering you, making your pussy wetter. He slid in another finger and picked up his pace a bit. Wet slurpy noises could be heard inside the room and they just turned you on even more. You finally lost it when he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot and making you moan out loud. Your thighs tightened and you dropped your head back on the bed.

"Aww sweetheart, looks like you're loving this." You were loving this and hating this at the same time. His praises just brought you closer to the edge. There was something unusually arousing about him praising you. You felt weak in your knees whenever he called you by certain names like his pet or his little girl.

Once he realised that he had found that one spot, he curled his finger more frequently while his thumb circled your clit. You were in pure bliss as he fulfilled your insatiable desires. He fastened his fingers and started rubbing your clit faster making you close your eyes.

You were so close. So damn close from breaking into his embrace. You were prepared for him to pull out because that was what he was supposed to do right? Bring you to the edge and then leave right there, afterall he is the god of mischief but seems like he outwitted you as he continued with his ministrations, seemingly bringing you towards the edge.

"It's alright, you can cum darling. All I wanna do is make you feel pleasure." His assuring words were all you needed for a release as you came hard. But it didn't come to an end. The stimulation didn't stop. He didn't stop. Now that was even worse than edging and he probably knew that. He rubbed your clit even faster than before as he put a third finger inside you. You screamed as you felt overstimulated. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop! Please I beg you, it's too much! Oh God." You said, your eyes rolling in the back of your head while your hands reached down to hold his hands in an attempt to make him stop. You squirmed and shaked continuously under his grasp but he didn't stop.

"You're such a good girl, taking it all for me. Darling, I wanna see you cum on my fingers one more time and I know that you would oblige." You knew that there was no other way than obeying him and you had to push yourself over your limit.

You took the pleasurable torment until it broke you down for the second time and had you cumming undone on his divine fingers. Your thighs were shaking as you hadn't experienced such intense orgasm in a long time.

He finally gave you a moment to breathe just to take it back from you. "You're so damn adorable, my precious pet." He praised, making you feel happy even after all the abuse he put you through.

In a snap of his fingers, you were once again back to your senses and sanity. You were no longer feeling numb. You snatched the opportunity and screamed,"Please let me go! You are forcing me into this!" She pleaded against the god. Loki chuckled with a sinister smile on his face and said, "Whom are you trying to fool, pet? Me or yourself? I know exactly what you feel. You like being forced and manhandled by a man. You crave my touch. You are nothing but my whore so don't act like I'm forcing you when you are the one who summoned me and touched yourself to my name."

Your eyes widened as the realisation hit you that he knew it all. You gulped down the saliva building in your mouth as you struggled to respond. "Don't know what to say now, pet? Now that I have said it all, are you still going to pretend that you dislike this?"

You tried to turn your gaze away from him until he taunted again,"Awe, my poor little girl." he said with a tsk. "Don't worry, I know you're desperate. I know you need affection. I will show you.". You didn't know anymore if you wanted this or not. Some part of you said to stay right there and devour the moment while the other part of your mind told you to leave that place as soon as possible. You knew that you won't be able to flee in such a vulnerable state so there was no other option left than to take whatever he was giving you.

"Oh, so you have surrendered yourself. Your thoughts excite me." You were terrified by his powers but they also exhilarated you at the same time.

"Undress me, darling." He told you in his deep voice that sent tingles down your spine. You barely breathed out a no. "I said undress me, darling. It wasn't a request, it was an order." You wanted to play along this time. "And what if I don't? What will you do?" You asked, hoping that it wouldn't go wrong.

Suddenly, a dagger appeared in his hand as he held it against your neck, pressing it just the right amount so it wouldn't actually cut. "I fear that your disobedience might be the reason for your death."

"No, please don't! I am sorry. I will obey you. I'll do anything that you'll tell me but please don't take my life. I beg you." He smirked at your miserable state as you were on the verge of crying. "Alright, so you will do anything that I tell you to, right darling? I hope you are a woman of your word."

"Undress me. Darling." He said in a stern tone this time. You nodded as your shaking hands slowly took off his armour and his asgardian suit. His toned and lean figure was definitely a sight to behold. On noticing your hesitation to take off his pants, he cooed,"It's alright darling. Take them off."

You tucked on his pants and slid them down. His manhood stuck out erect, the tip being a light shade of red while oozing precum. You would be lying if you said that your mouth didn't water at the delicious sight. You wanted to take his length in your mouth and it seemed like he heard you.

"Come here my sweet girl. Satisfy your god with your mouth. I know this mouth can do wonders. I want to go deep down your throat till you're gagging and choking." His words were dripping with honey and they terrified and aroused you at the same time.

Not wanting any more chaos, you submitted to Loki as you crawled forward and bent down to take his length inside your warm mouth. It wasn't even half of his whole length and you were already choking.

In an attempt to go deeper, you accidentally choked yourself again and jerked your head backward to detach your mouth from his cock and breathe. Before you could, his hand grabbed your head and pulled it even closer to him, making you gag. You tapped on his thigh in an erratic manner but he didn't care. "Ssh ssh it's fine. Don't panic darling. Just try to breathe from your nose and take it. Your mouth feels so good."

Tears flowed from your eyes as he bobbed your head up and down his cock. Your nose touched his pelvis, resulting in a moan out of him. Gradually, his movements became faster as you started to get used to it. He thrusted his hips upwards and deep throated you.

You lolled your tongue on his veiny length. You could feel his length growing inside you. "Ah, yes, you're wonderful my dear, I'm so close." After jabbing his length inside you for a while, he pulled out of your mouth. You gasped all the air that your lungs could take and felt that you were finally back to life.

"Stick out your tongue." He breathed out. You obeyed him and did as he said. He jerked his cock from his hand a few times before he released the strands of cum on your tongue. "Swallow it." After you did, he said, "Good girl."

It was enough to make you weak in the knees.

You lied down on your back and sighed. You closed your eyes for a minute until you felt someone towering you. You opened your eyes to see Loki on top of you resting his forearm on the bed so that he doesn't suffocate you with his body weight.

You could feel his tip touching your pussy. "I hope that you want it as much as I do." He said with a devilish smile which was enough to scare you. "No, please don't, I d-don't want this!" You cried. "Well, all I can do is hope that you do." he replied.

He rubbed his length on your pussy lips, making you moan. Your wetness was visible to him. "Seems like your body doesn't sync up with your thoughts, for I can clearly see your arousal." He said, smirking. You were too embarrassed to speak anything.

He pushed his whole length inside you without letting you process the moment. You let out a scream as his big length teared up your insides. You had never seen someone even near his size.

He slowly started thrusting inside you. "Y-you're so big. It hurts." You said while your eyes brimmed with tears. "Shh it's alright. You're a good girl. I know you can take it. It will feel nice soon." He coaxed. It felt genuine. The way he praised you. You started to like it.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as he penetrated. Gradually, the pain started to turn into pleasure, making you roll your eyes back. Skin slapping and wet squelching noises could be heard. You don't know when you lost control and started moaning his name. You could feel yourself near your climax.

"Yes darling, keep clenching at me like that. You're my special girl." He said while speeding up. He was about to cum, and so were you. He could feel you on the edge. He put his thumb on your clit and played with it, making you throw your head back.

"I-I'm so damn close. Please don't stop." You said while trying to breathe properly. "I know my dear that you are so close. I want you to cum with me. I want to feel your warmth." Loki said.

His thrusts became erratic as they sufficed your darkest desires. "Let loose, my pet."

You both came together. He kept on thrusting inside you until all of his cum was deep in your womb and dripping out of you. He pulled out and laid beside you.

"I would love to see you again, pet."

You woke up in your car, looking the same as you were before you fainted. You put your hand on your face while your eyes widened. You realised that he visited you. The god of mischief had paid you a visit himself.

It would be a lie if you said that you didn't wish for him to visit you again.

#loki laufeyson #loki smut #dark!loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #thomas sharpe smut #tom hiddleston smut #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson smut

[crazed-rambler]

I might be wrong, but isn't this also the first mlm kiss shared between main characters on 911 total? Like, I know that Thomas and Mitchell kissed once in their little montage but that was very brief, and I think every other male same sex relationship seen on calls has just involved like loving looks and some touches and stuff. But those are side characters only there for five mins tops really and while they can be significant to the plot, what they do is unlikely to be scrutinised because of how little screen time they get.

What's wild is that there have been two other men on the show that are openly queer and neither of them have kissed another man, which is wild. I'll forgive Josh because we only really see him at work and when we didn't he was being assaulted but Michael's entire storyline almost revolved around him coming out as gay and how that affected his life and yet he never kissed either of his boyfriends, not even when he PROPOSED! And don't get me wrong, not everyone likes to kiss their partners and that's perfectly fine, but it just struck me as odd that in his entire time on the show not once was he overtly intimate with his partners.

Either way, it's odd that a kiss between two main male characters has never happened on the show before and that is the second mlm kiss ever but it's great that it's happening at such a pivotal moment and having such a positive impact/reception.

#honestly screw fox and their underlying homophobia #abc aint afraid to say gay #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 7x04 #evan buckley #bisexual evan buckley

[serenaisavillain]

Sword and Silk

Summary: Within the ancient walls of the Red Keep, the Princess is ensnared by the looming presence of Ser Harwin "Breakbones" Strong, his silent vigilance concealing darker depths. Amidst his whispers of protection, a hidden yearning simmers beneath the surface, entwined with the secrets that swarm within the castle's corridors.

Warnings: Themes of violence, including depictions of physical altercations, character death, grief, complex power dynamics, manipulation and coercion.

Author's Note: Your feedback is valuable to me as an author. Whether it's your thoughts on the characters, the plot twists, or even just your emotional response to the story, I genuinely want to hear from you. Stay tuned for the second part!

Word Count: 2.4k

HE WAS HER SHADOW. Strolling heavy-footed behind her at every moment. The princess's every move was scrutinised under his unwavering gaze. King Viserys had long lectured his only daughter in the belly of his sleeping chamber. The presence of her Kingsguard was for her own protection. Ser Harwin "Breakbones" Strong was true to his namesake. The thought that harm might come to her under his shield was amusing.

Still, she felt so diminutive; every footstep, his looming presence followed. He towered over her like the godswood tree under which her lessons commenced. His wide back and mighty arms did not settle the swarm of wasps that buzzed within her belly. It rattled their nest.

She was left to her own devices during the day within the heart of the sept. The seven walls of the dusty stone room seldom held the inhabitants of the castle. Their focus remained fixed on indulging their whims, she always thought. After her delicate finger lit a candle at the altar, she bent both knees before the marble statue of The Father. A precipitation of teardrops rolled down the apples of her cheeks. There she begged, hands clasped for the soul of her dear mother.

She would emerge when the sun hung low in the sky and the shadows grew long. Her dampened features never failed to draw Ser Harwin's attention. His thick eyebrows drew themselves together over his deep sable eyes.

"Are you alright, Princess?" He would always whisper.

These were the only times her lilac eyes would dare flicker to his, resembling the red of her house banner.

"Yes, Ser Harwin." She would croak before averting her eyes to the grey stone path beneath her feet.

ON A DAY OF GENTLE BREEZE, tranquil waters and clear skies, her cousin, Lady Laena Velaryon's ship, docked at the harbour of Blackwater Bay.

Ser Harwin's eyes softened as a genuine smile graced the Princess's lips for once. A fleeting moment of brightness amidst the shadows that surrounded her.

"Cousin!" She cried.

She nearly tripped over the train of her black gown, running towards her kin, arms outstretched.

When the gap between them was sealed, an entanglement of limbs ensued, their silver hair dancing wildly in the wind.

"How is my dearest Y/N?" The older girl asked, panting.

The Princess nodded as they began to walk down the pier.

Stark-white seagulls flew above them alongside the dark scales of Vhagar.

The large dragon casting a quick shadow.

The crew unloading the cargo of the ship gasped in awe of the great beast.

"The days no longer seem long… as I have written in my letters. They now somehow manage to bleed together. I often confuse many moons ago for yesterday…" She sighed.

Lady Laena clutched the Princess's cold hands within her own.

"You shall grieve no longer, sweet Y/N. We shall fête every day until I depart!" She laughed, tugging her into a hug that nearly suffocated the younger girl.

Ser Harwin smiled unbeknownst to the two, his heavy boots following behind as always.

Y/N hurriedly walked through the corridor of the Red Keep, the sound of her low-heeled shoes barely audible against the polished marble floor.

She came to a halt at a heavy Valyrian steel door, gesturing to it with delicate fingers.

"The finest room in the castle, for my truest confidant." She giggled.

The knight had not heard the Princess laugh in that manner since her last name day when the Queen was still alive.

KING VISERYS HAD declared that there be three days of celebration for his daughter.

On the first night, a lavish feast commenced. Every elegantly clad guest gorged themselves on the most sumptuous of delicacies. From roasted boar to buttered rolls to indulgent cakes adorned with fruit and thick frosting.

Amidst his peers, the man with dark curls hungered for something else - or rather, someone.

Princess Y/N sat tall upon a skillfully carved chair among the rest of her family, her dainty wrist adorned with a pewter bracelet encrusted with rubies. It grazed against the velvet tablecloth as she spoke. She and her cousin Lady Laena brushed shoulders, occasionally whispering and giggling as they indulged heavily in Dornish wine.

The crimson colour gown she donned made her bronze skin more radiant, competing with the shimmer of its silk fabric. The garment's onyx corset adorned with an embroidered dragon and delicate lace details sinched her waist. The dress hugged every curve of her body with a luxurious embrace. The neckline embellished with matching black lace plunged daringly low, accentuating the swell of her bust.

No fault of the Princess, he imagined; she certainly could not be aware of how appetisingly she had blossomed over the past year - he certainly had not until now.

"Brother, you are drooling," his brother Larys jested.

Ser Harwin averted his gaze instantaneously.

The knight, in his finest attire, futilely attempted to focus on the roasted duck drowned in gravy that sat on his plate. He could not resist the décolletage of the heiress, his eyes carefully peering at the curly-haired beauty.

On the second day, when the sun hung directly overhead, the King commanded a tournament be held. Lords and Ladies of Westeros and the lesser kingdoms filled the seats of the great coliseum, heavy bags of coin in their grasp with the intention of placing bets on the bravest knights.

Despite the tremor of his hands, Lord Strong encouraged his son to be among those in the festivities.

As the knights prepared for the final joust, Ser Harwin Strong approached the royal pavilion where the princess sat. His skin was slick with sweat that he hoped she assumed was a byproduct of the Westerosi summer. His armour was clangorous with the steady trot of his steed. His eyes were fixed on her visage as he steadied his mount.

"Princess," he began, bowing his head before her, "I ask that you bestow me the honor of wearing your favor."

The Princess slowly rose from her cushioned seat and approached the railing, the wreath of blood-red roses in her delicate grasp.

A shy smile graced her painted lips.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "May it bring you luck, Ser Harwin."

The man contained the swell of pride that erupted in his broad chest as the wreath now adorned his wooden lance.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said, "I shall carry it with pride."

Ser Harwin's armour gleamed in the sunlight as he returned to his position.

Silence settled over the coliseum.

With a thunderous roar, the signal was given, and the two knights spurred their steeds into action. Dust danced in the air as the hooves of horses thundered down the lists, lances steadied and gazes marked on thine own target.

The lances crashed against each other. Only black-haired knight's held true, colliding with the armour of his opponent with brutal force. He, however, remained steady on the leather of his saddle.

with brutal force. He however, remained steady upon the leather of his saddle.

The nobles erupted into cheers as Ser Harwin's opponent was unseated, descending to the dust with a deafening clangour. The victorious knight waved briefly to the crowd before his horse gave out below him.

The gasps and screams of the court reverberated through the arena.

The shrieks of steel on steel rang across the jousting field as the two knights clashed. Ser Harwin was a man possessed, his blows raining down upon his opponent with relentless force. At one point, he tossed aside his sword, pummeling his opponent with simply his hands, both fists pounding against his chest.

As the dust settled and the screams of the crowd fell dead, Ser Harwin stood with his head hung, his gauntlets bloody, and his breath in ragged gasps. There was no longer pride in his eyes; only a grim visage remained, finding no solace in knowing he had defended his honour and upheld the code to which he had sworn his life.

He gazed upon the Princess's face; her violet eyes widened, and her mouth agape.

On the last night, fireworks exploded in the midnight sky above the ships of Blackwater Bay, the most noble of houses making drunken toasts to the Princess Y/N.

A table of gifts, wrapped in the most ornate of papers and fabrics and tied in the most elaborate and fantastical of bows, piled as high as the mountains in the North. It only grew as the evening went on, each courtier attempting to outdo the next.

A bard strummed his mandolin and cried out a song naming her the Princess, the realm's delight.

But the princess sat at her table, feigning looks of surprise and joy as one pompous figure after another greeted her.

THE LADY LAENA smiled.

"Oh, how you honour me, Y/N," she began, "Won't you join me for some wine and gossip?" She jested.

The Princess nodded, escaping with her kin under the threshold arm in arm.

The young knight stood back turned towards the door, not meaning to but overhearing their girlish chatter.

Y/N sat at the foot of Laena's bed, watching as she undressed.

The soft winds rustled the silken curtains, filling the room with a slight chill.

"How long has it been since we have laid eyes upon each other dear cousin?" Y/N said, sipping from her silver chalice.

Laena sighed as she plopped on the tall mattress. Her hair spread across the cool satin sheets.

"Way too long, I fear." She pouted.

Y/N gulped the last bit of her wine, wiping the side of her mouth with the tips of her pointer and index fingers.

Her cousin chuckled.

"What?! What provokes you to such laughter?" Y/N flopped back so she could lay beside her.

"You, drunkard." She giggled.

"I'll have you know I have not indulged in quite sometime," the Princess shrugged, reaching for the pitcher.

"By all means indulge… Your Grace," she jested.

Y/N shoved the older girl's shoulder.

"Do you remember all the mischief we got up to?" She sat up reaching for her own chalice.

"How could one forget."

"Little dragons should be seen and not heard!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

Another fit of laughter ensued.

"Good riddance to Otto! That old geezer!" Y/N began before her soft palms covered her mouth.

Laena rolled around the bed, clutching her nightgown-covered stomach.

"You have never told a lie! I do not regret ever eavesdropping on his conversations." She stated plainly.

"Gods! Remeber when we heard him trying to seduce that young kitchen hand?! What was her name-" The princess began once more.

"Maeve! The poor girl!" Her cousin answered.

The two fell weak, with stomachs aching from laughter.

The hour grew late, and the pair grew bacchanalian.

Their chalices once filled with the finest of Dornish wine had run dry.

"…Any interesting converstions… or encounters at court...?" Laena asked. Her head now hung off the bed.

Y/N pouted her lips.

"No lords interest me…" Y/N retorted, reflecting on the disappointing suitors she had encountered. From brutish Baratheons to loquacious Lannisters.

Laena hummed.

"He does not have to be a lord…" she sang.

The princess sat up.

"It is almost as if you are referring to someone in particular dear cousin…" She arched her brow.

The Velaryon girl shrugged.

"Have you perhaps noticed the fleeting glances of your Kingsgaurd…?" The girl flipped over onto her belly.

She laughed nearly falling from the bed.

"Ser Harwin? I assure you I have no interest in a man like him. He probably frequents the brothel in Mole's Town, has fathered a thousand bastards and…"

"Uh huh… So you are smitten with him…" She deduced.

Y/N heaved a boudoir pillow at her cousin's head.

"I have no time to be consumed by matters of the heart… besides how can one forget the brutality of my name day…"

Laena's eyes softened.

Y/N cleared her throat.

"The hour has grown late dear cousin. I fear I must retire…" Y/N explained before swaying to her feet.

The older girl nodded.

She rose off the bed, bidding her kin goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.

The girl tugged feebly at the door before managing to pry it ajar.

She had forgotten her sworn protector resided outside until his dark ringlets appeared in the candlelit corridor.

"Princess." He greeted hoarsely.

"Ser Harwin. My apologies…" She slurred before clumsily shuffling past him.

The knight stifled the laugh that bubbled in his belly at the sight before him. In fact, he quite enjoyed it when the Princess murmured more than two words to him.

"No need to apologise Your Grace. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?" he said looking down at her state.

The top buttons of her chemise were unbuttoned; he had not the slightest clue where her shoes had gone and her curls were more unruly than usual.

Frankly she looked as though she'd been bedded.

"Yes… to my chambers," she sighed.

THE WALK WAS SLOW, but Ser Harwin did not mind. He found the sight quite adorable.

Princess Y/N hummed along as she used the passing walls to stabilize her.

When they reached the door, the knight pushed it open, standing straight outside the threshold.

The princess mumbled a quiet thanks before entering her large chamber.

A few moments after she had shut the door behind her, he heard what he thought was his name being uttered from her lips.

"Princess?" her turned to the door, his hand frozen at the handle.

"Are you decent?" He called.

"Yes!" she answered rather quietly.

The man swallowed hard.

The room was exceptionally warm from the fireplace that burned brightly in the corner, casting the shadows of flickering flames over the princess's face.

He shut the door behind him.

"I cannot manage the strings of my corset…" She pouted.

The man's skin warmed.

He supposed that since it was now the hour of the wolf, it would be most unkind to awaken Her Grace's handmaiden to do such a simple task.

The knight removed his gauntlets laying them gently on the table beside him.

He cautiously approached the heiress. Her back turned towards him.

She tossed her pearlescent hair over her shoulder so it rested on her collar bone.

His nimble fingers unravelling the strings of the corset one by one.

The man tried to ignore the way his rough fingers grazed the softness of her skin every now and again.

The princess sighed deeply.

"Thank you, Ser Harwin."

The man grunted in response, afraid that his tongue might betray him.

The silver-haired beauty stalked towards him, eyes fixed; he had not realized that he was marching backwards until his head hit the wall with a thud.

"Ser Harwin…" She said. Her glossy lilac eyes peering up at him through her long eyelashes.

"Princess…" He whispered. Swallowing thickly.

She tilted her head to the side.

His eyes immediately fell to her exposed neck.

"Do you desire me?"

#a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #house of the dragon #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #ser harwin strong x black!reader #ser harwin strong x poc!reader #angst #fluff #laena velaryon #laena velaryon x reader #poc fanfiction #fanfiction

[scaranation]

hey? how are u? i hope ur doin well.... I really love your writing....can u do a little headcanon for me... where y/n and alhaitham watch a horror movie together???

HESYESYEA THIS IS SO CUTE ❤️❤️ this might be a bit short but i added as much as i could think of (i need to stop writing so many alhaitham fics but this man has been on my mind as well 😭)

༊*·˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀��𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Pairing: Alhaitham x GN!reader

Content: fluff, comfort, minor horror scene descriptions, established relationship

Let’s be honest, there’s no way Alhaitham would be scared by a horror movie. He’d condescendingly point out all the rotoscoping errors, scoff at the cheap jump scares and scrutinise the plot points with the intensity of a movie critic.

While you were shaking beside him, hands clammy with sweat, he’d muse about the feasibility of the scenes.

“Blood splatters mostly away from the point of impact, even in this very far-fetched situation wherein…”

“Haitham…” You didn’t hear a word he said, only clutching onto his arm as the camera showed a shot of a grotesquely mangled body. A particularly vivid close-up of grey-clouded eyes rimmed with mutilated flesh had you recoiling, pressing yourself closer into Alhaitham’s side.

He’d reassure you with more facts, assuming that you’d take comfort in logic and reasoning as he did. Secretly enjoying your form pressed closely to his, Alhaitham would criticise the verisimilitude of the movie with a greater fervour in an attempt to calm you down. He couldn’t understand why you feared something that wasn’t real, although he reasoned that you could be more susceptible to biological cues. The tense music was potentially a large contributing factor, Alhaitham decided.

He’d run soothing circles over the back of your hands, murmuring what he thought were words of reassurance as you buried your face into his neck at a particularly tense scene. If you were the one who picked the movie, expect to be teased a little - Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to resist prodding at your frightened demeanour with an amused grin.

Normally, Alhaitham rejected physical touch. But how could he say no, when you were so scared? He’d let you stay in his arms for a while, seeking comfort in his broad shoulders and familiar heat. If you had your face resting near his chest, you’d feel the low vibrations of his chuckles each time you jumped at a scene change.

Whilst your heart would beat in an absolutely unhinged terror, his heart would thrum with love, briefly stopping his movie critiquing to admire your wide-eyed expression. If you seemed like you couldn’t handle it, he’d offer to turn the movie off (or leave the cinema, if you were in one) - Alhaitham was never the kind of person to keep you somewhere against your will. Once he was done with the subtle teasing, his attention would be turned to making sure you were comfortable. Even if he was terrible at that sort of thing, you found his failed attempts at reassurance to be quite endearing.

Watching a horror movie with Alhaitham was probably both the best and worst date idea, but he wasn’t going to complain - there wasn’t much more to ask for when you were nestled against him, so close that he could hear your synced heart palpitations.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham oneshot #genshin headcannons #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham #fluff #alhaitham imagine #i still tag like an ao3 writer #someone help

[xzho-writes]

congratulations on 500! you deserve it very muchhh 🥳

also, for the event, [zhongli] + [“aww, jealous”] please? thank you! <33

covetous

pairings: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: zhongli finds himself competing with something over your affections. he’s loath to admit that this thing so happens to be your neighbour’s little lizard you’ve agreed to pet-sit.

wc: 1k

warnings: brief spoilers for zhongli’s identity

a/n: reader is unaware of zhongli’s true identity in this fic for the sake of the plot. thank you for your request, nonnie! i hope this is to your liking :)

directory:

- ✦ masterlist - ✦ event info - ✦ event masterlist

always one to have his emotions in check, zhongli can’t honestly pinpoint a moment in his life where he’s ever felt this… irked. until now, that is.

the poor man struggles to keep a straight face as he watches you interact with the little scaly creature scampering across your lap.

although time is insignificant to the former god, it feels as if it’s been years since you’ve last acknowledged his presence.

if you were paying more attention to him, he thinks, uncharacteristically sourly, you’d notice how his eyebrows crease and lips twitch as he fights to keep a growing frown at bay.

sharp eyes hone in on the way you coo at the small thing, your finger affectionately scratching the underside of its chin whilst your others smoothed over the scales on its back.

he also thinks the massive smile you have on should be directed towards him and not the offending lizard laying spoiled in your lap.

have you always been this fond of reptiles? how would you react, then, if you found out that he—

“who’s a good little dragon?!” suddenly comes your animated voice, cutting him out of his bitter reverie.

his ears perk up at your question, at the word dragon, but quickly finds that you’re still speaking to the small lizard.

right… for a the slightest fraction of a second he thinks you’re talking to him, but then it dawns on him that you haven’t the slightest clue of his identity just yet.

“yes you are! yes you are!” you squeal.

he exhales curtly- there’s no need to be upset. perhaps he ought to suggest that it’s time for your little friend to catch some rest in their cage. a fist goes up to cover his mouth as he coughs to gain your attention.

but you don’t look up at him. no, you’re still babying that scaly thing on your lap. he feels one eye twitch at your obliviousness. surely you weren’t ignoring him?

you’d never do that… right?

he tries again but clears his throat louder. thankfully you respond this time, but it took you a while to finally place your eyes on his amber ones. ah well, at least he has your attention now. a smile finally seeps it’s way onto zhongli’s face.

“it’s getting quite late, my dear. why don’t you put- ah, what was its name again…?” he trails off uncertainly, genuinely forgetting what to call the creature by.

you correct him in a tone much happier than he’d like. his eye twitches for the second time.

“arval!”

zhongli finds himself, yet again, struggling to maintain a calm facade. he’s about to continue his question, mouth open and ready to form the words, when you interrupt him with a pout.

“and don’t go around calling arval an ‘it’. arval is a he, i’ll have you know.”

zhongli opens and closes his mouth once, twice as if taken aback, before huffing. the man mutters a halfhearted apology if only to appease you. he certainly didn’t mean it genuinely.

“of course, my apologies. why don’t you put… arval,” the name feels odd in his mouth, uncomfortable. he almost wants to spit it out. “back in his enclosure?”

arval turns his attention away from you and onto zhongli at the call of his name, curiously tilting his head as if to scrutinise your boyfriend. the little creature burrows itself further into the crook of your elbow, relishing in the warmth of your arms that zhongli thought would be his and his alone.

and then it clicks.

the former prime of the adepti finds himself locked in a heated staring competition with your lizard friend, and it’s only at this does he realise why he feels so bothered.

arval’s colouring makes him appear uncannily similar to zhongli’s previous exuvia- scales as dark as chocolate, ridges the colour of warm yellow and a pair of striking, golden eyes.

yes; it feels as if he’s staring at a younger version of himself, at morax- the once headstrong and prideful adepti. well… it certainly seems like your friend is rather cocky, what with the way it leers at zhongli with a cheeky grin as if to say, “you wish you were me.”

the lizard wasn’t grinning, of course. lizards don’t smile- can’t smile. zhongli was grasping at straws and he knew he was, he’s no fool, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to justify his emotions.

you’re silent as you watch this interaction, wondering why the atmosphere suddenly became so tense, when you finally catch a good look at zhongli’s expression- at the subtle downturn of his thin lips. the obvious furrow in his fair brows.

it feels as if a lightbulb just flashed in your head.

a sly, knowing smile sneaks its way onto your visage and you slowly turn towards your lover seated next to you. he shifts uncomfortably.

zhongli has seen this look on your face one too many times and now dreads the fact that it’s directed towards him. his eyes look away, look at anything but you.

you’ve figured him out.

“zhongli…” you begin, and he can practically hear the mischief in your voice.

please don’t say it, he begs internally.

but you do anyway.

“are you…” there’s a drawl to your voice as if to prolong his torture. as if you enjoyed tormenting him so. he’s certain he looks flushed by now.

“jealous?”

…jealous.

the suggestion sinks deep into his conscience and solidifies the burning sensation in his cheeks.

zhongli has to stifle the ever-looming feeling of embarrassment from swallowing him whole. the notion was simply preposterous to the man. he does not feel jealous. he is not a jealous man.

or so he tells himself.

his silence speaks volumes to you and you can’t help but burst out laughing at your boyfriend.

“you—” you’re wheezing now, one hand clutching your stomach as the other gently cradles arval to prevent him from falling off your laughing form. “you can’t be serious!”

your boisterous laughter echoes off the four walls of your shared home, and your lover concludes that he’s never felt so ashamed of himself- never felt so sheepish. never wanted to lock himself in your bedroom and disappear into thin air so badly.

poor zhongli can only continue to face away from you as he slides one gloved hand down his face, groaning and trying his damnest to ease the now distinct flush on his rosy cheeks.

he stands abruptly so as to not have to deal with anymore of your teasing jests.

“…i shall go fetch his enclosure.”

taglist

- ✦ @irethepotato , @gloomybow1 , @pinkuberii , @fiannee

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin fic #genshin impact fic #- ✦ ☕️ 500 event

[scotianostra]

On March 1st 1979 Scots voted in favour of Devolution, but failed to reach the required 40% of the population in favour of implementing it - due to 36% of the electorate not voting.

THE PLOT.

The introduction of devolution legislation in 1976 was largely the product of nationalist pressures on the Government. James Callaghan's Labour government had a majority of only three after the 1974 (October) election and by 1977 had no majority at all after a series of by-election defeats. The government was therefore vulnerable to pressures from the Scottish National Party and Plaid Cymru, who between them won 14 seats at the election (SNP 11, Plaid Cymru 3). The Kilbrandon commission had reported in 1974, recommending the establishment of a Scottish parliament and endorsing the principle of devolution.

A combined Scotland and Wales Bill was introduced in November 1976. It gained a second reading only after referendums in both Scotland and Wales had been conceded. The Shadow Secretary of State for Scotland, Alick Buchanan-Smith, and one of his front benchers, Malcolm Rifkind, resigned their posts when the Shadow Cabinet decided to oppose its second reading. On the first day of committee 350 amendments were put down. Michael Foot, (then Lord President and Cabinet Minister responsible for the devolution bill) was reluctant to impose a guillotine. After nearly 100 hours of debate only three and a half clauses of the bill had been considered. A guillotine motion was tabled but defeated in February 1977. The Bill was withdrawn.

In November 1977 separate Bills for Scotland and Wales were introduced, with support from the Liberals. This reduced opposition from those who had previously opposed the combined Bill on the grounds that the Welsh did not really want devolution. This time the guillotine motion was won.

As the committee stage was nearing its end, it scrutinised an amendment from Labour backbencher George Cunningham. It required the Secretary of State to lay before Parliament an order repealing the Act unless at least 40% of the eligible electorate voted "yes". The amendment was strongly opposed by the Government, but they lost the vote by 166 votes to 151.

In the referendum, on 1st March 1979, Scotland voted in favour of devolution by 52% to 48% - but only 32.9% of the electorate had joined the majority. In Wales the vote was against devolution, by 80% to 20%. The Acts were repealed the next month.

The Government was not helped by the extent of internal dissent within the Labour party. There was an active Labour 'Vote No' campaign in Scotland, of which Brian Wilson was Chairman, and Robin Cook a Vice-Chairman together with Tam Dalyell.

In Wales, Neil Kinnock was among those who campaigned for a "no" vote. During the last few days of the campaign in Wales, the pro-devolution Labour party -TUC group argued that a "No" vote would be a vote for the Tories, and a vote against the Government. This was a gamble that did not pay off; the scale of the "No" victory meant that those who had campaigned against the government could feel vindicated.

A motion of no confidence in the government was tabled by the Conservatives and supported by the SNP, the Liberals and eight Ulster Unionists. This motion was carried by one vote on 28th March 1979. The next day Callaghan announced that Parliament would be dissolved.

The 1979 Results:

Scotland: Question: Do you want the provisions of the Scotland Act 1978 to be put into effect ?

Yes 1,230,937 (51.6%)

No 1,153, 502 (48.4%)

Rejected ballot papers 3,133

Electorate 3, 747,112

Turnout 63.6%

But, we Scots are known the world over for this saying. Try, try and try again we did and won our parliament. We did and we put the party in powder who would take us to freedom. We will never give up our fight to be an Independent country once more.

#scotland #scottish #history #devolution #rigged vote #self determination