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xcrust · 4 months

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Now in Technicolor

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss x Reader Insert

“Tune in folks! demons and damned souls, welcome back to the sultry airwaves of Hell's very own station. I must say, dear listeners, Hell has a certain charm, doesn't it? A cacophony of screams, the crackle of flames, and the subtle whispers of secrets that linger in the shadows. It's a splendid orchestra of despair, and I am here to be your guide through the infernal playlist”

You expected the man to be insane but you didn't expect him to be so unshameful.

“So, grab a pitchfork, kick back, and let the music of the damned serenade your darkened souls! Now let's talk about my latest massacre-”

As of the moment you're not actually with him. Though him doing his broadcast that reigns in all of hell almost feels like he's still beside you all along. As your point of freedom away from your family you decided it was best to get to know hell from the very people that walked the streets.

Since he began taking you under his wing, you decided to stay with him till you find your place to settle down.

You were an early riser so the radio was not really a bother. The weird universal agreement to decide night and day here is such a fascination to you. Nevertheless being hell meant there was never a time without someone awake causing chaos. The game plan of working your way up the charts is what your dad always said while growing up, "Don't take shit from other demons”. Starting with that is to gain a more hopeful advantage in knowing the people.

“Watch this!” a really grimy voice screamed out. Looking that way you could see a few imps running around gathering people's attention.

One taller than the average imp stood with horns adorned in flickering embers, cackling with glee as he addressed his chaotic minions. "Listen up, you fiendish crap! I think it's time to start a new and take back what should be rightfully ours”

In the heart of pentagram city, the joy that you get from seeing the disaster is always so fulfilling. You may be new to these parts but boy does it give you a rush.

A sleek abyssal demon slinked through the crowd, leaving a trail of illusions in its wake. The demon could not only morph into various grotesque forms but the path that it was leaving behind was startling and amusing onlookers. As it danced between the dimensions of reality and illusion, confused demons stumbled into each other, inadvertently causing a chain reaction of minor skirmishes and squabbles. But what you didn't expect was for him to come up to you.

“They do this every week, by now it should get through their heads no one is going to listen” His voice was deep. It was such a buttery kind of smooth.

“I don't know there seems to be a crowd starting” with a smile you look up at him to see an amused look on his face.

The scene in front of you did intrigue you a lot. The bottom of the food chain in hell trying to make a voice for themselves. Their treatment is a peculiar mix of disdain and indifference. Larger demons may kick an imp out of the way without a second thought or summon them with a snap of their fingers for trivial purposes. Imps are often subjected to the capricious whims of their more powerful counterparts, enduring cruel pranks and occasional bouts of aggression.

Though you never thought that, though treated as the lowest rung of the demonic hierarchy, imps often find themselves at the mercy of their more powerful counterparts. They serve as the labor force, taking on a myriad of roles and responsibilities that range from menial tasks to dangerous assignments. Whether it's cleaning the twisted architecture of demonic structures or scurrying about as messengers delivering missives between the higher-ups, imps are ubiquitous fixtures in the daily hustle of Hell

“The pride ring is the top show in these parts and what do we get?! We get booted to the side and have to deal with the hypocrisy of these stupid standards!!” Those who spoke up before started chanting about rights for imps.

Certainly something that you would stand behind. Maybe it's a closed minded thought process but what was the point of souls from earth having more respect than the ones from here?

The heartbreaking sight was to see them run out. Demons of all kinds were starting to riot against them. In the face of adversity, the mischievous imps vowed to continue their antics, proving that even the smallest creatures could leave an indelible mark on the tumultuous canvas of Hell The Hellraisers disappear into the chaotic crowd, leaving a trail of bewildered demons and a street strewn with toppled stalls. with mayhem reigning supreme in the darkened streets.

“It's stupid and kinda sad to watch” The man stood beside you huffing out.

“Aren't you a hypocrite, you're an earthborn yourself aren't you?” the ego that these people have never stops amazing you everyday.

“Yeah… just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm set in stone as a bad person… Though looking at you, I'd guess you're like myself but you look almost a little too perfect for a human” crossing his arms he looked at you.

“That's because im-! You know who you are anyways dickbag” This guy was seriously putting you off. Comparing you to whatever those disappointments are.

“Pump the hate breaks… I'm Walter by the way.. Since you asked." The cadence of his voice was so politician based that it could lead you to go insane.

As the chaos unfolded around you, Walter's nonchalant demeanor seemed to contrast sharply with the tumultuous scene. The imps' attempts to rally for their rights had escalated into a full-blown street brawl, with demons of varying sizes and shapes joining the fray. The air resonated with shouts, roars, and the occasional yelp from an imp caught in the crossfire.

"Quite the spectacle they're putting on, isn't it?" Walter questions raising an eyebrow

You observed the chaos with a mix of fascination and concern. The imps were outnumbered and outmatched, yet their resilience and determination to stand up against the status quo intrigued you.

"Yeah, it is," you replied, eyes still fixed on the scene. "Seems like they're fed up with being pushed around."

Walter chuckled, a dry sound that echoed through the cacophony. "Oh, they've been trying to make a statement for ages. It's almost cute."

"Cute?" You shot him a disapproving look. "They're fighting for their rights. It's not cute; it's necessary."

Walter's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shrugged, unimpressed. "Necessary, maybe. But in Hell, it's a matter of survival. Those little imps are just making noise in a world that won't listen."

The riot continued to escalate, with fiery projectiles, illusions, and general pandemonium swirling around. Amidst the chaos, a trio of larger demons emerged, their expressions twisted into malicious grins.

"Looks like the big guns are stepping in. This is where it gets interesting." you said while stepping back to not get caught in the crossfire. Values and morals aside, sometimes seeing stuff play out is widely more interesting than anything else. Fuck you sounded sadistic.

The trio of demons seemed to relish the opportunity to quash the imp uprising. With a wave of their hands, they conjured dark energy, sending shockwaves through the crowd of imps. You could see the smaller demons being tossed aside like ragdolls, their attempts at resistance quickly crushed.

You felt a surge of empathy for the imps, caught in a cycle of oppression and rebellion. However, Walter's detached demeanor left you conflicted. Was he merely observing the chaos, or did he revel in the anarchy that unfolded before him?

Leaning into you his dark haze felt almost suffocating. "Well, darling, what do you think? Will the imps triumph or become another forgotten footnote in Hell's sordid history?"

The question lingered in the air, emphasizing the harsh reality of Hell's hierarchy. The imps' plight seemed both desperate and valiant, a stark reminder that even in Hell, some fought for a semblance of dignity and recognition.

“Whatever, if this is just a game to you, I hope your luck runs out” you remark before heading out of the city center. Being around him made you miss the annoying voice of alastor.

Walking away from him was the easiest thing that you could do. His attempt to engage you in conversation, using terms like "darling" with a sly smile, only added to your growing irritation. It felt like he was mocking not only the imps but also your own principles and values.

The crimson glow of dawn began to seep through the curtains of Alastor's luxurious suite of his radio booth, signaling the end of another night's radio broadcast. The room, adorned with vintage furnishings and an air of refined chaos, bore witness to the aftermath of Alastor's nocturnal endeavors.

reclined in an opulent armchair, a contented smirk playing on his lips. The room still echoed with the faint whispers of his charismatic voice, which had reached every corner of Hell during the broadcast. The radio equipment, adorned with dials and adorned in a distinct retro aesthetic, hummed softly, now temporarily dormant.

Alastor found his thoughts occasionally drifting to the enigmatic (Y/n). a peculiar newcomer to Hell or at least to what he thinks. had managed to capture the attention of the radio demon in a way that he couldn't quite dismiss. The glimmers of defiance in (Y/n)'s gaze during their encounters had not gone unnoticed. Alastor, who revealed in the unexpected and the unconventional, found a peculiar satisfaction in the mystery that surrounded them. In Hell, where familiarity often bred contempt, the unknown was a rare and exhilarating novelty.

As the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, Alastor's posture shifted. He rose from the chair, his movements graceful and deliberate. Despite the seemingly chaotic nature of his radio persona, there was an undeniable elegance to his every action.

Alastor pondered the significance of this newcomer's journey through the infernal landscape. Why could he feel such raw power? Though why is it that he is reminded of himself when thinking about them.

Walking over to a nearby table, Alastor poured himself a cup of tea. The delicate porcelain clinked softly against the saucer as he sipped the hot beverage. The tranquility of the moment contrasted with the lively chaos he had orchestrated just hours ago.

Thinking back to last night, With a casual flick of his wrist, when he summoned ethereal tendrils that danced like shadows in the night. These spectral appendages slithered through the air, reaching out to the trembling souls and ensnaring them in a web of malevolent energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under his influence, distorting the surroundings into a nightmarish landscape.

Alastor's mind, ever calculating, reflected on the success of the night's broadcast. The intertwining melodies of jazz and hellish commentary had woven a tapestry of entertainment, capturing the attention of listeners from the lowliest imps to the loftiest demons. The echoes of laughter and applause lingered in his mind like a symphony of souls.

As the jazz tunes from a nearby record player filled the air, Alastor reclined in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. The prospect of weaving the reader into the ongoing narrative of Hell sparked a mischievous glint in his eyes. (Y/n), in their apparent defiance of the expected norms, had become a wild card in the devil's deck of amusement.

Getting up to Leisurely strolling through the lavish suite, Alastor glanced at a vintage record player. He selected a vinyl record, the soothing crackle of the needle finding its groove as the melodic tunes of an old jazz number filled the room. The music, a stark departure from the energetic chaos of his radio show, created an ambiance of refined tranquility.

From below his window he sees these peculiar picture shows from down below.

"My, my, attempting to disturb the delicate balance of my little corner of Hell? How utterly quaint.”

“Hey! I'm back! Damn, is it a lively scene out there,” you call out as you stride into your shared living space.

Alastor, reclining on a vintage armchair, smirks in response. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), chaos is the very essence of this delightful realm. One must learn to appreciate the symphony of suffering that plays around us."

"Yeah, well, it's just something that I'll make work in my hand,” you reply, taking a moment to glance around the eclectic decor of your hellish abode.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor stands up abruptly. "I know you just got back, but we are going out!" His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can tell he has something interesting in mind.

“Wait, I think I had my share—” you try to speak out before being abruptly grabbed by the arm.

“Come on, my dear!” In a flash, you find yourself whisked out of the apartment, leaving behind the familiar surroundings for whatever adventure Alastor has in store.

"Alastor, where are we even going?" you asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. His usual grin widened, revealing a hint of mischief.

"Patience, my dear (Y/n). I have something intriguing to show you," Alastor replied, his voice carrying an air of secrecy.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "I thought it would be delightful to pay a visit to our esteemed TV demon. After all, shouldn't we take a look at all kinds of media?"

Before you could voice your reservations, Alastor pushed open the doors of the Vox Network headquarters, leading you into the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels stood guard, and Vox's voice echoed through the room.

"Ah, Alastor! A pleasure to have you in the building! , What a delightful surprise," a booming voice echoed from the center of the room. Vox, the flamboyant TV demon, materialized in a cloud of static. His slick, metallic appearance glowed in an array of colors, and his screen-like face displayed a perpetually changing expression. his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Vox extended a hand towards Alastor. the radio demon simply walked past to which earned a small glitch seen at the corner of his screen.

“Seems you've brought a pet?” The fact that no one knew who you were was starting to get on your nerves. Calling you a pet? Well that's something that will make you riot.

In the face of Vox's condescending remark, you felt a spark of irritation flicker within you. Alastor's dismissal of the TV demon's extended hand had left a peculiar glitch on Vox's screen, a subtle indication that the flamboyant host wasn't accustomed to being ignored.

"No one's anyone's pet," you retorted, asserting yourself in the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels glanced in your direction, their mechanical eyes narrowing as if registering an unexpected anomaly.

Vox's screen shifted to an intrigued expression, the colors dancing in an erratic display. "Ah, a voice from the shadows! I must confess, I wasn't aware we had a new player in this delightful game."

Alastor, leaning against a holographic display, observed the unfolding interaction with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "She's no pet, Vox. Just someone with a taste for chaos and curiosity about your little empire."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the sleek surroundings. "Chaos and curiosity, my favorite combination! How intriguing! So, (Y/n), what brings you into our glamorous world today?"

You crossed your arms, a defiant gleam in your eyes. "I'm not here to be entertained or become anyone's spectacle if thats what youre thinking.”

Alastor stepped in “We just thought we'd see what all the fuss is about."

Vox's screen displayed a mix of amusement and curiosity. "A renegade spirit, I like it! But you're in the presence of yours truly and We don't do small things here. Let's skip the foreplay and get into it. How about a little deal? I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

You eyed Vox skeptically, wary of the gleam in his screen. Alastor, seemingly unfazed, glanced at you with a sly grin. "Go on, (Y/n), entertain his offer. He has no power or specialty. We might find something amusing in his little game."

“Ok first fuck you alastor and no way in the seven rings would I join you I wouldnt join anyone” The prospect of dealing with Vox made your skin crawl, but the allure of navigating Hell's media empire intrigued you.

Vox's screen flickered with a mix of surprise and subtle annoyance as you firmly rejected his proposition. The colors on his metallic visage swirled in a display of shifting hues, mirroring the complex emotions running through the TV demon's circuits.

"Well, well, aren't you a feisty one, Are you sure about not joining anyone? You seem like a loyal dog to that freak" Vox mused

Your resolve remains unshaken, and you meet Vox's screen with a defiant gaze. "I don't need your offers, Vox. I'll find my own way through Hell's chaos."

Vox's laughter echoed through the opulent reception area, a mix of genuine amusement and an underlying sense of challenge. "Very well, (Y/n). Should you change your mind or seek a taste of the limelight, you know where to find me.”

What a bitch… At this point you were at your limit so you walked out to the side of the room to not entertain this conversation. The fucking nerve of these people. Even Alastor was being a little bit of a shit at the moment.

“There's a certain allure to the unknown, wouldn't you say?" Vox pondered aloud, his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Alastor, still leaning against the holographic display, turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, my dear.”

Alastor's antlers grew as he stood before Vox, his crimson eyes piercing

"Ah, Vox, my dear fellow," Alastor began, his voice carrying a melodic tone laced with a subtle threat. "I hope you enjoyed the rejection dance my little friend here performed. Now, let's get one thing clear – I don't dance to anyone's tune, especially not yours. You might be the new shiny toy right now but people always come back to the original"

Vox's screen glitched momentarily, revealing a flicker of irritation.

"What's the meaning of this, Alastor?" Vox demanded, his voice losing some of its usual charisma and taking on a sharper edge. "You come here and start bitching at me about not joining me?! We've already established that”

“You underestimate the consequences of refusing me, Alastor," Vox hissed, his voice losing its previous charm entirely. "This will be my realm to control, and those who reject my advances often find themselves in a far less favorable position."

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing in the extravagant reception area. "Consequences, Vox? I've faced worse in my time. Your attempts to control the narrative may work on the masses, but not on someone who knows the art of chaos."

As Alastor turned to leave, Vox seethed with frustration. The TV demon couldn't fathom being denied, and Alastor's rejection left a lingering tension in the air. Vox's screen displayed an animated storm of chaotic colors.

A surge of annoyance swept over you. Alastor's encouragement of Vox and his apparent amusement at the situation grated on the reader's nerves. The reader couldn't fathom why he enabled the TV demon's actions especially considering the TV demon's manipulative and self-serving nature. To make matters worse it really felt like he was making fun of you.

“Fuck off Alastor”

"(Y/n), this is Hell, and power here is earned through deals and influence. If you want to make your mark, you have to start making deals," Alastor advised in a tone that was both casual and instructional. His words resonated with a hint of amusement, as if he relished the idea of the reader navigating the treacherous landscape of Hell.

“I'm not some social experiment, why are you still here?” however, was taken aback by Alastor's nonchalant attitude toward the situation. The idea of making deals in exchange for souls seemed like a slippery slope, and the reader wasn't sure if they were ready to embrace such a cutthroat approach

“Embrace it, and you'll see just how intoxicating the taste of power can be." he replied

If they were to survive and thrive in Hell, understanding the art of making deals was a necessary skill. With a determined nod, they acknowledged Alastor's guidance.

"Alright, Alastor. Teach me the ropes. I might as well learn how to play this game if I'm going to survive in Hell," the reader conceded, a resolute glint in their eyes.

“Im staying with you, but if you even think about being an ass while other people are around you're going to be counting your last minutes”

“Doll, if you can barely stand up for yourself, I don't think I have anything to worry about,” he laughed out.

He's seriously pushing your buttons right now.

“As an overlord, you have dominion over a specific territory or domain within Hell. This grants you considerable authority and control over the demons and souls, you want that right? Power?” he asked.

All of a sudden you heard a loud bash of commotion coming from a group of demons that appeared to be fighting.

Pushing through the crowd, they discovered a group of demons surrounding none other than Walter.

One of the larger demons, a hulking figure with horns resembling twisted spires, look with disdain. "This fool thinks he can waltz into our territory and act like he owns the place."

Walter, bloodied but defiant, attempted to maintain his composure. "Now, now, gentlemen, there's no need for such hostility. Let's talk this out civilly."

The demons surrounding Walter scoffed at his attempts at diplomacy, clearly unimpressed. The reader couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance at Walter's earlier arrogance.

"Perhaps, my dear (Y/n), we should let this play out. It's always entertaining to witness the ebb and flow of power dynamics in Hell," Alastor mused, his eyes glinting with a sinister delight.

"Come on! Do something about this!!, you can't just stand there and watch!" Walter's voice cracked with a mixture of pain and panic as he pleaded for help.

"My, my, Walter, seems like you've landed yourself in quite a bind. Who would have thought our charismatic friend would face such a predicament?" you said out loud

“please! I'm not cut out for this kind of roughing up!" Walter's words were desperate, his eyes pleading for intervention. The demons surrounding him laughed, reveling in his vulnerability

“Oh please you were such a bigshot earlier, get yourself out of this mess”

ignoring the demons' taunts, you whispered out a proposal which the smoked and leaned in closer to Walter and whispered the terms of the deal. The specifics echoed in the demonic air, forming an unspoken pact that hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"Deal," Walter agreed, relief washing over him as the terms were settled. The demons, though momentarily confused, soon found themselves turned to dust.

Alastor observed the scene with a raised brow, intrigued by the sudden turn of events. The reader's willingness to strike a deal for Walter's soul added a new layer of complexity

Looking back up to him and smiled, “is this what you wanted?”

As Alastor continued to observe the chaotic scene unfolding before him, a smirk played on his lips. The demons surrounding Walter, still reveling in the prospect of his impending downfall, were oblivious to the subtle yet profound shift in the power dynamics.

"Well, well, it seems you've decided to make a deal. How delightful!" Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The atmosphere shifted, charged with an unspoken agreement between you and Walter.

“Now, now, gentlemen, let's not keep our eager audience waiting. After all, this is shaping up to be quite the dramatic performance,” Alastor commented looking at the rest of the demons that just fell dead, staring at the corpses with a dark amusement lacing his words. He leaned casually against a nearby demonic structure, his radio-like grin widening.

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iddybiddysquish · 4 months

Text

Sukuna x Reader - Cursed Womb

Plot Description: reader insert for a chunk of the cursed womb arc

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Gender: AFAB

Warnings: Serious non-con/rape; oral receiving; creampie; branding; breeding kink

Notes: think of any tags, let me know. And yes, I did in fact copy words for word the subtitles for this. Have I also done it for all of season 1... quite possibly ahaha

Also sorry for not posting for a while. I'm working on an original book and it's sapping all of my creative energy lmaoooo

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Itadori removed his belt, tying it around his arm to stop the blood loss.

“I can’t escape after it’s gotten this close!” Itadori muttered, still tying the tourniquet, “Hey Sukuna! If I die, you die too, right?

“If you don’t want that, then help me out!”

“Nope!” he grinned, popping up on his cheek, gaining my attention, “Even if the parts of me inside you die, there are eighteen other fragments of my soul.

“Still, irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body. If you want to switch, go ahead and switch. But once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can!

“Then I’ll go for that woman! She’s a lively one. I’ll have fun with her.

“And of course there's her.” he chimed looking at me, making me sweat, “I've had my eye on her since you swallowed my finger. I'll be sure to take my time on you.” He added, speaking to me this time. I gulped.

“I’m not going to let you do that.” Itadori barely whispered in horror.

“I bet. But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die.”

“Don’t listen to Sukuna, Yuji.” I uttered, scoffing at the cursed spirit, who eyed me curiously, “He’s trying to rile you up. And I can tell it’s working!

“I won’t let anything else happen to you two.” I concluded, “I’ll die before that happens.” I vowed.

“Cute, cute!” Sukuna cackled, “You think you can fight it, hm?

“You’re weak-”

“Can it, four eyes-”

The next thing we knew, the creature shot something out of its mouth at us, causing a small explosion, causing our ears to ring, unable to hear anything else. That’s when I realised it didn’t use a technique - a jujutsu.

It was pure cursed energy that it shot at us.

‘That’s possible…?’

“Fushiguro!” Itadori cried through the fog but it was so hard to hear, “(L/N)!” I shook my head, trying to get rid of the ringing that had all but ruined my hearing for the moment. But as he called both our names again we both snapped out of it, “Take Kugisaki and (L/N) and get out of here! I’ll keep this one busy until you three are out. As soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal. Once you do…

“I’ll switch with Sukuna.”

“You know you can’t do that!” Fushiguro yelled, “Not with only one arm against a special-grade!”

“Look closer.” he explained, nodding towards the creature, “It’s having fun.” Fushiguro gasped, “It’s obviously toying with us.” I sighed and nodded, knowing this all too well, “I can at least buy us some time.”

“No!”

“Fushiguro! Please.”

“I’m going nowhere.” I exclaimed sharply, “Fushiguro will find Kugisaki with his Shikigami and get her out of here.

“But I will stay here.” I explained.

“No!” both yelled looking over at me sharply. I glared.

“I’m immune to curses.” I explained quickly, “I will be untouchable to both Sukuna and this curse.

“I need to stay to ensure your safety since I can’t heal you. I’ll then distract him long enough for you all to get out.”

“No way!” Itadori barked as Fushiguro shook his head.

“She’s right, Itadori!” He explained quickly, “If anyone has any chance of fighting this thing, it’s (L/N)-senpai!”

“I can’t leave.” Itadori concluded, “I refuse.”

“We can’t release Sukuna!” I argued, dodging the creatures next attack as it watched us in glee, “It will be too dangerous-”

“I won’t let you die, either!” Itadori concluded, “You can’t phase through it forever, right?” I froze at that.

We hadn’t found my limit yet. But, according to Gojo, my cursed energy is the most efficient he’s seen. And because of my supposed mixed heritage to Sugawara Michizane and the other two Big Three Vengeful Spirits of Japan, I have large levels of cursed energy, larger than Gojo has seen before. I haven’t run out before, but who knew how long it would be before that would happen, especially if I had to wait for a signal from Fushiguro. And that’s ignoring if I need to produce a lot of positive energy to heal both Itadori and I.

Itadori was right. We needed Sukuna.

“Fine.” I concluded, “Stay with me, keep close. I’m going to try and protect you.”

“But, (L/N)-senpai-”

“I’m staying. Sukuna is a last resort, okay?” I explained quickly, earning a sharp nod. I nodded back before ordering Fushiguro to leave. To my surprise, when he started running, he grabbed the name tag of the prisoner on his way out.

Once Fushiguro was out, we both got into stance, watching the curse as we thought of a game plan. Itadori refused to stay behind me, determined to protect me, despite my desperation to make him stay behind me so that I could protect him.

The curse in retort pulled off his trousers, making me sweat in confusion as it chuckled, leaving only its undergarments. I looked over at Itadori, who shrugged, before looking back at the curse. Itadori snorted.

“Trying to say it’s easier to move around in your underwear?”

“I mean, I feel you there, bro.” I admitted, rolling my shoulders, “If it were appropriate that’s how I’d live.”

Itadori wanted to joke, but he was too locked into the danger of the situation at hand. All as he contemplated on what to do.

I, on the other hand, went for the curse. From my training, I continued to isolate areas with Immunity so that I could still attack whilst not taking hits. So that’s what I did as I went to punch the curse when it tried to send cursed energy my way, dodging before making contact.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t with his face, but his palm, making me sweat as he laughed at me.

‘Fast…!’

Opening my palm, I grasped his hand and pulled him to me, catching him off guard, before headbutting him in the face with cursed energy, causing some blood to splutter from him. Itadori then came in, ready to support. However, before I could get to him, the curse threw a wave of cursed energy at him, sending him flying into the wall.

“Yuji!” I cried, running over to him. But the curse was faster, grinning as he advanced on Itadori with a cursed energy sphere, punching him through the wall and sending him bouncing onto the floor, causing me to cry out his name again.

With a growl, I appeared behind the curse and went to kick it through the gap, only for it to appear behind me and shove me through with cursed energy, just as he had done with Itadori moments before, sending me flying and into the wall on the other side.

Itadori only rose up when he was able to snap out of his abused state, the curse having begun to charge up before unleashing horrendously strong cursed energy.

“Senpai!” he yelled as I groaned. However when I got up I cursed, eyes widening as he held his hand out, trying to fight the cursed energy beam going through him and into me.

That’s when I realised that I wasn’t activating Immunity. And also that I wasn’t injured by his cursed energy.

‘No… if anything I absorbed it.’ I realised, feeling stronger, ‘I have more cursed energy.’

Itadori was crying and bloody, the pain unimaginable as his fingers slowly began to disintegrate. He began to regret his actions regarding the cursed object and how he wanted to run and get away. About how he didn’t want to die.

And I could feel it in his cursed energy. But not as much as I felt the sadistic pleasure from the cursed energy I absorbed from the curse currently hurting my son.

‘Yuji…’

“Don’t think!” Itadori cried, what was remaining of his hands out before falling back and into the wall all over again.

It was enough to send me into sadistic rage, the curse laughing at my anger.

I gritted my teeth, running towards it at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of, ready to punch it in the face again. However, I disappeared before reappearing behind it. That’s when I kicked through his back and out the other side, making it scream and writhe.

Pulling my leg out I went to punch it in the face, but it threw me to the ground, winding me.

“I was so full of myself.” I heard Itadori utter to himself as he stared at the ground in front of him, “I thought I was strong. I thought I was at least strong enough to choose when I died.

“I’m weak!” he looked at his hand, fingertips gone as I continued to pull on the arms of the curse, slowly and painfully, my tears flowing at the sight of Itadori.

To my surprise he began to heal himself from my cursed enhanced motions. I rolled over, narrowly avoiding it’s kick as I backed up, ready to go toe-to-toe with the creature all over again.

Unfortunately for the curse, I would get better with each move he made. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t take some beatings, but I was prepared to. It meant I could fight.

Unfortunately, no matter my natural speed, I didn’t have the reflexes to match, causing him to send me flying into the wall again without cursed energy this time. I was embedded in it, passing out for a moment.

“(F/N)-senpai…” Itadori uttered when he saw me before shaking his head, “I’m far too weak!” he yelled, standing up. He gripped his head with what was left of his hands as he cried, “Augh, I don’t want to die! No! No way!”

“But… I am going to die!”

Itadori began to focus on his emotions before imagining putting it into his fist. He was ready to be useful, in his mind, before charging.

“Yuji…!” I mumbled, in a daze, only for the curse to grab his cursed energy enhanced fist, making me curse as I got out of the rubble, slowly, whilst healing myself. The curse laughed at him as I snarled.

“Don’t you dare!” I barked, sensing its next move, up and out of the rubble as quickly as I could be.

“Damn it!”

But all of a sudden there was a howl. A loud howl.

It was Fushiguro’s signal.

I breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe.

However, I realised quickly there was no defeating this curse between Itadori and I. So I nodded at Itadori and instantly Sukuna was released from Itadori’s mind, healing him just as instantly as the special-grade curse flinched back at his presence.

I was ready to run.

Unfortunately, he grabbed me with an unimpressed look on his face, making me gasp in surprise.

“What a thoroughly annoying brat. He’s obviously screwing with me.” he contemplated, fist to chin in thought, the other hand letting go of me, “Go nowhere.” he ordered, directed at me, before patting the scared cursed spirit on the shoulder, “Hold on a moment. I’m thinking right now.”

The curse nodded profusely as Sukuna continued to think aloud.

“What can I do to make that brat regret this?” After a few moments of thinking, he grinned, “Hey, let’s go kill some kids. I’ve got one in mind already.”

I gasped, retreating. I knew he was talking about Fushiguro and Kugisaki, and I realised quickly that this was bad. He was going to bring the curse to us to fight the three of us.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’

However, before I could retreat, to my shock, It hopped away, scared and prepared to hesitantly brawl despite Sukuna’s unthreatening demeanour. He motioned for him to follow, growing the hand back and adding, “Follow me.”

However, the creature began to panic, forming strong cursed energy into a ball with both hands before throwing it.

“S-Sukuna-!” I pointed, but he simply rolled his eyes at my attempt to warn him.

“Baka.” he paused as the attack bypassed him, hand out, before looking at his hand, “Ah, shit. I healed this one, too.” I blinked.

‘He was purposefully not healing it.’ I shook my head, ‘He used the reverse cursed technique.’

He put his hands in his pockets, looking back at the curse, “You don’t like walks?” he looked away, “Well, cursed spirits are usually supposed to stay where they’re born. Fine, fine. In that case…” he grinned, “You die here!” he exclaimed, rushing the cursed spirit and grabbing it by the face before it could so much as twitch, “Hey what’s the matter? You’re not finished already, are you?” the creature gritted its teeth as it attempted to rise up, shakily, “That’s it. Come on, try harder.”

From there he stomped on its head, pressure causing the archway we were standing on to collapse and crumble, causing us all to fall.

I screamed, but found myself floating in the air, something Sukuna noted with slight intrigue. I gasped in surprise.

‘Nullification… It allows me to hover.’ I realised, slowly descending into the water before looking for an escape. This was all whilst I saw the spirit grasping at Sukuna’s foot, only for Sukuna to cut off their remaining arm and chill on a piece of debris after it attempted to throw him in a circle.

“Even a cursed spirit,” he raised his hand, holding the arm of the cursed spirit, “would miss their arm, right?” He cackled maniacally as the creature fell into the water below them.

I wasn't completely dumb. This was my opportunity to escape.

So that's what I did, spinning as I carefully, and quietly, made my way through the walls.

“Oi, don't move.” I froze, turning back to look at Sukuna who was smirking my way. I gulped.

‘Shit…’

“I haven't forgotten about you. Just be patient and wait there for me, woman.”

I cursed again. That was definitely addressed to me.

So I decided to run. However he was in front of me before I could even process what was happening. Hand on my shoulder, he stopped me from moving forward, physically bringing me to the curse that was currently embedded in the wall. I gulped along with it.

“Don’t try me.” he warned, pushing me forward, “Sit here.”

I did as I was told as Sukuna turned back to the curse. That was when he spliced the curse into five and embedded it into the wall.

“Hey, did you know? We’re both classified as special-grade, apparently.” Sukuna noted, looking up at the curse with a grin, “Both you and me, man.”

The spirit began to regenerate, forcing itself shakily out of the wall one new limb at a time. Sukuna watched on, still grinning.

“Good job, special-grade. Keep trying.” before the cursed spirit jumped before him, “You look happy. Want me to praise you?

“But healing with cursed energy isn’t that hard for cursed spirits, unlike for humans. Neither you nor these brats really understand what curses truly are.

“This is a good opportunity, so I’ll show you… What real jujutsu is.” he concluded before putting his fingers together in a specific formation.

“Domain Expansion.” He closed his eyes before opening them again, revealing his domain, “Malevolent Shrine!” I gasped in shock, instantly activating Nullification to be safe from the attack. The creature made a gurgling noise before it was split into five, making me gasp again.

“S-Sukuna…” I muttered, shocked as I tried to deconstruct his technique, but it made my head hurt.

“I was planning to cut you in three slices, but you’re really weak.

“Oh, yeah,” he noted, pulling out the finger from the cavity in the curses’ chest, “and then there’s this.

“I’ll be taking this.” he concluded, lifting it up as the pieces of the curse lit up from damage.

“It’s over.” Sukuna exclaimed, “This sucks! If you’re gonna switch, just do it already!” When he was met with silence from Itadori, Sukuna added, “What’s the matter, brat?” It was then he realised something. And he grinned so wide and gave a shallow laugh.

He was in control and not Itadori.

So I waited and waited until Itadori would take over, sure it would happen at any moment. When it didn’t, I began to panic. And it was delicious in Sukuna’s eyes.

‘Shit…’

Before Sukuna could even turn to me, I was out of there, running. He tsked at me, rolling his eyes.

“I thought I told you-” he grinned, appearing in front of me, “-to wait!”

Freedom was so close, yet so far as I felt him grab ahold of my uniform at the scruff, choking me as he tore the neck of my fabric. I squeaked, faltering slightly in my speed as I ripped off the blazer before he grabbed my hair next, making me wince and eyes widen in surprise and pain.

“Come, now.” he grinned evilly, “There’s no need to fight the inevitable.” I snarled.

“Get fucked, Sukuna! Fuck you!” I snarled, earning a child-like giggle.

“Exactly.

“Now get on your knees, whore.” I snarled.

“No fucking way!” I growled, going to punch him in the stomach, only for him to grab my fist and swat it away as though it were nothing.

Sukuna watched with amusement as I clawed at his hand still in my hair as he forced me down, though I refused to kneel despite his attempts. I couldn’t help but snarl, pulling him by the arm and flipping him over onto his back, catching him off guard. Immediately I raised up and went to stomp on him, but he blocked it with a grin, grabbing ahold of my foot.

“That’s more like it. You do know it’ll make it worse for you, though, right?”

Pushing me, I fell over with a yelp and before I could process it, hitting my head, he was on me, face to face with a wicked grin.

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt flesh on flesh.” he chuckled, “And yours is especially soft. Like the most pliable cotton, threatening to spill delicious blood at any moment.” he mused, feeling along my cheek, tauntingly, “I bet you bruise beautifully.”

“Don’t.” I flinched as he caressed my side, going up and down my body with a teasing touch. He chuckled.

“All that bravado gone and what is left, hm?” he whispered into my ear as he pressed himself against me, “A worm.”

“Fuck you.” I spat.

“You haven’t pushed me away yet.” he remarked, “I’m hardly pinning you here. Maybe you are trained already.” as if realising he was right, I tried to push him off of me, but failed, earning a chuckle, “So weak.” I snarled at that notion, close to tears at how helpless I felt.

When I applied cursed energy, however, I found myself able to roll us and jumped back, ready to fight. Sukuna didn’t say anything, simply rolled his eyes and shoulders before putting his hands back in his pockets. He was casual, as if to say ‘fine if we must’ as I used my cursed energy to fight him.

He was surprised, actually, at how quick I was and how capable I had become after a few, albeit long, sessions with Gojo, Itadori and Fushiguro. He had to put some energy into the scenario in order to bat away my attacks.

So I ramped them up, going faster.

“You know, I theorised that Gojo let you hit him that day.” he grinned, “But now you’re starting to intrigue me with how quick you’re learning.” he admitted as I growled.

“What do you want me to say to that?”

“Gratitude would be nice.” I scoffed.

“I’ll show you gratitude when you switch back with Yuji.” he laughed.

“Fat chance.”

I was tiring. I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I feigned energy, but I was exhausted and overstimulated.

Sukuna was just too fast. Not to mention he was still doing this half heartedly. It made me realise how easy Gojo had been actually going with me during his sparring sessions. It also made me realise I needed to practise more. I needed more if I were going to go toe to toe with the beast that was Sukuna.

However Sukuna could read me like a book despite my attempts to mask. He knew when I was about to run away based on lacking energy, using the last of it to hopefully get me to safety. He could see the very moment I’d even thought I could.

And when I did, he was already there, gripping me close to his chest as though he’d teleported in front of me, making me squeak like a mouse, in his mind.

“You know, I can tell you’re getting tired.” he chuckled, “You can’t improve if the other person isn’t willing, can you?”

That was why I wasn’t improving. He wasn’t investing. And he watched as horror displayed itself on my features.

“Beautiful, really. You weren’t meant for fighting, were you?” he cooed, making me cringe as his nose rubbed mine before he chucked me through a few walls to his left. When that was over, he did the same only up.

“This ought to have tired you out.”

He then picked me up by the hair again and dragged me into the centre of the new room, throwing me down on the ground violently, causing craters and cracks to form before the floor caved in, making me fall to the lowest level of the building. I groaned, body littered with cuts, bruises and some broken bones as I coughed the dust out of my lungs. But still, I rose up, ignoring the pain as my body automatically healed itself and was already back in stance, something Sukuna noted with sincere intrigue.

“Oi, oi!” he clapped, cheerily, “You’re lasting longer than I expected! Durable, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

So I went for him again, finding more energy despite the dwindling supply. Sukuna watched, curious as I continued to attempt to battle him, resulting in sending me flying through more walls and up through the ceilings of the buildings and then back down through them all over again. And despite all of this, I continued to get into sparring position and then charging. It was impressive, he had to admit, that determination to win. It was quite attractive.

“I picked well!” he beamed, punching me in the gut, causing me to cough up blood, “You’re so determined. Maybe it wasn’t all talk.” he wondered as I staggered back, starting to feel the brunt of my attempts, “You tired out yet? I’m getting bored waiting for your tantrum to be over.” I snarled, remembering my purpose and finding more energy I didn’t even know I had.

I said nothing as I charged again, this time feigning my moves before twisting to create new ones. I harnessed my cursed technique as well as I could, adapting on the fly to his rebuttals. It got to the point that I thought I might be able to land a hit.

Until he vanished only to kick me into the ground behind me, winding me and thoroughly shattering my ribcage and sternum.

He chuckled before sitting on top of me as I wheezed, passing out for a moment before coming to as he gently began to caress my bleeding head. He began smearing it across my cheek when tears from the pain and fatigue fell, cooing at me. All whilst I tried to regain control over my own head, which was spinning. I didn’t know what was up or down and he liked the fucked up look on my features. He chuckled again.

“I kept your pretty face clean, huh?” he noted, continuing to caress my face as though it were fine china, “After all, I want something pretty to look at when I fuck.” he admitted before grinning down at me when I came to again, having passed out momentarily for the second time, “You prefer this, huh? Want to be romanced like I was Gojo?” I groaned my disagreement, but it only made him cackle more, “There must be someone you like.”

I spit out some blood onto his face in response, earning a maniacal grin.

“Don’t act so shy now. You know I already know your attraction to powerful men.” I tsked and rolled my eyes.

“Then you really don’t know me, huh?” I muttered horsley, shaking my head as I attempted to get my eyesight back, “I really am not that interested in men, women or otherwise unless there’s something they can give me.”

“Hm. I suppose we’re one in the same there.” he snickered, “How does that feel?” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re insane-” Shoving him off of me with all my strength so I was straddling him, dripping with sarcasm, “-we make a great match.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, feeling up my thighs through the gaps in my trousers. It was then he dragged his nails across my thighs, cutting them and making me wince and clench, before bringing the blood to his mouth. He groaned.

“So delicious for a whore-”

“I’m not a whore!” I snapped, slapping him across the face with cursed energy, causing his head to snap to the side, “I’m done with your shit! Either kill me or go away!”

I looked down at him in horror as I raised my hand, realisation of what I’d just done coming to the surface. So when he grinned, my heart fell into my ass all over again as I gulped.

‘I fucked up.’

“You still have fight. Adorable, really. I’ll allow it this one time.” he mused, gripping my thighs so hard they not only bled where his nails met my skin, but would bruise in large hand-shaped marks, “But I’m done playing.”

I knew what was coming next.

The next thing I know, everything was removed. My bra, underwear, trousers and overskirt, gone.

The seriousness of the situation dawned upon me further as the cold air nipped at me, raising the hairs on my skin as I shivered, causing me to let out an audible gasp. When he grinned up at me, hands still in a bruising grip on my thighs, I gulped, all three eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Better than I expected.” he admitted, licking his lips, “It’s been so long.” he grinned, reaching out to tweak my pierced nipple, but I slapped him away, earning a dark look.

“Do that again and I’ll cut it off.” he warned, making me whimper. However when I made a motion to move, to hide myself from his gaze, he pushed me onto my back before flipping onto me.

“S-Sukuna-!”

“Don’t beg.” He warned, lowly, “Unless it's to fill you with my seed.” My eyes widened as I began to panic.

As if sensing a whole new wave of protest, he grabbed my face and smashed my head into the floor. Once, twice, thrice. Just enough to know I wouldn’t do anything to stop him from completing his desires.

I groaned, dazed as he leaned back and observed me fully. So bare before him, he awed at the way my nipples stiffened in response to him barely touching them, indulging in tracing his fingers across all my piercings and loved the smell of my sex in the air.

“Too beautiful for a sorcerer.” he mused, moving my hair out of my face as he caressed and assaulted my body with his hands and eyes, “They should have kept you as a breeding tool. Then maybe you wouldn’t get pregnant with my child.”

I was too dazed to understand what he was saying. I watched as he nipped and sucked at my skin, peppering it with undesired attention, being cruel as he used his teeth and watched for my skin’s reaction. When it wasn’t satisfactory, he’d up his motions until he was fully biting my neck, collar bone, breasts and thighs, making me cry out in pain. I couldn't help my whimpers and moans, filter off in my dazed state.

“So responsive.” he chuckled. I didn’t take it in at all, even as he began salivating at my core, having moved lower and lower. He was nose deep as he began to lap at my juices. It was when he harshly sucked on my clit and I moaned his name, much to his amusement, that I realised what was going on and namely who the culprit was.

“S-stop…!” I uttered out, hand to my head as I attempted to stabilise myself.

However Sukuna didn’t stop. He continued to lick and suck harshly at my clit and lips in a cruel pace, flicking his tongue expertly against me as he lapped up my juices greedily. Sometimes he dipped into my clenching hole, just for an extra taste, curling it around. He considered this treating himself. And god did it taste so good; like nectar of the Gods.

When I started to squirm and pant, unable to fight him off any longer, he pinned my pelvis and thighs to the floor, open and exactly where he wanted them. And all I could do was cum on his tongue until he was done, body overstimulated and aching.

“Mh! N-no! No more- s’ too m-much!” I squeaked, pleading as if it would make any difference. Sukuna wasn’t so much interested in my pleasure - even my foggy brain could comprehend that.

No, he was trying to make this memorable. Traumatic. He also wanted to prove a point, which was that he could break me whilst also proving there would never be anyone better than him. There was nothing better than putting a bitch in their place.

I yelped as he nipped harshly on my clit when I tried to find purchase with my hands in his hair, so I clawed at the ground as I had another orgasm come and go, squirting my juices onto his face, something which made his cock jump to attention; he chose well.

Sukuna would stop when he wanted to stop. He would pay attention to my body, sure, but right now he was only interested in breaking me and his own pleasure. And right now he was indulging himself in a taste he hadn’t experienced in so, so long.

Thoroughly prepped, Sukuna didn’t waste time in pulling his cock out. However, I’d grown more lucid and began to kick and fuss, earning a slap to my tits.

“Don’t stop me. I will kill you.”

“You’ll kill me, anyway!”

“Not if you have a use.” he snickered cruelly before pulling me to meet his pelvis, cock rubbing against my folds, teasingly, smearing our fluids against one another, earning a shaky moan from Sukuna, “And you are useful.”

I grabbed at his face, his chest, his hair - anywhere I could get purchase - to try and shove him off in my weakened state. But I couldn’t do anything. He wasn’t even taking my attempts seriously, instead laughing down at me as lined up his cock with my entrance before slowly plunging in.

Instantly his face was contorted into something tense until he bottomed out, then it relaxed as he released a deep, shaky breath.

“Looks like you’re not a whore after all. So fucking tight…” he hissed as I cried, “I wonder what you’d feel like on my cock in my true form.” He snickered cruelly, “I’d split you in half with just one of them.”

Crying was all I could do as I tried to push him away using his chest as leverage. When I did, however, he pinned both wrists to the ground before pulling out, only to slam back in harshly, setting a brutal pace that had me unable to make any noise even if I’d wanted to.

Sukuna didn’t remember it feeling quite as good as this. No, he was sure this was all me. And it made him drunk on the sensation. Enough that he just wanted to bury himself in me and stay that way for a while, but he remembered the point of this exercise was more than to get him off.

No, this was about putting me in my place.

He hardly even considered that this could’ve been Itadori’s virginity he was taking for him, nor did he care. He also didn’t care for my feelings, either. In fact, he was revelling in my silent cries as he continued to pound into my wet cunt, obnoxious squelching and slapping noises reverberating off the walls of the concrete jungle we were in with each thrust.

Unsurprisingly, I was dead to the world by this point, pliant in his hold, enough that he was able to bend me in a mating press, pleasantly surprised by my flexibility as he got impossibly deeper inside whilst pushing my knees to my head, practically fucking my cervix. It was painful, but also pleasurable - pain I could take. But gaining any pleasure from this was the last thing I wanted.

I would not cum on his cock of all places.

But the way his cock buried itself inside of me, bruising that sweet spot at such a sickening pace was enough to leave me seeing stars as I dissociated.

“Still ready to fight?” he chuckled, “I’ll fuck that out of you-” He snarled, getting lost in the sensation of my hole quivering around him, milking him, “That’s right, take it all.”

He was getting close.

Suddenly I was violently slammed back into the driver’s seat as he folded me into a deeper mating press, wanting to see me cum as he choked me out. I shook my head, desperate to avoid it. Desperate not to cum. He chuckled, amused at this visible attempt, a vein popping on my forehead.

“What’s wrong? Don’t wanna cum?” he snickered.

It felt so damn good. But it was dirty and I didn’t want it.

“You’re going to cum on my cock.” Sukuna whispered harshly against my ear, not sparing me a glance as he watched himself enter and exit me, over and over rhythmically, sweaty forehead to my own. It was addicting to watch and with four eyes, he was more than capable of watching everything he wanted to - my face when I came and whatever came out of me as my climax washed over me, causing me to cry out as I squirted down his cock.

“S-Sukuna!” I found myself clawing at his back as he fucked me through my high. He laughed at me as I tried to find purchase, eyes rolling back so prettily.

“Beautiful, beautiful.” he sang, “Prepare yourself. I’m going to breed this tight cunt.” he grinned viciously, grip leaving my thighs to grasp directly at my hips, forcing me against him impossibly closer as he chased his own high, causing me to orgasm a second time.

“So easy to make you cum.” he chuckled airily, “Gonna do it again? Hm?” I shook my head violently as tears spilled. Whether it was from the earth shattering orgasms or the disgusting nature of them, I wasn’t sure. But all I knew is he was fucking me dumb and I didn’t like it. Especially at his next words.

“You cum when I tell you to, you got that Pet?” he warned, “Otherwise I won’t stop fucking you until you do.” he warned before chuckling, “Or maybe I’ll do both.” he grinned nodding as he huffed against me, “See how many orgasms I can get out of you.”

I knew I was doomed then. Because I was close and Sukuna knew it from the way I gripped him as he buried himself inside of me over and over again.

But I did what I was told. I held it off as much as I could. It’s not like I wanted to cum in the first place. But he could tell I was failing in my war against it, eyes screwed shut with tears falling as I babbled, squealed and panted in my attempts. He chuckled.

“Now. Cum now.” he barked in my ear, picking up the pace impossibly fast. I shook my head.

“Fuck you!” I snarled as I came, nails digging into his neck and back until they were surely bleeding. He didn’t care; revelled in it, in fact.

It was enough that he, proudly, could climax inside of me. However he didn’t let up. Instead, he continued to rut into me at the same brutal pace, as though he hadn’t cum at all, fucking his and my cum into me. It was then it became obvious that he was only interested in his own pleasure and watching me come undone all for the wrong reasons.

I was desperate for it to be over as he changed positions slightly, sitting up as he grasped my legs and pulled them to his chest. It reached new depths and I suspected that his cock had not only bruised my cervix but was downright fucking it from the blinding pain I was in.

I clawed at the ground until my fingers were bleeding. I couldn’t stop my cries and moans despite trying my best. I felt dirty. I felt used. And he was nowhere close to done based on how he was fucking into me so rhythmically. As though he was addicted.

And in a way he was. He was getting pussy drunk as he watched my tits bounce with each thrust. It was downright addictive.

He couldn’t let me go after this. No, he couldn’t let Gojo have me. It was rare he found a feisty woman he could dominate so well. Especially when he realised I had two vaginas for him to fuck; it was perfect, he concluded, scheming.

No, this was a dynamic he wanted to continue.

So, once I’d passed out as he continued to use me for his own pleasure, he made sure to mark me on my throat. Somewhere obvious. Somewhere anyone could be reminded of him. It was the same shape as the seal on his tongue whenever he spoke in Itadori’s body. And it linked to him.

He would know what I was doing at all times. He’d be able to keep track of me. He couldn’t help but laugh as he climaxed, leaving more bruises on me as he forced me to cum through my passed-out state, flicking my clit mercilessly, watching as I spasmed around him, more fluid shooting out and onto his pelvis despite my state.

This was exactly as he’d imagined it would be. Ne, better, even.

This couldn’t have gone better, and he was going to take his time to appreciate and indulge in it, that was sure.

I wasn't sure how long the whole act lasted. I lost track of how many rounds we went, how many times I came or how many times he came. I just know I was red raw and that my body was a bruised mess as he began to mark me with his nails and teeth, clawing and biting - and I mean clawing and biting - at me till I was bleeding and would likely scar. There were bruises everywhere and I was in agony.

I was left there by him until he was done using me, having passed out ages ago. When I came to he was walking away and I was alone. I winced, feeling everything hit me all at once.

I was butt-naked, covered in bruising, bites, scratches and hickeys. I was in pain as his cum pooled out of me and onto the floor, down my thighs.

I used my eyes, seeing Sukuna leave me alone, done with me and my breath hitched when I recognised the image of Fushiguro with him.

I didn’t have a hope in hell of helping him. And yet I stumbled to my feet, grabbing the jumpsuit from one of the dead inmates, not having anything else to cover myself with, before charging.

That was when he looked back at me, ready to use his cursed technique to be away with me. I snarled, dodging the attack with Immunity. But the bigger shock was the fact I was healing myself, without even realising it; it was subconscious and preemptive, which had Sukuna staring at me, finally seeing me as more than just an object.

“Oi, oi, oi!” he chuckled, “Even more potential!” he beamed, laughing maniacally. I glared as he added, “Maybe you were right and you have more use than just a cock sleeve. Look at you.” he cackled and immediately I grew suspicious, “I did cum in you, afterall. Only a woman interesting is worthy of my seed.

“Come on.” he motioned for me to run at him, “I’ll entertain you. See if you can implement positive energy with your fighting style.” he offered, making me gasp.

This was a turn. Originally he was planning to just use me to get off and leave, keeping me alive for future use. But now I’d intrigued him to the point that he wanted me to go all out.

So, I did as I was told, even as his cum spilled out of my womb and through the jumpsuit, some down my legs, the abuse still raw. And yet I was still trying.

It was something that made his grin impossibly wider.

I was already quite fast - fast enough to mostly keep up with a slow version of Gojo. However, when I applied my cursed energy to them, it allowed me to speed up closer to both Gojo and Sukuna’s levels. The more I practised, the faster I got and even Sukuna could plainly see my quick learning and adaptability.

What really intrigued him, however, was my attempts at my cursed techniques. He watched as I bobbed and weaved through his attacks, literally, whilst keeping my fist aimed towards him physical. It meant that, whilst none of his hits were landing, I was still able to attack whilst isolating parts of my body.

That required a lot of concentration and control.

So when I tried to apply positive energy, his grin became even wider. He watched as it flared between one hand and the other. However, when I stopped, he frowned.

“You can’t stop in the middle of a battle, brat.” he glared, “You dare waste my time?” I shook my head.

“I-I’m trying to do something but…”

“What is it now?” I frowned.

“If I can just combine them, I can use them simultaneously.” I mumbled, earning a raised brow. I looked down at my hands, brows furrowed, as I attempted to channel both positive energy and cursed energy together, only for it to create more positive energy. I growled.

“No one can use them simultaneously-” Sukuna began, ready to mock.

Until I did. I grinned.

“Emulsification.” I concluded, walking in a semicircle towards him. His gaze didn’t drop from my hands, “The ability to use Immunity as a barrier to mix positive energy AND cursed energy simultaneously, without cursed energy turning directly into positive energy.”

“You used the basic capability of Immunity to separate and yet mix the two.” he laughed, “Nice, very nice.” he commended before motioning for me to rush him, “Now fight me. Show me your worth.”

Unfortunately, Sukuna was anything but kind when it came to his fights. And I wasn’t good enough to avoid all of his hits as he attempted to throw me up into the reminder of the ceiling, sending me up and then down.

When I landed with a flip, I went for him again. Punch, kick, block. I couldn’t land a hit as he effortlessly dodged, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

When he punched me in the face, through the building and into the rain, he dragged me through the floor, making me groan as my head bled. Instantly I was already applying cursed energy preemptively to heal myself, but I didn’t realise one terrifying prospect.

“(L/N)-senpai?!”

My eyes widened when I heard Fushiguro. Shaking my head I got to my feet.

“Get out of here, Megumi-”

“Sorry, but he’s not coming back.” Sukuna greeted, appearing behind Fushiguro as I ran over towards him, getting between them, “Don’t be so frightened. I’m in a great mood right now.

“Let’s chat for a bit.” he concluded, walking past us with his hands in his pocket, casually, “This is what he gets for trying to use me without any kind of pact. Feels like he’s having some trouble switching back.

“Still, though…” Sukuna removed his shirt and hoodie, forcefully, “It’s only a matter of time.

“So… I thought about what I can do right now.”

To our shock and horror, Sukuna stabbed into his chest, causing him to cough up blood, and reached in. We both gasped.

“Wh-what are you…?” I shook my head.

“His heart…” our eyes widened.

“I’m taking this brat hostage. Fucking you was just the start.” Sukuna cackled, making Fushiguro look over at me, horrified as the realisation of what had happened to me, and why I was wearing different clothes, dawned upon him. However, he was distracted by the heart.

“Hostage?!” Fushiguro begged, tense.

“Yeah. I can live without this, but that ain’t true for the brat.” he revealed, throwing it to the side. I gulped.

“Switching out with me means he dies.”

‘Reverse cursed technique will be able to heal him, but I’d have to go through Sukuna; it’s not like he’s gonna let Itadori take control before dying nor will he let me use the technique without a fight…’

“Also…” he added, bringing out the finger the cursed spirit had had lodged in its chest, “For good measure.” he grinned, before slowly eating it, “With that, I’m free as a bird.

“You can be frightened now.” he tensed up, grinning maniacally, “I’ll kill you! For no particular reason.”

“Our positions are reversed now.” Fushiguro muttered before getting into position, “You just don’t get it. He’s…

“Itadori’s coming back.” he concluded, me nodding in agreement, “Even if that means he’ll die. That’s just who he is.”

“You give him too much credit. This guy’s just a little tougher and denser than other humans.” he smirked, wiping away the blood from his mouth, “Just a moment ago, he was scared out of his mind, on the verge of death, and prattling on about his regrets and all that nonsense.

“I know for a fact he doesn’t have the guts to kill himself.”

Fushiguro noted that Itadori’s hand was restored, clearly by one of the reverse cursed techniques. However, he also recognised that Sukuna was incarnated and that, therefore, he should still be affected being without a heart. He concluded he’d try to restore his heart before Itadori returns - and I was thinking similarly.

‘We need to restore his heart.’ I frowned, ‘If I could get get close enough to him to do it, we should be good-’

Fushiguro had no clue if he could do that, knowing how he reacted to the special-grade that Sukuna just killed, shaking. He also didn’t think I looked capable of doing the same. However, he concluded it wasn’t about if we ‘could’ - we had no choice.

Immediately Fushiguro signed for his Shikigami, bringing Nue to the front, making me gasp.

“Megumi-!”

Sukuna stretched as Fushiguro charged, Nue going to the other side of Sukuna, both ready to attack. I cursed, but followed, also on the offensive.

“I’m finally outside, after all.” Sukuna grinned, “Let’s use the open space.”

Fushiguro went for a kick, then two punches as I attacked from the other side, both missing as Sukuna dodged expertly, hands still in his pockets like before. More punches, none landing, ensued before Sukuna jumped to the side.

“Interesting.” he mused, “You use Shikigami, but you’ll still come at me yourself.” he concluded as he ignored me, batting off my attacks like a duck in water.

Nue dived, only for Sukuna to dodge again. Frustrated, Fushiguro went for another punch, then a kick as I tried to uppercut him before going for his gut, both trying to take advantage of Nue’s distraction, only for him to continue dodging with his hands still in his pockets.

Fushiguro and I continued to punch and kick with all our might. And Sukuna watched in amusement, chanting, “More.” He then, in a change of pace, grabbed Fushiguro’s fist and pulled him towards himself before swinging him, “More!” he concluded, pulling him so they were face to face, “Put more curse behind it,” he practically purred before backhanding Fushiguro, “when you strike me!”

“Megumi!” I yelled.

“Orochi!” Fushiguro yelled, signing for him. Unperturbed, Sukuna let the Shikigami bite him, pulling him into the sky, “Gang up on him!”

“Megumi, withdraw!” I yelled, seeing his cursed energy flaring even as Nue came in with sparks flying.

Unfortunately, I was too late as Sukuna split Orochi from the inside out and suddenly he was on the ground, fist grappling the back of Fushiguro’s blazer. I gulped, running towards them, unprepared for Sukuna’s next move.

“Hey, what did I just say?” he uttered before throwing Fushiguro through the air.

“Megumi!” I cried before cursing. Quickly I used Nullification to fly after them, going to kick Sukuna before he could reach Fushiguro, only for him to grab my foot, spin me in the air and throw me into Fushiguro.

“Let’s use the open space!” Before leaping after us and kicking us both into the buildings, forcing us both across two buildings.

That wasn’t enough, of course. He then appeared to Fushiguro’s left and kicked him into another building, forcing him through it and out the other side. Before throwing me in the same direction. I just about had time to react, activating Nullification on the descent. My legs were broken and I was suffering many serious injuries. So as I healed myself I looked for Fushiguro, cursing myself for not being capable of healing others.

Nue, on it, swooped in, grappling Fushiguro mid-air as Fushiguro lamented in his mind about how powerful Sukuna is, only for him to jump up, ready to strike them down.

“Nice technique there.” he noted, battering them down and into a building, to which they collapsed through until hitting the bottom.

“Megumi!” I yelled, appearing beside him. Fushiguro, on the other hand, concluded it was best to withdraw Nue before he’s destroyed like Orochi, reminding him of how White Dog was also destroyed.

“I get it now.” Sukuna noted, hands on his hips, “So your Shikigami are created from shadows.

“So what?”

“Hmm…” Sukuna mused, hand to chin, “I don’t get it, though. Why did you run back then?” he chuckled, releasing his chin and motioning his hand outwards, “What a waste of talent.” that caught Fushiguro’s attention, “Whatever.

“Either way, that won’t be enough to fix this.” he directed at the gaping hole in his chest. I deflated as Fushiguro smirked, both realising our plan was figured out, “You’re risking your life over stupid shit. This brat isn’t even worth that much.” Fushiguro hobbled to stand, barely stable as I supported him, only for him to push me behind him as I was close to passing out.

However, he began to get into position, cursed energy enveloping his body, all as he thought of his sister and her curse as well as his deadbeat father. Then it moved onto his desires of wanting more good people to enjoy fairness with no thanks to karma.

“Nice!” Sukuna grinned, “That’s it.

“So this is when you start burning through your life! Now I see.” he uttered, walking forward, “Well, in that case… Show me, Fushiguro Megumi!” he cried.

It was in that moment everything clicked for me. I could digest cursed energy, break it down and read it. It was enough that I could understand Sukuna’s cursed technique and possibly utilise it myself. Everything made sense.

So I watched as Fushiguro prepared his attack and I swallowed, hard, my head hurting.

“Sacred treasure swing and ring, ring, Eight Grip-!”

Suddenly all of his cursed energy left him. He stood there in the rain, still in stance. I was prepared to fight as I was nearly fully healed, but he relaxed slightly, confusing me as I slumped on the ground, spent.

“Just so you know, I… don’t have any logical reason for saving you back then.” Fushiguro admitted, “Even if it was dangerous, I couldn’t bear to see a good person like you die.

“I did have my reservations, but ultimately, it was for selfish, emotional reasons.

“That’s fine, though.” he added, “I’m not a hero.” he released his form and relaxed as Itadori began to take back control, “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer.

“So I’ve never once regretted saving you.”

“Yuji…” I began to cry, shaking my head, unable to use positive energy any longer.

“I see.” Itadori grinned, rubbing the back of his head, “You really are smart, Fushiguro. You’ve put more thought into this than I have.” he admitted before concluding, “I think your conviction’s a proper one, but I don’t think mine is wrong, either.”

More blood spilled from his wound as blood stilled in his body. There wasn’t long left and he knew it. I was close to blacking out.

“Oh, sorry, I’m almost done for.” he reminded, “Guess I won’t have to worry about you both, Kugisaki, or Gojo-sensei.” he uttered before beginning to fall, done for, “Live a long life.”

Fushiguro’s lip wobbled as he held in tears. I, on the other hand, openly bawled my eyes out.

“Yuji…” I cried, bringing my hands to my face as I crouched down beside him, shaking my head. To my surprise, I felt Fushiguro place a hand gently on my head, making me look up.

He gave a weak smile. It held sadness and empathy.

I returned it before passing out.

#fanfic #fanfiction #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu ryomen #yuji itadori #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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hoshigray · 10 months

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Anon said: I hope it's okay.. wondering if you could write something for ushijima where he's married with kids and the mc is starting to feel insecure about her body and ushijima shows to her how much he still gets turned on by her (now more than ever too). Also I'm really happy I came across your blog! Absolutely love your writing! 🤗💕✨️

Omg another Ushi request!! Stop this is so cute, has me grinnin' and shit!! Tysm for the kind words, noonie, happy to have you on my blog as well~ ;w; ♡ (also, I'm so so so SO sorry for deleting your ask before, plz forgive me bc the draft wasn't finished AT ALL, lmao)

Cw: Ushijima x fem! reader - soft and then smutty, so minors DNI - reader is chubby + has stretch marks cuz I said so - kisses on body (f! receiving) - cunnilingus/oral (f! receiving) - implied breeding kink - praise - biting (Ushi nibbles on your tummy, cheeks, and nipples) - clitoral play (swiping and sucking) - ends with implied insertion - slight overstimulation - reader feeling self-conscious about their body but Ushi coming in for the rescue - you and Ushi have two-year-old twin sons!! Wc: 2.8k

There's nothing you would want to change about your life.

You already thought you hit the jackpot when you stumbled upon and started dating THE Wakatoshi Ushijima, a man you never — in your WILDEST dreams imaginable — could see yourself with. And the fact that he proposed and took you as his spouse is shocking enough. But now, as you see him on the couch with two small children asleep on his lap as the man watches the television, it's hard to conceal the smile that sneaks past your comprehension, and you silently walk upstairs to your shared bedroom.

It's been three years since you and Ushijima tied the knot, and you expectant with two boys immediately after. Since then, your life has gotten brighter and brighter by the day. Not only has Ushijima been a great and supportive unit as he has been since he first met you, but watching your sons grow into such beautiful bundles of joy never fails to make you beam with glee. And it's so cute because they're literal carbon copies of their father! Aside from being much more expressive and bubbly than their silent parent, he says they get from you.

For the past three years, every day in the Ushijima household has been grateful. Having a loving husband and two wonderful children is evidence of such. Because of this happiness you bestow and witness, there's absolutely nothing in this life that you'd want to change or replace…

...But that's a lie because there is one thing you'd wish to change. And it bothers you as you stare into the bedroom mirror.

Turning your figure to the left and right in your underwear, you're the only one here who can point out the critiques of your body that you've noticed since pregnancy. Your brows crease as you bore holes at the plumpness of your abdomen that wasn't this curvy before, the detailed streaks of your stretch marks indicating the changes your body's undergone through the years. And your appearance comes off plumper than you've remembered prior; memories of your "perfect" figure from your wedding night flood your mind.

The mirror doesn't display a "you" that you recognize. It's a "you" that has long replaced your old self — the old self who was distinct compared to now, the old self that would model cute outfits and pose with their friends, the old self that grabbed the attention of a well-renowned volleyball player and would soon bear his children.

That old self is long gone, fueling your dismay about who you're looking at as your reflection. This is you, but this isn't your body, is it? It can't be. A body like this shouldn't be able to experience the happiness you're experiencing...should it? The more you stare at your reflection, the blurrier your head is clouded with your thoughts, and an uncomfortable bob strangles your throat.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

You jump at the sudden sound, turning to face the ajar bedroom door. Your husband, Ushijima, entering halfway. "Can I come in?"

"Uhhh, yeah, come in!" You stutter as you grab an oversized shirt (Ushijima's) to cover up. It's funny: being together all these years and you still wish to be modest around your partner. He closes the door behind him once you sit on your side of the bed. "Put the boys to bed."

"Mhmm." He hums in response, walking to the mirror you were using, touching up on his hair before taking off his shirt. He stretches in front of the glass, and you observe him as he does so. His reflection depicts the gorgeous lean physique as his breathtaking back muscles captivate you. Even when he goes into the closet to fetch a more comfortable tee to sleep in, your eyes never leave him.

Strong. Stoic. Incredibly athletic. And a cadence that engulfs anyone in his path. There are many ways people in your surroundings have depicted your husband. And with a front-row seat, you understand what they mean. Ushijima is a rather unusual breed of man, both mind and body; it's a fact you've known before you two dated. And it's a fact that grasps your attraction to him constantly. All these years, and he's still the handsome man you fell in love with.

Makes you wonder if he thinks the same for you. Even with your current body...

"Y/n." A voice snaps you back to the present, turning to the other side of the bed to see Ushijima look directly at you. You blink with a shiver; he must've been calling for you while deep in your thoughts. "You okay?"

You cough before answering. "Ahem, yeah, yeah! Sorry, I'm fine."

The man trenches his brows. "No, you're not." He cuts you off before you can say an excuse. "This is the third time this week you've been thinking up a storm to yourself. Not to mention you've been doing it for the past few months."

"Am...Was I that obvious?"

"That, and I saw you looking at yourself earlier." It's bad enough his blunt answers shoot arrows to your heart, but to know he did see you eyeing yourself at the mirror? Your mind goes rampant thinking what he'll say next. "So, what's wrong?"

You could try to dismiss the topic again and just retire for the night, but you know Ushijima well enough to know you can trust him with what you're thinking. You sigh heavily, turning to your fingers that fidget amognst themselves. "Toshi...Do you...like my body?"

One second goes by. Three seconds. The silence gnaws you, you chew on your lip to distract yourself until the man answers. "...What do you mean?"

"Like...before I had the boys, I felt real...confident? With myself?" Your fingers now toy with the comforter covering your lower body, the awkward atmosphere eating you alive. "I'm not saying I was the most gorgeous person alive or anything, but I liked how my body looked. And now, after being pregnant and everything, I just feel like.....I don't know. Forget about it; good night!" You swiftly turned off the lamp on your bedside and patted your pillow. But before you can situate yourself to sleep, a hand comes to your cheek, prompting you to look at your spouse again.

"Y/n." The way he says your name is so calm and comforting. You lean to his touch. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

You nod, a thumb stroking the soft flesh of your cheek. "Yeah, it's just me with my stupid thoughts bullying me, really..."

Ushijima hums, his free hand freeing your lower half from the warm comforter, exposing your legs to the air-conditioned space. "You shouldn't let those thoughts take the best out of you. You're an adult; it's only natural that your body changes as you grow. And as a mother, it's not guaranteed you'll look like your old self." Once again, the man obliviously scolds you with his curt response. Although, you know he's not wrong, nodding to his words.

"I know, I know. It's just..." Another sigh leaves your fatigued lips. "Every time I look at myself, I just don't know...how can such an amazing and wonderful guy like you still want to be with me looking...different. I get it: it's just my head being mean. But still..." And you leave it at that, withdrawing your face from his warm palm.

Ushijima, though, kept his eyes on your solemn expression. He tries again, bringing his hand up to your chin to look at him. "To answer your question: yes, I do like your body. The reason why is that it's your body. I keep mine in the same condition — if not better — simply because I have a job that requires me to do so. But that's just for me, not you. I didn't date you just because of your body alone. I sure didn't propose to you for it either. I married you — all of you. I love everything about you, and that love hasn't changed since I said my vows." The hand on your chin returns to cupping your cheek. "And it won't change just because of some natural changes to your body. Otherwise, I'd be a terrible husband and father for thinking so."

"Toshi..." Just when you thought your love for this man couldn't get any significant, he always finds a way to bring it up to substantial levels. Your heart swoons to his words, making you fall unquestionably in love with him again. Now you bring a hand to his cheek, "You're such a wonderful man, you know that? So lucky to have you as my husband." He averts his gaze from yours, a sign you know is his way of accepting praise.

"I'll say this, though," the tall man places his other hand to seize your small one on his cheek, olive eyes boring into yours: a sign of honesty. "Ever since you had the twins, I think you've become more beautiful than before."

His face draws in close, and your breath hitches. "Toshi—"

"I mean it. You're so beautiful..." His lips rest on your plump ones, and you're gently pushed to your back with your head on the pillows. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his kisses, small gasps when he leaves your lips to set sweet smooches on your cheek and neck. "So beautiful for me....."

The feeling of his lips on you has you under his spell, and you mean when a hand snakes under your shirt. Ushijima lifts the material to expose your body to him; humility still runs over you as you use your hands to cover yourself. But the man before you doesn't let that happen, moving your hands off your body and onto his shoulders. "Don't do that. Let me see it all." His mouth goes back to your neck, sucking on your skin that'll surely leave marks for you to see in the morning.

He then ventured down, kissing and sucking on every piece of insecurity that caged you. Every stretch mark, from your shoulders to your tummy, kissed with love and gratitude. Your plush thighs were rubbed by his hands before his mouth came down, giving the fat above your panties a teasing bite, causing your legs to jerk. Ushijima removes your underwear, discards the lacy material to the cold wooden floor, and spreads your legs to have your bare genitalia out for him to see.

Your face is now hot from the exposition. "Toshi..." you say his name in a whisper, not wanting to get loud as your bedroom is not too far from your sons'. "Please, you don't have to—Ooohhh..." You're cut off when you feel his tongue lap on one of your nipples, licking on the bud while using his hand to toy with the other breast.

"No, I do have to." He says in between licks to your nipple before taking it wholly into his mouth; your whimpers fail to cooperate on wanting to be stifled by your lips. The heat between your legs starts to flourish, having you grind your thighs together to ease the throbbing sensation. And Ushihima notices, releasing your mound from his hand and slithering it between your soft thighs, protruding his fingers between the folds of your vagina. A sharp cry comes out of you at the sudden contact of his forefinger brushing your clit.

"Ahhhh! Toshi, right there, right—Mmmmm..."

"Not yet, Y/n," your husband coos to your ears, his voice so hot to hear. "Need to warm you up first..." He lays kisses on your neck while pushing his finger into you. You bring a hand to cover the shriek from exiting when his digit enters your chasm, your inner walls adjusting to the size. And when he inserts his middle fingers, you find purchase on the tee he's wearing.

"Oooh, hooohh...Jesus Christ, Toshi, your fingers," you whine to him. He brings his face up to glance at yours. "Feels so good, so—Ahaaannn!!"

"Shhhh, keep feeling good for me." He coaxes you with a kiss on your forehead, the pace of his fingers quickens, and the squelching noises coming from your cunt burn your ears. Your hips buck whenever his digits scrape the velvety walls, and your mind slowly descends into a lustful haze. You want him so bad — want him right now.

And Ushijima takes this time to examine your body while he works on your leaky slit. Watching your figure quiver to his touch, your mouth agape for cute moans to fill the space, and your eyes screwed to an expression of pleasure. Here is where he treasures you more than ever: having you like this with him and only him. It turns him on. It's a raunchy thought, but it's true.

Beauty stirs many images in Ushijima's mind. But nothing triumphs over the true definition of beauty when it's about you. You are the most beautiful in his eyes, both body and soul. Every time he looks at you, the memory of your first smile to him flashes before him, a moment he cherishes till his last breath and is the moment that cemented his wish to have you by his side. And now married with two bouncing boys, there has not been one instance where his light for you diminishes. If anything, it grows brighter and brighter.

However, when it comes to his attention that you don't see yourself in the same light as he does, it's only befitting for a husband to fix that. Because, in his eyes, even through all the changes throughout the years, your body still drives him insane. Especially now, when he's the reason that transformed you with his youths. And seeing you writhe on the bed with his fingers in your vulva, that switch that once flipped before has twitched something inside him...

"Ahhhn!! Nnnmm!! Toshi, Oh God..." The tall man snaps to your disheveled look, your eyes watery and lips puffy from frequent chews. "Haaah!! It's coming, I'm gonna—Ohoooo!!"

"Go ahead. Cum on me, Y/n." He kisses and nibbles your cheeks before putting his mouth on your nipple once more, sucking and lightly biting the nub while pushing his fingers in and out of your cunt at a sporadic rhythm. He places his thumb on your clitoris, swiping and grinding on the tender button. And that was the final piece for your orgasm to overtake you, the walls of your slit clamping around his digits while your body quivers with the crawl of your spine.

Your cries fill the bedroom, riding out your climax until the last tremble. Toes curl as your pussy flutters on him, and they relax when your body is sheathed with a soothing silence that calms you down from the aftershocks. Pants exit swollen lips, too distracted in your bliss to catch a glimpse of Ushijima moving downward to your southern lips, his tongue running on your slick-coated folds.

A forced wail comes out at the motion of his mouth on your chasm. "T-Toshi, stop! I'm too sensit—Iiieeee!!" Your hollers return with an ecstatic vigor as your husband drinks your essence.

"Y/n," his voice was loud enough to draw your awareness to him, licking your fluids from your inner thighs. "You drive me crazy, you know. Your body, it turns me on so much."

"Mmmm, hmmmm, r-really?" Even though Ushijima is sucking on your most delicate areas, you're able to carry on with the conversation.

"Really. Actually, I've been turned on throughout the entire pregnancy. Something about making you big and swole with a baby — the thought about it makes me go wild." He finally removes himself from your cunt, licking remnants of your fluids from his lips. He then takes off his tee, his well-built physique for your eyes to ogle.

Hooded olive eyes stare at you as he undoes the drawstring of his sweatpants, bringing them down to reveal his erection. The image of his cock springing has your sweat run to deep ice cold. You know where this is going, and you can't tell if the pulses of your chasm are out of fear or mutual excitement. "Toshi—"

"Hey, Y/n, I've been thinking" he brings you close to him, your legs spread for him. He then aligns his dick to your wet cunt, using your slick to lubricate the tip of his length before pushing it between your folds. You have to bring a hand up to conceal the mewls. "Maybe we should have another baby. Let's try a girl this time." His mind clouded with aroused thoughts; you pregnant with his child again, all big and round and swole with his child. The image sends shivers up his since. He gets so fucking turned on by it. But as long as it's you, it's all good. Even now, when the tip is finally inserted with a muffled cry from your covered lips, Ushijima doesn't want to turn back.

"Want them to be cute and beautiful like you..."

976 notes · View notes

pugh-bug · 22 days

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Flashing Lights Part 2

Part 1

This is part 2 of 2 but I might be starting an Art x reader slow burn friends to lovers series soon. Challengers (specifically Art) is all I wanna write for atm so expect more fics! I hope you enjoy this one, please leave me feedback it always means so much to hear any.

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Art’s gaze drifted to your joined hands and felt his confidence increase as he noticed the need in your eyes. Without saying a word, he brushed your hair behind your ear to gain access to your neck. You caught him inhaling your scent for a moment before the touch of his lips to your pulse halted anymore thoughts. You couldn’t help but hum appreciatively at his touch. Finally thee Art Donaldson was touching you and your heart beat was all the louder for it.

When his teeth reached your earlobe you closed your eyes, fully succumbing to the pleasure Art was giving you. His hair, so close to your nose, smelt faintly of strawberries and cigarettes. You didn’t mind in the slightest, in fact, as his lips edged closer to yours you caught yourself thinking: if this man wants to blow smoke into my mouth I’ll thank him.

‘Can I kiss you?’

You opened your eyes to see Art’s nose less than an inch from yours. He almost looked desperate for a moment, as the question hung in the air demanding a response. No man had ever asked you that before, except your first kiss a long time ago. It was such an innocent question from such a not innocent man. Your stomach fluttered as you made eye contact with Art’s hopeful face.

‘Please.’

Art barely gave you a moment to finish the last syllable, his soft lips were on yours in a second and his fingers to your jaw followed. He cradled your face in his hands as yours reached his soft curls, feeling the urge to pull.

The remaining pain in your foot became more and more distant as Art moved his body closer to yours. Whilst he was kissing you with forceful lust, his hands were delicately tracing your body. You melted into his touch, begging him in your head not to stop. Do not stop. Please don’t stop. He didn’t. His left hand couldn’t settle, whilst his right remained on your waist the left explored you as if looking for something. For a moment you wondered if he was waiting for consent so you broke the kiss to whisper ‘Art, you can touch me anywhere.’

His face, still close to your own, broke into a smirk as his hand reached under your dress. He teased you for a moment, his fingers just edging on slipping under your pants but not quite. You tried to hide the desperate need building in you but as Art’s eyes shone with glee you knew he was well aware of his hold on you.

‘Here?’

He slid his first finger inside your heat, the wetness making it easy for the both of you. Instinctively you moved your hips, not thinking straight. As his fingers explored you, Art kissed up your neck and bit down slowly. You sighed, it sounded heavenly to Art’s ears. He felt his dick straining in his pants and wondered how patient he could be if you kept making such pretty noises.

Once he’d inserted a second finger you began to rock your hips into his hand, begging him to give you more but too shy to say so. It didn’t take you long to lose your balance, causing Art to wrap his free arm reassuringly around your waist.

‘You can relax, I’ve got you.’

He was right. You could relax. You could arch your back into his touch without fear of falling backwards. It wouldn’t be the embarrassment that would bother you, just the loss of his skilful fingers inside where you needed him most. It had been so long since someone had touched you like this, you weren’t sure you could handle him stopping. Not for any reason.

When he finally added a third finger, your moan was pornographic. Art was almost surprised if not slightly impressed with himself for making such a girl feel this way. He watched you close your eyes, staring at the line of your neck and the way your hair fell as his fingers continued their torment. The man fell into a sort of trance, as if he could feel everything you were feeling just as intensely. Distracted, horny and in awe Art realised he wanted nothing more than to rip off your clothes and make you cum around him.

Just as you began to ride his fingers properly, Art removed his hand. You let out a slight groan at the sudden loss, opening your eyes to show your disapproval but Art’s focus was elsewhere. His hands were making work of removing your dress and your bra as quickly as possible. Wanting to help him, you unfastened your bra letting it fall off the edge of the bed.

Within seconds you were underneath Art and the only things between you were his trousers and your panties. Normally to be the only one so exposed would have had your brain swarming with negative thoughts but Art’s calloused yet gentle hands trace your curves was too good of a distraction.

Your body moved in tune with his hands movements and although you could have let him feel every inch of you for hours he was wearing far too many clothes. You needed him inside you, you needed to see all of him. Feel all of him.

‘Art…’

You didn’t need to ask, just your hands clawing at his shirt and fiddling with his belt was enough of a message. Squeezing your thighs together, still missing Art’s fingers, you helped him out of his pants. It pained Art to take his shirt off and miss looking at your eager face for even half a second. He was sure, as he watched you take his length in your hand, that he’d never been so hard for someone before.

You didn’t need to pump him for long before your hand felt the wetness of his pre cum reach your fingers. Just watching him had your thighs wet with your slick - the way his long eyelashes fluttered as he arched into your touch. The slight whimper he let out when you gently rubbed your thumb over his tip. Fuck. You’d never felt so turned on by pleasuring a man before in your life. You wanted to make him cum until he saw stars and forgot what even tennis was.

Art, becoming lost in bliss from your touch, still managed to flutter his eyes open and grab your hand.

“Wait…’

He warned quietly, watching you remove your hand from his desperate cock. There was an obvious, growing lust in his gaze. No one had ever looked at you with such intense need before, it was enough to instil a throbbing between your thighs.

Lying on top of you, Art slowly teased your folds with the head of his cock but he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Jesus…”

In perfect unison the two of you moaned at the feeling of his deliciously slow slide inside you. He bottomed out, giving you the moment to adjust that you needed and kissed up your chest to distract himself from the urge to fuck you as hard as he could.

“Art…please.”

He was too desperate to even grin at your begging and far too ready to tease either of you. So, more than happy to oblige, Art began fucking you as slowly as he could force himself to. It didn’t take long for either of you to moan into each others moans in-between sloppy kisses as he picked up the pace.

The sound of your wetness engulfing his length again and again and his whiney, breathy moans was turning you almost feral.

“You feel so fucking good…”

Art pulled your chest close to his and you sat up. In the new position he could thrust up into you while your tits bounced near his face. Just the sight of you, mouth open with messy makeup made Art groan. With one arm wrapped tightly around your waist guiding your body up and down, Art used his free hand to touch your lips. You tasted yourself on his fingers and hummed, not tearing your eyes away from his no matter how much they threatened to close.

“Y/N…”

You could barely respond as his relentless hips drove up into your heat. Once his hand slipped between the two of you to massage your clit any remaining composure you had was lost.

‘Does that feel good?’

You could barely answer. Instead of saying you nodded your head over and over.

‘Uhh humm!’

He grinned, loving nothing more than his actions rendering you non verbal. Suddenly, he increased the pace - you didn’t think he’d be able to but all those workouts were being put to good use. Your head was spinning, your orgasm beginning to grow closer. Art pulled your face closer to his with a strong hand at the back of your neck.

‘You gonna cum for me?’

His eyes were gleaming, his own orgasm on the horizon. You were so warm and tight around him, he never wanted the night to end.

‘Uh huhhmmm!’

You began to squirm in his arms, feeling the familiar tightness in your stomach and light headedness increase. Art’s movements began to grow suddenly more feverish, less rhythmic as he chased his own orgasm whilst desperate to bring you to yours.

Grabbing his shoulders for balance, your orgasm hit you hard and fast.

“Art!”

Your limbs tightened as you thrashed for a moment in Art’s warm embrace. Just as your eyes rolled into the back of your head - the pleasure overwhelming and wonderful all at once - Art reached his. His warm cum flooded your insides as he swore, knowing he’d never feel as good as he did right now.

Limp in his arms, you leant your head on Art’s shoulder unbothered by the sweat in your hair. Both of you could barely breathe for a few moments so you listened to the sounds of each others racing heart rates slow. You were the first to break the silence.

‘Fucking hell…’

Art chuckled, sliding out of you so you could more easily get off. His breathing hadn’t yet calmed down as he gently kissed your cheek, forehead and finally lips. It was much gentler than his previous kisses and your heart fluttered. It’s just a one off, you reminded yourself sadly.

‘I’m gonna go clean myself up okay?’

Art simply nodded in your direction as you hurried to the bathroom. When you returned he was lay on your bed, showing no signs of leaving.

‘Wanna stay the night?’ You asked, hopefully.

The two of you were asleep within the hour, not even your foot could disturb your dreams.

#art donaldson fan fic #challengers art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art Donaldson #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #Mike faist #challengers smut

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 | aemond targaryen x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | these were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching. when his reputation was at stake. but as eyes from around the room fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is. separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals. {aka, an arranged marriage with aemond that’s not as loveless as it seems, once he’s forced to admit how he really feels…}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 9.4k (WHOOPS)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (virginity loss with some pain due to aemond being… very gifted, breeding kink ft. breeding press, emotional sex, the slightest dubcon if you squint but trust me it's wanted), arranged marriage, angst, the love isn’t unrequited they’re just idiots, innocent reader, slight infidelity (reader has essentially an emotional affair with a stark!oc), touch starved reader and also touch starved aemond but at the same time cocky aemond lol, reader is insanely whipped for aemond (aka self-insert lmao jk but really tho), slight housewife kink? but really just very old school/traditional views of marriage, reader is implied to be some kind of royal but no mentions of her house or origins or appearance

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them. You loved that he had to treat you like a wife for the evening— putting his hand on your shoulder or waist, smiling at you, talking about you to other guests…

Maybe that was the same reason that he hated them. You really couldn't tell; but on nights like this, you just basked in the fantasy, in the joy of putting on this show for the others so they wouldn't know how loveless and empty your marriage really was.

The banquet was, all things considered, rather uneventful. You didn't make much conversation, opting to stay firmly planted at your husband's side until he invited you to dance. He disliked dancing, too, but he was decent at it; you couldn't stop smiling when he took your hand so gently, guiding you to the centre of the room. His gracefulness and stoic nature reminded you of how you thought of him when you met him for the first time.

You remembered returning home after your first visit, knowing the courtship would be brief for a political marriage and that your next visit would probably be permanent. You spent the night telling everything to your friends, giddy with romantic glee. What's he like? they asked. They say the one-eyed prince is strange— but maybe they all are…

You clutched your hands to your chest as you answered: he's shy, you said, and reserved— mysterious! But I know he has a kind heart, if only he'll let me near to it. He took my hand and kissed it… just the way he looked at me as he did made my heart jump! He's handsome, I think, if in a strange way— he doesn't look anything like the men here. But I like that…

And they all swooned, going on about how lucky you were, fantasising with you about how romantic it would be when he showed you his true nature and fawned over you as his new wife.

For a dragon, for a man made in fire, he was so cold— frozen solid, right down to his heart.

These were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching. When his reputation was at stake. But as eyes fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is. Separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals (when you ate together at all, which became rarer over time).

Nearly eight months into marriage, with no pregnancy, you knew there were rumours already about why no children were on the way. The kindest of them spoke that Aemond didn't desire children and had you on a strict regimen of preventative elixirs and teas; the harshest alleged that you couldn't satisfy him, couldn't interest him, or couldn't bear for him at all.

Worst of all, you weren't sure which of those were true yourself. He never told you if he wanted children, or if he had a lover already, or if he was like his brother— spending night after night in whorehouses.

You didn't know him at all, really, and it made your eyes sting at the dance came to an end. He let go of your hand to clap for the end of the song like the other dancers, and you knew it could be weeks before he touched you again. You bowed your head and hoped he wouldn't see your eyes getting watery.

When you looked up again, Aemond's attention was elsewhere as a Lord visiting from far away approached him to make conversation; but another set of eyes were upon you, those of the Lord Stark seated across the hall. His stare was dark, but warm, and you glanced away quickly.

"Excuse me," you offered quietly to your husband and his conversation partner, who nodded at you to dismiss you before you left. Making your way to the doors, you saw Stark standing from his chair in the corner of your eye as you passed.

Leaving the party, you walked far enough that you suspected no one else would come by— no one else that wasn't looking for you, that is. And only one man would come looking for you…

He did, as you suspected; you waited under a sconce until you heard footsteps behind you. You turned to face him, and part of you imagined, still, that it would be your husband standing there. Why did you leave, dear wife? Wouldn't you like to dance with me again?

He probably didn't even know you were gone. Instead, you stared at the man standing before you. "Lord Stark," you greeted with a polite curtsy.

"You may desist the pleasantries," he smirked, full lips surrounded by dark brown stubble on his face, approaching you with a gentle touch to your arm. "We are alone, my lady."

Sighing, you watched his fingers pet the sleeve of your dress. What would it be like if Aemond touched your arm, with his delicate touch and slender hands? "That we are," you agreed softly.

"I've waited quite some time to see you again," Philip Stark said thoughtfully, and you smiled up at him shyly, "and I'm afraid you are even more beautiful than I remembered."

"And you are even more flirtatious than I remembered," you returned, making him laugh lightly.

"Quick-witted as always, my lady," he praised, "but it is not flattery— you know I truly adore you, don't you? These nights are all I have to look forward to… though it does wound me to see you with him. Especially now that I know how cruel he really is."

Yes, when you first encountered Philip in one of these empty hallways, you confessed more of the truth to him than you'd ever told anyone. As embarrassing as it was, he never judged or shamed you; in fact, he apparently fell madly in love with you after that one conversation. And now here he was, jealous that Aemond married you first, making you feel terrible for the way you entertained the interest of another man.

"I wanted to ask you for a dance," Philip admitted. "Would you have accepted?"

"Of course," you beamed.

"Then I'll ask now," he decided, extending his hand to you as your eyes widened.

"But there's no music!" you protested.

"Can’t you hear it?” he grinned, making you knit your brows and try to listen more carefully. With the doors to the main hall shut, you couldn’t hear anything. “That’s what it’s like to be in love— you hear music when others don’t.”

As sweet as it was for Philip to imply he was in love with you, you had to laugh. “I think that’s what it’s like to be insane!” you replied.

“The two are actually quite similar,” he winked as you took your hand and pulled you closer, squaring up to dance with you.

For a few moments, it was just that— dancing in the hallway with Philip to silent music. It was fun, romantic even, and you laughed like you hadn’t in weeks. And though you couldn’t quite call it a surprise, with the way he was looking at you, you felt a strange sense of disappointment when he kissed you.

Disappointment because all you could think about as he kissed you was how different it felt from what you thought kissing Aemond would be like.

You'd put a lot of thought into it, actually, since you first met him. Aemond’s lips seemed soft, and the few times you'd seen the tip of his tongue slip out to wet them as he was immersed in thought, you thought of him tasting your lips. His touch was delicate and lithe, those thin fingers might tilt your head back so you would look up at him, or lightly tickle the small of your back. He would be so careful with you, tender and patient as he was in all things, he would savour every moment that your body was pressed to his…

Philip was exactly the opposite in every way. His stubble scratched against your face, reminding you what you were doing and who you were doing it with. His kiss was aggressive and hungry, his tongue prying into your mouth as he hummed in delight and pulled you closer by your hips.

It took all your strength, physical and metaphysical, to push him away. "I can't… my husband—" you began.

"You told me yourself that he ignores you," he sighed, tightening his grip on you to keep you close. "Didn't you say that you thought he was having an affair of his own?"

"W-well, I'm not sure— I just imagine he must be, since he's never… since we never…"

He growled slightly, leaning in to kiss your neck as you shivered. "I still can't believe it," he mumbled. "That the prince has a beautiful wife all to himself and never once bed you. What a waste that is— you deserve to be pleasured, my love…"

You wanted so much to give into it, to let him take you now and finally know what you'd been waiting so long for. You wanted it more than anything— to be loved, desired, cherished. But you still gasped and pushed him away again when he started to grab at your dress. "I saved my purity for my husband," you reminded him with a frown.

"And you still have it!" he snapped. "Isn't it time to give it to someone who wants it?"

You'd told him yourself that your husband didn't care for you, and yet it stung horribly to hear Lord Stark say it so plainly. You dropped your head and bit your shaking lip, sniffling as he awkwardly tried to recant what he'd said.

"I-I've offended you— my apologies— but it is him that should feel guilty, not you," Philip insisted. "He's mad to treat you in such a way… he should desire you, I can't imagine why he doesn't. But he doesn't, that much we can both be certain of. And I do— more than anything, I desire you. I meant all that I said in my letter— and more. I have dreamt of you every night since we first met, since you let me kiss your hand…"

The declaration of love was beautiful, and tender, but it was soured— for it all came from the wrong man. It would be easier to run away with the Lord Stark and be his wife instead, let him give you all the things he promised. But it was not duty that kept you bound to Aemond… it was devotion; real, pure devotion.

You interrupted the Lord's imploring speech by resting your hand tenderly on his cheek. He sighed, shutting his eyes and savouring your touch. "My lady," he whispered reverently.

"I am truly sorry, my Lord," you breathed. "You are handsome, and gentle— and any lady should be so lucky to have your heart, for it is truly kind and just. But—"

"But you can only love him," Stark finished with a sneer, jerking away from you dejectedly.

"I wish I didn't," you admitted with a whimper as you started to cry. "I wish I was the sort of woman who could ignore my marriage and abandon my husband and just love you, but—"

"Say no more," he interrupted firmly. "I see now that you never felt for me as you said you did. You only liked that I gave you the attention your husband does not."

Well, that was sort of true, but it still hurt.

"No wonder he hates you— he knows how wicked you are!"

You reached out for the man but he had already turned to leave you; you wanted to plead for just one more embrace from him, so it would be longer before you forgot how it felt to be held. But you, apparently, had a single shred of dignity left… or maybe it was just that you were crying too hard to speak.

Crumpling to the floor, you leaned against the stone wall, hearing the sounds of the party grow louder for a moment as the doors to the banquet hall opened again. The sounds of merriment and joy felt distant, not just because they were literally far away— you had so few joys left already, and one of them had just tossed you aside with impatience and disgust.

When the evening concluded and you were alone in your bed across the castle, you dreamt that Aemond found one of Philip's letters to you; that he read it and confronted you, admitting he was livid to imagine another man stealing you away. In your dream, Aemond's anger revealed his true lust for you, and he asserted his claim over his wife by violently taking you right there in your bed, all the while swearing to never even let anyone else look at you again.

It may have sounded like a nightmare to anyone else, but you would accept any interest from Aemond by now— you wouldn't struggle or resist him, too good of a wife to ever deny your husband. But that was hardly something you had to worry about: you'd never have to deny him, because he'd never want you. Realising this for the hundredth time hurt just as much as the first; you wept into your pillow for the rest of the night.

"What is it that you hate so much about me?" you asked, voice wavering even though you'd imagined being so tough when you finally confronted him.

You hadn't woken up that day planning to ask him that. You'd woken up that day melancholy as you knew it was your eight month wedding anniversary— and you knew that Aemond didn't care. He didn't join you for breakfast, and you thought about taking your meal to the terrace to look out at the garden while you ate, but then you thought you'd better just wait for him at the table in case he came late and gave you a kiss on the head as he passed by to his seat.

Of course, he did not. You didn't see him before lunch, either— or at lunch! That was when your heartbreak shifted into anger. If he wanted to be aloof, fine. If he wanted to be in a purely political marriage without even consummating it, that was his right. And if he didn't think children were necessary, being the second son and therefore not needing an heir, even though you longed to be less alone and have someone to care for here in this draughty old castle— you could live with all that.

But if he couldn't even think to say hello to his wife, either ignorant or uncaring that the twentieth of every month was another month gone by since the wedding, then he was worse than you realised. Up until now he’d avoided you, sure, but he wasn’t… mean, except for avoiding you, which was mean in itself. It made you think of what Philip said a few weeks ago— no wonder he hates you.

So, that was what compelled you to find Aemond in his chambers, swinging the doors open and blurting out your question.

He sighed, seeming annoyed, as he shut his book and looked at you. Even after seeing firsthand how little he cares about you, part of you imagined he'd be offended when you asked that. Hate you? Darling, of course not! You're my wife, aren't you?

But no, he only contemplated you with an unsurprised frustration as you stood there, shaking hands clenched into fists. You spoke again when he still said nothing. "I'd just like you to tell me, Aemond. Tell me why you despise me so much."

He smiled— fucking smiled— as he tilted his head down and shook it. "Haven't I done enough for you? This is the thanks I get, when I try so hard to be kind to you?"

You choked on your gasp, tears falling down your face already even though you wanted more than anything not to let him see you weep. "Is this what it looks like when you try? I'd hate to see what happens when you just give in and show me how you really feel."

He scoffed. "You would hate it," he agreed.

"You're so cruel…" you whispered, choking on a sob. "How do you do that, Aemond? How are you so horrible to me, without a second thought?"

That seemed to anger him properly, and he finally stood up as rage heated his face. "How dare you come to my chambers and question me? After all I've done for you—!"

"All you've done?" you repeated incredulously. "Ignored and belittled me? Treated me like a stranger, secluded me to another bedroom… are these your mercies?"

He seemed confused— an emotion you weren't used to seeing on him. "Yes!" he answered, irritated. "What more could you want? I can't exactly have you living on another continent, can I?"

You blinked quickly, shaking your head at him. "I— I don't understand…"

"I grant you all that, because I know this marriage was not your choice," he explained, like it was obvious. "It wasn't mine either— we can at least be civil, and keep up appearances, for your honour and my own."

"Honour? Aemond, the court believes I am barren! I haven't the heart to tell them that you're disgusted by me!"

He stepped closer to you, the short distance making your heart race. "Disgusted? You may think me a monster, but I am only a man— even I know how beautiful you are."

Your throat caught. He said it like you should know— but it was news to you, and it made your heart skip. "If… if you think me beautiful, why— why did you never lay with me? Even on our wedding night?" you asked, feeling your face warm to discuss something so crude.

"I'm not like my brother," he sneered. "I have no desire to force myself on you…"

His eye darted to the side briefly.

"W-well, no intention, at least."

"Force?" you repeated, confused as you shook your head. "Aemond, you're hardly making any sense…"

"I'm not making sense, am I? Who are you to question me? You act like a nice, obedient wife— you like to make them think of you that way, don't you? But I let you live as you did before, as much as I can. What more do you want, woman?!" he asked ragefully.

"I… want only for you to hold me," you admitted, voice breaking as you cried in earnest. You felt like a child when he looked at you like this, even more so as you admitted your foolish desires. "I want my husband to love me— I want him to touch and kiss me, and tell me that he can't live without me. I want, even just for one day, to feel worthy of your love— fuck, just your attention! Just your approval!"

He blinked at you, softening, and you almost jumped when his hand reached up to tenderly stroke the back of your arm. "My wife…" he whispered, and your lips fell slack with a sigh.

He leaned in a bit closer then, reaching up to wipe a tear from the height of your cheek with his thumb. In all the months you'd been married, in the weeks you courted, he'd never touched you so sweetly.

"I… I didn't want to hurt you," he promised, "or scare you. I thought you—"

He lowered his voice again, shutting his eye, and you leaned in closer.

"I knew you couldn't love me," he whispered. "You're so sweet and lovely— I'm scarred. And you played the part well, but… I've seen that look before, when a lady is trying to be polite but is upset by the sight of me. I understand."

You reached up to hold his face, biting your shaking lip. “Aemond… I never— you’re beautiful.”

He turned away shyly, cheeks starting to tint in a way that only added to the beauty he was about to deny. “I know you want to be a good wife, but your flattery is inconceivable.”

“I always thought you were handsome, my prince,” you promised, forcing him to look at you so he could see the earnestness in your eyes. “And I don’t just want to be a good wife— I want to be your wife.”

"You always had my attention," he informed you. "And you never lost my approval."

Overcome with joy, you threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Though he seemed a bit stunned by your forwardness at first, he returned your hug; you could've sobbed when he embraced you. It was all you'd ever wanted, and it was so simple: just the touch of your husband— just the warmth and strength of him, wrapped around you.

Squeezing your shoulders gently, he sighed beside your ear. “You don’t need to be so excited,” he mumbled.

“Of course I’m excited,” you beamed, holding him even tighter. “I thought you— do you really care for me?”

“Yes,” he assured, and you pulled back to look at his face, just in case he was obviously lying or something. But he seemed genuine— actually, he seemed surprised that you didn’t believe him already.

"I won't believe you until you kiss me," you decided. Smiling, he leaned closer and took one more long look at your face before pressing his lips to yours.

It was sort of like how you'd imagined that it would be, at first. But in a moment, it was better than you could've ever thought.

It was needy. You loved it; your husband needed you. His kiss was still delicate and precise, yes, but filled with heavy sighs and hesitant attempts to pull you closer and press his body to yours. It was teeming with all that suppressed hunger, like he was fighting every instinct so he wouldn't overwhelm you. If only he knew he could do whatever he liked to you; if only you could make him let go and show his true self.

“I care for you,” he whispered into the kiss, almost so quiet you didn’t hear it… but you did, and you had to cling to his shoulders with your knees going weak. He pulled away to speak to you more clearly, as much as you hated being away from that kiss again. “I care for you too much to subject you to my presence.”

“Do you care for me too much to consummate our marriage?” you asked, catching the way his eye widened slightly while his grip at your waist tightened.

“Avoiding you was easier than resisting you,” he explained quickly. “It’s… difficult, even now, holding you like this, and not—”

“I want you to,” you admitted, nearly whining as you clutched at his shirt to pull him closer. “Since our wedding night— well, even before then, I wanted—”

"Don't," he pleaded, voice thin as he looked away. "I… I won't be able to hold myself back…"

"Take me, husband," you begged. "I— I waited for you all my life. I need to feel you, to please you—"

He snarled a bit as he shut you up with a bruising kiss, holding your back tightly.

You hummed into it, feeling heat flood your face (and between your legs) as he kissed you so… shamelessly. Your grip on him loosened, only because all of you went a little limp from the way his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you pressed your hands flat against the leather in hopes you could feel the warmth of his chest through it. Unfortunately, you couldn’t, so instead you found your hand slipping between two of the fasteners of his tunic, fingers brushing against the bare skin underneath. He pulled away from your lips, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength to pull your hand from his chest— his warm, porcelain skin—

"Your eagerness is unladylike," Aemond noticed with a pleased smirk.

"I-I am sorry, but I can't help it," you whimpered. "I've longed for you— I've dreamt of you—"

"Shh, I know," he smiled softly, petting your hair as you leaned into the gentle touch. "I quite like this desperation on you, anyways. Be careful not to let me enjoy it too much, or I'll make you wait another eight months."

"No, please," you breathed, "you could hold me every day and I'd be just as eager, my prince."

He sighed just by your ear, even something that simple making you shiver. "I'll do more than that— I'll never let you go. I'll hold you for the rest of our lives. Then will you be satisfied?"

Crying softly, you nodded and hid your face against his shoulder, sighing at the relief being close to him brought you.

He reached up slowly to help you unfasten the clothing that covered his upper body; watching him undress was just divine, in your opinion— every nimble motion of his fingers exposed a longer sliver of his torso until he shirked the tunic away from his shoulders and revealed himself to you. Biting your lip, you graced your fingers over his chest, admiring how strong he was and how delicate his ivory skin felt; if it weren’t for how shockingly warm he was to the touch, you’d believe he really was porcelain.

“Do you wish to see me too, husband?” you asked shyly, fishing for a little eagerness from him as well. He hummed as he leaned in to kiss your neck, reaching behind your back to unlace your gown as you held onto his arms.

“I apologise for how many breakfasts I missed,” he replied, not seeming to be a related statement at all until he went on. “Seeing you in your dressing gown was becoming too much to bear… all I could do was imagine how you must look without anything to cover you.”

You smiled proudly, though you couldn’t for very long when his tongue teasing along your pulse made you gasp shakily. “U-uncover me then," you pleaded, as if he wasn't already shedding you of the layers of your dress, down to the thin linen chemise underneath. You were told from an early age that your body was meant for your husband's eyes only, and aside from the occasional lady's maid who helped you dress, you'd covered yourself in modest wear in order to preserve your own dignity and keep your promise to your future husband. Maybe some would protest to such a stricture, but it seemed sort of romantic to you. And now that you were finally here, with Aemond's fingers delicately shedding you of your last layer of clothing, it was more intimidating than you expected— but in a good way, mostly. Really you were just scared that he wouldn't like what he saw; even if he said he was affected by the sight of you in your nightgown, he knew nothing of what laid beneath.

Taking a shaky breath, you held your arms out just enough for him to slide the thin fabric down, and the garment pooled on the floor at your feet.

For a moment, you couldn't find the courage to look up at Aemond, just blinking down at the ground beneath you. But soon, when he said nothing still, you worriedly glanced up to examine the expression on his face.

Before then, you wouldn't have known how to describe what lust looked like. Well, you still couldn't describe it, but you knew it when you saw it. And this? That darkness in those icy eyes, that tightness in his jaw and the subtle smirk on his lips? That was it.

You shivered as he ran his hands over you, a pleasant sort of chill that made you clench inside. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if you were pleasing to him, but he spoke first.

"Lay on the bed, wife."

You were, obviously, already very obedient. But you may have never been as instantaneous in your obliging as that moment. You were on your back on Aemond's bed in an instant, and he was atop you just a second later, kissing you again and breathing in deeply as his bare chest pressed to yours.

His hands returned to exploring you as his kiss became more and more overpowering; he was so warm, almost hot, pressed against you and it was simply the most perfect feeling. You found your legs spreading naturally without much thought put into it, and in the same way, his hand just seemed to move down between them of its own accord, gently rubbing over your mound as you whimpered from the feeling.

"Are you truly untouched?" he whispered against your lips.

"Of course," you answered, "how could I not be? You never touched me…"

He hummed softly. "I longed to," he admitted, "I imagined it…"

He delicately parted your folds with two fingers, making you shudder as his touch carefully discovered every detail of you. "I-is it like you imagined?" you wondered.

"Even more lovely," he replied. "You're so warm here, my love— are you warmer inside?"

You gasped loudly as he slid those fingers inside you. "Shh," he soothed. "It's only to prepare you."

Only to prepare? I feel as if I'm being torn apart already! you thought.

"Soon you'll be ready to take me inside you," he whispered. That was plenty of motivation to get through the pain, and he hummed contentedly as you pulsed inside, more of your arousal leaking out and threatening to leave a puddle on his bed.

"Will… will you keep your trousers on?" you wondered, as you looked down at where the pale skin stopped and the black leather began.

He seemed amused. "I know you're not naïve enough to think we can consummate this marriage with my trousers on."

"N-no! I mean—" you choked. "I meant that… I'm naked, and you haven't taken them off yet."

He raised an eyebrow, curling his fingers inside you and watching your face twist. "Are you that curious, my darling?" he mocked, leaning down to speak closely beside your ear. "Would you like to see my cock, is that it?"

Well, it seemed that the time for shame was well past… so, you bit your lip and nodded slightly, feeling his kiss the side of your face quickly.

"Soon," he promised. "It's easier to keep my patience this way."

Patience? After this long, his concern is patience?

Of course, you couldn't quite understand yet what Aemond was truly concerned with— but you would soon enough.

As much as it had stung to be entered by something for the first time, you were whining in disappointment when he pulled those fingers out of you— until he brought them to his lips and stared forward at you darkly while he sucked your flavour from them.

When he had licked every drop from his skin, he smiled at you and put those wet fingers by your hole again— wiggling and twisting them to fit three inside as your back arched.

"It's too much," you warned, grabbing his wrist. "Three is too many!"

"You'll need to take much more than three fingers, my darling," he chuckled. His free hand grabbed yours and guided it to his erection, firm and hot even though the leather, helping you rub him as he sighed. Your eyes went wide as you felt it, and he smirked at you. "Do you see now? You'll need to be prepared."

"Oh— my husband, you— are you sure it will fit?"

"Yes."

It wasn't as convincing as you'd hoped it would be. It felt so thick, and you were afraid your sense of touch was deceiving you with the length of it! Sure, you had no true point of reference having never even seen a man naked before, but you understand the mechanics of all this to find a sense of fear bubbling up in your gut. Would it hurt you? Would it break you?

And why did that idea, as terrifying as it should be, excite you a little bit?

Pulling him down into another kiss, you found yourself weaving your fingers into his hair, and when he pushed his fingers deeper into you again you couldn’t help but tug on the silver-y strands unintentionally. You started to apologise, before the little wince he let out turned into a low groan that made your walls bear down on his fingers yet again. And that made him sigh as he leaned down to kiss your neck, even biting on you just hard enough to make a whine escape from your throat.

“I should give you more time,” he admitted, “prepare you further, but… my patience is wearing thin, dear wife.”

“You don’t need patience with me, husband,” you assured, surprised by your own voice’s wavering as he kept filling you with his long fingers. “Just… say that you love me.”

He smirked a little, and the pridefulness in his face made you feel sort of foolish— but you sort of liked it. “I don’t know you enough to say that,” he replied.

Well, that wasn’t exactly your fault, was it? And he had three fingers to the knuckles inside you, he certainly knew you better than anyone else! “You don’t have to mean it,” you mumbled, “just say it…”

His free hand, attached to the elbow that he balanced himself on beside your head, lightly pet the line of your jaw as you blinked up at him. “Say that you love me first,” he decided.

“I love you,” you replied instantly, “of course— I love you more than anything.”

Smiling wider, he closed the space between you and kissed you softly. Only when your eyes fell shut did he answer in a whisper below his breath, “and I love you as well.” It seemed like it might be too much for him to say it with his eyes open.

He took his hand away from you and reached down; excitement jumped through you like a shock when you realised he was removing the rest of his clothes. It made the kiss suddenly much more… thrilling, less precise and more desperate as you grabbed onto his shoulders and felt his bare body lay fully on top of yours.

His hands ran up the back of your legs, holding them open wide for him, and his cock pressed against your waiting cunt; it was warm, that was the only word you could think of for it, and you moaned into his mouth as he just barely rocked his hips to slide himself over your slick folds.

Right as he held himself tightly, hissing softly between his teeth, and guided his thick and leaking tip to your opening, a second wind of hesitance startled you.

"Wait!" you blurted out, pushing him away just slightly by his shoulder. You could tell by the fear in his eye that he thought you were about to renege on the whole thing, admit that he was right from the start and you were too afraid of him to go through with any consummation.

Instead, you reached up to the brown leather patch on his eye, gently caressing it.

"Let me see my husband," you pleaded. "I know you don't like to show me— but I want to see you as you are."

You'd only seen him without the covering for a brief moment, on accident; a few weeks into the marriage you entered his chambers without permission, finding him without his shirt or patch, and he covered his face quickly to scold you for your rudeness. You were much too flushed by the sight of his bare chest— that toned, pale torso with scars of the softest pink in a few places— to mind his sapphire eye much or his frustrated rant. He could yell at you all he wanted if he did so in any state of undress! You thought he had the most beautiful body— seeing more of it today only proved your suspicions correct— and as he took off his eyepatch now, you smiled as you finally saw your husband's face.

A moment later, your smile fell into a gasp and a cry as he pushed himself into you. Head falling back onto the down pillow, you whined through your teeth as his cock filled you, and you dug your nails into his shoulders with more strength than you thought you had. "I'm hurting you," he noticed. "I tried to prepare—"

But as he pulled back, you reached down and held onto his hip. "No!" you whimpered. "Don't… don't stop. The pain will fade, yes? I— I want this so much, Aemond…"

He sighed, leaning down to kiss away a stray tear from your temple. "I know— and you've waited long enough, haven't you? My poor wife… I never wanted you to be lonely. I only wanted to protect you."

"From what?"

"This."

He put his hand over your mouth and shoved the rest of his cock inside you, muffling your scream as he groaned in satisfaction. He was so deep, and it burned to be stretched for the first time; you sobbed but wrapped your legs around his waist and tried to keep him inside. Still, he started to move, and you shuddered and wept as the pain seemed to bloom from your cunt and crawl up your back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't— I can't stop now, and you feel so warm…"

He looked at your face, twisted in pain, and stared at the hand over your mouth with and heavy gaze.

"I don't want them to hear you. No one should hear my wife but me— in her pleasure or pain."

Even as you shivered from the way it hurt, your heart sang to hear him call you his wife, and to be possessive of you in some way.

"You feel so perfect," he grunted, starting to fuck into you faster already. "It won't always hurt like this— just a little longer, I know you can take it for me, can't you?"

You nodded against the pressure of his hand over your face, hoping he wouldn't mind the way you pierced your nails into his skin to try to cope with the pain— you’d feel terrible if you left any marks on such a beautiful form as his, but then again, wouldn’t it be sort of erotic? Little half-moons carved into his white skin as a memory in the flesh, a way to claim him in return as he claimed you?

Yes, actually, it would be wonderful— and so you held onto him tighter, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

Each time his hips collided with yours, your whole body rocked under him and his grip on the sheets beside your head tightened until they threatened to tear. His breaths were fast and sharp as he moved, a lovely flush on his cheeks and his eyes shut (the scarred one only as much as it could be) as he chased his own ecstasy. Even though it still stung for a few moments longer, you loved looking up through your teary eyes as watching him, feeling impossibly proud knowing you were pleasing your husband this way.

He knew something had changed when your grip on his shoulders relaxed and you exhaled a long sigh from your nose that tickled his hand over your mouth (which he took away to admire your face in this moment). "Is it beginning to feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," you whimpered. "Yes, yes, yes—"

He laughed softly. "I heard you the first time," he soothed, "but you may say it as much as you like. Say my name as well, love— it never sounded as nice as it does from your lips…"

"Aemond," you breathed.

It spurred him on even more, deeper thrusts making your back arch and moans jump from your throat quickly. "Such precious sounds you make," Aemond noticed proudly. "Have you never felt this way before?"

You shook your head, and a snarl of twisted pride ghosted over his face. "Never— it feels— oh!"

He had leaned down to capture one of your hardening nipples between his lips, gently flicking at it with the very tip of his tongue until you jolted under him. You hadn't even known of such a thing before, you didn't realise how sensitive you were there or how beautiful Aemond would look with his mouth latched onto your breast. He switched back and forth between them, smiling occasionally when your moans grew louder or you gasped out his name at the feeling. A long whine slipped out when he kissed his way up from your nipple to the curve of your neck, moving his hips harder and faster as his bent arms kept him balanced and caged you in. “Tell me again,” he demanded in a pant, “how much you like this.”

“It’s— you feel so—” you choked, really trying to answer him but losing focus each time he filled you to the brim and rubbed against that one place that made everything light up inside you. Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and your toes curled, and you clung onto him as each thrust made your body— and mind— feel more and more beautifully helpless. “It’s so… deep…”

He purred a little.

“It feels so good,” you finally decided to answer, knowing it wasn’t the most descriptive but not sure how else to put it. “It feels amazing— you feel amazing… I don’t want it to ever end…”

His next sound was a hum of approval, and while it made you feel happy, you felt the urge to press for a more conclusive response.

“Does— does it feel— is it nice for you, too?” you panted out. For all those attempts to ask that question, it still came out sort of needy and pathetic, but he found that amusing and smiled against your skin as he kissed beside your ear.

“Nice isn’t the word,” he admitted. “There isn’t a word for how you feel, my darling. The closest I can think of is perfect.”

You were just hoping for a small compliment; you didn’t expect him to so flippantly say something that romantic, even poetic.

Just after you’d said you didn’t want it to end, he decided to stop and pull out of you. The emptiness was jarring and disappointing; reaching out for him as he sat up, he smiled and gave your waiting hand a squeeze. “Just a moment, my love.”

He sat up enough to lift your legs from around his hips, and hold them up as he pushed them against your upper body. Just when you wanted to warn him that you may not be as flexible as he expected, he slipped his cock inside you again— and when you’d remarked before about how deep he was, you had no idea how this would feel.

Your whole body tightened up and your face twisted in a gasp. “Is it too much for you?” he asked softly, the concern in his voice making your heart swell.

“No, please— keep going,” you insisted, though your back had to arch when he slid the rest of the way inside and you swore the head of his cock was going to go into your stomach or something. But it didn’t— it only stretched you to your absolute limits, a new sensation that wasn’t quite sharp enough to be pain but more powerful than you’d ever known pleasure to be. You whimpered, but braced yourself, ready to give him anything he needed.

"My sweet wife, so devoted," he groaned as he pushed his hips as hard as he could into you, holding you steady to force his cock just that last little bit deeper inside until your eyes rolled back. "You wanted so much to fulfil your marital duty— and look at you, taking it perfectly, even better than I imagined."

"You… you imagined this?"

Aemond laughed, heartily, at your question. "Only every night," he replied quickly, "with my hand around my cock, wanting to call for you but barely resisting each time."

You would've been ecstatic if your husband had called for you in the middle of the night to soothe his aching need; even if he sent you away right after he was finished and went back to ignoring you, it would've made you feel like less of a complete failure of a wife.

"I imagined more than this, though," he admitted. "I imagined kissing you and tasting you and hearing you say how dearly you love me…"

That explained why he’d asked you to say it before. You’d say it a thousand times if he asked— or, probably, even if he didn’t.

"I imagined you pregnant."

To say your heart skipped a beat was an understatement. Your heart skipped so many beats that you might have been technically dead for a couple seconds— except that you felt more alive than ever. There were a thousand things you’d like to say, but rendered totally speechless, all you could do was pant out his name weakly.

"We don't need to make any heirs," he reminded you. "But I could give you a child, if you want one."

Your heart had never been so filled before— finally, your husband's child, inside you: it could really happen. You'd longed to give him one (or many) since you met him and now… now you could finally bear him one. "Yes," you whimpered, "Aemond— a baby, I want one so desperately…"

But then again, you'd wanted a baby so you wouldn't be so alone— someone to keep you company. And now he was here, finally, and you didn't need to be alone anymore.

"I want us to— to be a family," you choked out, and you felt his smile against the side of your face.

"We are," he whispered. "Already, we are. Husband and wife. But, you would look divine carrying a son…"

You hummed contentedly at the praise, feeling his hand rub gently on your belly right where it would swell the most.

"Perhaps I will, then," he decided. "Bless you with a child… if you'd like that."

He was taunting you, tricking you into begging him for it— and you didn't mind at all, happy to oblige. "Yes! Please, my husband, my prince— I long for it, let me have your son, please… if you give me your seed, I promise, I'll do all I can—"

"Shh," he soothed softly, "I know you will. I know— such a good wife you are, a perfect wife…"

You felt warm tears run down your temples, all this devotion to him finally appreciated when you feared it would all go to waste. Clinging tighter onto him, you tried to hide your face in the curve of his neck. But he gently pried you away, cooing, "No, no— let me see you, let your husband gaze on you— oh, what a sweet face. Shall I kiss your tears away? All will be right, my love… you'll have our son. And what a lovely mother you'll make."

Maybe it was a strange thing to push you right up to the edge— but you’d been approaching it for a while, that was just the moment you realised how close you really were. The way he said it, you could somehow tell he’d thought for a while that you’d make a good mother for his children; maybe he thought that from the start, he must have if he agreed to marry you. And at the same time that it filled your chest with pride, it made your gut burn with a need for something you couldn’t quite define but that you knew was incredibly close.

Apparently, he was in a similar situation, though much more aware of what it really was than you were. “It won’t be much longer,” he promised. “If you ask me, I will— are you sure it’s what you want?”

"Please, my prince," you whimpered as you held on tightly to the sheets. "Please! Give me your seed, please—"

"Fuck," he groaned, "once more—"

"Fill me, Aemond, with your child— I'll do anything, I want it so much, I want to be pregnant—"

"My name," he hissed, shutting his eyes tightly as his thrusts became erratically fast. "Say my name again."

"Aemond," you whimpered, losing yourself in pleasure just as his name crossed your lips. "Aemond, my husband, my beloved— yours, m'yours, only you, Aemond—"

It was a feeling so powerful that it felt like you separated from reality for a brief moment— like you were floating in water except less wet and more… hot, more all-encompassing, more pure sensation that filled you from head to toe— and then seemed to rob you of all your remaining strength at once. As you went limp, he whined loudly and his movements faltered. It took you a moment to realise it was finally time: you were finally being filled by your husband. He groaned softly as he panted, silver hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his face.

He looked absolutely beautiful, even more than usual. And he finally blinked his eyes open and looked at you like he'd never seen anything so perfect.

His thumb gently wiped away a tear from your temple. "Lovely wife," he praised under his breath. "I can't wait to see you with child. I hate how long I waited… if I had taken you as I should have on our wedding night, our son would be almost here now…"

You pulled him down onto you for a tight hug. "None of that matters now," you whispered to him sweetly. "Just hold me, my husband— you said you'd never let me go."

He smiled as he sighed, melting into your arms and wrapping you up in his own. "Yes, my lady," he agreed as he tenderly kissed the side of your face.

He looked up at you when you entered the room, and even just the slight smile on his face made you fill with joy; for someone as stoic as Aemond, you knew it was a sign of incredible affection to be smiled at that way. “Good morn, my lady,” he greeted, standing from his seat at the breakfast table.

“I worried when I awoke without you,” you admitted, clutching shyly at your nightgown.

“I figured you would be used to it by now,” he smirked. “Have I spoiled you with affection already?”

Chewing your lip, you glanced away. “I thought— you said you’d never let me go.”

“Well, I wasn’t hungry when I said that,” he replied, chuckling. “I awoke earlier and was afraid to disturb you… you seemed in need of your rest.”

You seemed worn out from all the fucking, he really meant, but he was still trying to be polite.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me and dine, my love?” he prompted, nodding towards the chair nearest to him— not even across the table, where you used to sit. Feeling like you’d received some sort of promotion to sit so close, you happily bounced up to the table and a servant stepped forward to pull the chair out for you. “Actually—”

You and the servant both stopped, and you worried you were about to get kicked back to the end of the table; instead, he sat back in his chair and motioned for you to step closer. Normally, Aemond wouldn’t sit again until any lady in the room was seated (he was mindful of custom, always), but as you came closer, he patted his knee, and you felt your face warm up.

“You could sit with me,” he suggested, and you tried not to show how ecstatic you were as you perched yourself in his lap. He looked up at you with his uncovered eye, smiling, and draped his arm around your waist. It felt, honestly, a little bizarre to have him be this affection, even if he’d shown you love in the most literal way just last night… you were still getting used to it. And this felt very different, though it made you quite happy. “Would you like a grape?” he offered, gesturing to his plate.

“I was upset before that I felt I didn’t know my husband very well,” you recalled, totally ignoring his innocuous question, “and now I think I knew even less than I thought.”

He tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You’re so… romantic!” you blurted out, and he laughed.

“I don’t know about that,” he denied. “But I am rather taken with you. And I must say…”

His voice lowered, as did his gaze, while his hand traced down your back delicately through your clothes.

“...I’m still just as affected by seeing you in your dressing gown,” he finished softly.

“I-I—” you stammered, making him smile amusedly at you. “I’m still just as amazed at how forward you can be, my prince… and to think I thought of you as shy once.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “I am shy,” he assured. “I’ll even dismiss the servants before I fuck you on this table.”

You raised your hand to your mouth to cover it, hoping to suppress your shocked giggle, but he grabbed it and held it tightly as he pulled you even closer, until you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, yet: he only looked at your face very carefully. You looked back at him, of course, and found yourself reaching up to stroke his cheek as you admired his sharp, harsh sort of beauty. “You… you really plan to take me again, husband? Now?”

He smiled wide, maybe wider than you’d ever seen. “I was going to let you have breakfast first,” he clarified. “Unless ‘now’ is your preference.”

You looked away, smiling to yourself. “I’ve heard eagerness is unladylike,” you dodged his obvious attempt to make you out to be the needy one. Which wasn’t exactly false, but not fair either: you knew he wanted you just as badly, and finally knowing that gave you a little confidence to toy with him instead.

“Maybe you aren’t the finest lady, then,” he accused, which almost hurt before he continued, “but you are the most perfect wife any man has ever had, or wished to have.”

And, in an objective sense, Aemond hadn’t been much of a husband. Last night notwithstanding, he was all but cruel to you— and though he’d finally allowed himself to give in to desire for you, it was not as if his entire personality would change, he was still… whoever he was, an enigma with white hair and an eyepatch.

But he was perfect to you, and you loved him with everything you had.

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them. He hated the loud guests, the small talk, the awkward customs— but those were the things you liked the most, they seemed to bring life to the empty old castle.

It wouldn’t be as empty soon, though; that was the purpose of this banquet, to announce and celebrate your impending addition to the family. And as much as Aemond generally disliked social engagements, he was obviously glowing with pride as he showed off his pregnant lady wife to the court. Now that you saw it on him, you thought maybe that was what he meant when he said you were glowing… but you weren’t sure, because whenever he said it you just figured it was sweat from having to carry around his massively heavy child all the time.

Not that you minded! You loved it, and he doted on you more than ever, kissing your belly and coming up with all kinds of plans for his son— and he was still sure it was a son, with no proof at all, but you weren’t even going to try to convince him otherwise.

“A toast,” Aemond instructed his guests, who raised their goblets in turn with him, “to my son, Vaegon—”

The guests started to lower their cups, but he wasn’t finished.

“— and his mother, my darling lady wife.”

You beamed as he squeezed your shoulder. Yes, it was no wonder you loved banquets now that you had the most adoring husband by your side for the night.

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