content: Your life is never dull with two husbands and eight children. Especially when you take in to account the blood of the dragon that flows through their veins.
moodboard
parts(in timeline order):
⤷ love at first sight
୨ৎ hate or love?
୨ৎ mama, papa & maekar
୨ৎ we were done!
୨ৎ a daughter?
୨ৎ better than this
୨ৎ what would you do without me?
extras:
⤷ family tree for each universe
୨ৎ resolving conflict
୨ৎ how did it happen?
୨ৎ who's their favorite?
୨ৎ the empty space (if the trial of seven happend)
୨ৎ who's the daddy
୨ৎ papa's girl
୨ৎ this time is different
୨ৎ overbearing husbands
୨ৎ dragon eggs (if the kids eggs hatched)
୨ৎ wildfire
୨ৎ learn your lesson one (Maekar) | two (Baelor)
୨ৎ the aftermath (if Baelor lived after trial of seven)
୨ৎ change of plans
୨ৎ gentle words or fists
୨ৎ can't outrun it
୨ৎ what could have been
୨ৎ a different end | the forgotten
୨ৎ surprise?
୨ৎ lost sons
୨ৎ your side
୨ৎ the empty cradle
୨ৎ the mad prince
୨ৎ the cursed womb
୨ৎ overwhelmed
୨ৎ the puppets
୨ৎ the hammer and the anvil
୨ৎ modern au
୨ৎ shut up, and pull your pants down
hidden truth au (if Maekar's marriage was denied):
⤷ the truth (if the King denied Maekar's marriage)
obsession - aerion targaryen x blackfyre! male reader
"and they must love each other with blood"
aerion x blackfyre! male reader, in which both mad princes love each other with obsessive, mad love
note: Consider this a completely AU, detached from the actual book or show. Basically, like any 'x reader' story.
warnings: Blood, violence, sexual scenes! Reader is called the "Black Prince" because—suprise —he usually dresses in black. After all, he's from the house BLACKfyre.
“Will [Name] join us?” Baelor asks Makekar. Aerion’s ears pricked up like an alert dog. “I haven’t seen him in a while, I’d like to see how he’s doing.”
“Yes, he’ll be coming tomorrow. He’s coming from Willowhole,” his father replies, still eating. Silence fell at the table.
Lord Ashford coughed awkwardly into his embroidered handkerchief. “My Prince, are you talking about [Name] of House Blackfyre? I didn’t realize he’d be coming to the tournament…” He says this barely concealing his shock.
“To you, he’s Prince Blackfyre. The King hasn’t stripped him of his title,” Aerion hisses. His father kicks him under the table and looks at him with a warning glint in his eye.
“Yes, he will be coming,” Baelor confirms, setting down the cutlery and reaching for a goblet of wine. “Why wouldn’t he come? He might compete in the tournament; he’s talented, skilled in combat and horsemanship.”
Lord Ashford begins to sweat and glances around nervously. His wife and children react with the same uncertainty as their father. "Well, I didn't expect…"
"A traitor's son at your daughter's tournament?" Areion grins, his toothy smile visible, down to his fangs. He glares defiantly at the old lord, then at his daughter. The girl cringes at his sick smile. His father kicks him under the table again.
"He is my ward, Lord Ashford. He has been with me since he was a child; it's hard not to treat him like a son." Maekar looks at the old lord with those gleaming eyes. Aerion knows them, knows that look. His father is irritated. "Though the title of prince is only symbolic, I would ask that you address him accordingly; he still has Targaryen blood in him."
Something evil, dark, and murky fills Aerion's belly. It slithers along his bones, settles heavily in his groin. It warms his body from the inside like a burning, sinful fire. He loves the pleasant warmth of that sinful fire. His father's suggestion that [Name] is like a son to him, and that it's almost like he's having sex with his brother… turns him on.
It's an obsession. Aerion knows it well. [Name], the Traitor Prince, the Cursed Prince, the Black Prince. They call him many things, but Aerion doesn't really care. This boy, this young man, awakens his worst instincts. A craving for pain, fire, and pleasure.
He dreams of his mouth, shamelessly moaning through bloody lips, as Aerion took him from behind on the stone floor, the Blackfyre Prince's nails grinding against the stones. He dreams of the rage in his eyes, as he had Aerion in the bathtub. Aerion on his lap, in the warm water, as he scratched his hips with his dull nails.
He thinks constantly of claws, furious hisses, growls, and anger, the kind of rage only two deranged princes can give each other.
Your horse whinnies loudly as it enters the courtyard. The light brown mare flattens her ears and glares at everyone. The grooms immediately rush over and grab the horse by the reins. You pull off your leather gloves and are about to dismount when you feel a hand on your thigh.
"I'll help you, Prince." Areion's voice. You'd recognize it anywhere. It always sounds like it's about to lead you to hell.
"Aerion." You say quietly. Violet eyes are fixed on you, only you. They shine, as always. As if they were always ablaze with fever.
He slides his hand up your thigh and grabs your hips. He helps you dismount. Without a glance at the servants, he hands them your horse's reins and orders them to leave. As always, he hesitates to remove his hand from your hips. The emptiness after his touch seems to burn.
"I thought you wouldn't come," he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You go to the castle to greet Prince Baelor and Prince Maekar. Aerion walks beside you, his fingers brushing your hand. Good thing the cloak hides it, and people are staring at you without it, without all the furtive touches, finger brushes, kisses and bites stolen in the hallways. At both of you. The Mad Dragon and the Black Prince. Two madmen. Mad princes. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, because you're pretty sure you're not as mad and cruel as Aerion, but the bad reputation sticks. But who really knows…
"I wouldn't miss an opportunity to face you in a tournament," you say, trying your hardest to suppress a smile.
Aerion shivers beside you. "Do you think we'll face each other in one round?" he asks, his voice trembling with excitement.
"It's possible." You say indifferently. "People are looking for a sensation, they'll find it if they pit us against each other. Prince Baelor won't be able to do anything about it; they'll chalk it up to chance." You shrug.
"Father will be furious."
You only murmur an affirmative in response. The castle corridors are chilly. You feel the prince's hand caress the small of your back. He pushes you into a small, side corridor. He quickens his pace and urges you to go faster, smiling as you quicken your pace. Almost running, you turn twice more. It's empty, not even the voices or sounds from the courtyard can be heard. A small corridor, ending with a stained-glass window.
Before you smile, you're pressed against the wall, and Aerion's lips fall on yours in a furious kiss. He grabs your ass and pulls you up, sitting you on the cold, stone windowsill. The cold contrasts with Aerion's hot body, the shivers that run through your body burning you with fire.
“I missed you.” Aerion growls against your mouth.
You only moan into his mouth, attacked again by his teeth. He bites you, and you feel the metallic taste of blood. You slide your hands under his shirt and scratch the skin on back, drawing blood. He hisses into your mouth and nips your ass. You smile into the kiss. Instead, he pulls your hair and tilts your head back, biting your neck repeatedly, leaving a trail of blood.
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He's already hard. You smile, and blood trickles down your neck.
"I want you tonight." He breathes into your neck. He tugs at the clasps of your coat and the buttons of your shirt, leaving a trail of blood. "I want you on the bed, in the bathtub, I want you under me tonight with your ass wet."
"Agreed. Next time, I'll take you in the forest, on the grass. While there's still dew." You sigh as he sucks on the skin of your neck.
"I like it."
Madness pushes you further and further. A sick obsession and jealousy traps you both in each other.
You don't even remember how it all began. You met as children, the same age. Something immediately drew you together. The older Aerion got, the more jealous he became of you. He scared away all the girls, then, when he realized you were attracted to men - he scared them away too. Until finally, one night, when you were both alone in Summerhall, you don't even remember why; it just so happened that it was just you, Aerin, and the servants in the castle.You made love all night in the gardens, on a blanket, and under the trees. On the grass, until you were soaked in dew. You were his, and he was yours. A wild night that opened chasms in your souls. As if someone had poured Wildfire into you.
With a quick movement, he pulls down your pants and teases the skin on your buttocks.
"Aerion…" you sigh. And then you just moan softly, to the rhythm of his quick, shallow breaths.
"We should have ended this. Before it went too far."
Maekar says, staring at the closed door. [Name] and Areion had just entered from the chamber Baelor currently occupies. Their condition was unmistakable. [Name] had a split, bloody lip, with traces of blood and mouth on his neck. His buttoned shirt and cloak were crooked. His clothes were twisted and there was a bloody handprint at his waist. The same bloody traces on his son's neck and cheeks, his hair and clothes tousled. A feverish glint in their eyes. Nearly 40 minutes had passed since [Name] rode through the castle gates and came to see them.
What his ward and Aerion were doing was clear. He didn't need to guess.
"Why?" Baelor asks calmly, too calmly.
Maekar looks at his brother as if he were crazy. "Are you serious…? They looked like they were trying to eat each other."
The elder prince hands his brother a cup of wine. "They were both obsessed with each other from the start. Remember how jealous Aerion was of him from the start. When they were children, it was even adorable."
"Don't joke about that."
"Why do you want to forbid it them and keep them apart? They may be mad, but they're mad together. They like each other, in their own bloody way. [Name] focuses Aerion's attention on himself, distracting him from thoughts of dragons and fire. The more Aerion focuses on the young Blackfyre, the less the others suffer."
"Aerion is hurting him. He may not be my son, but I've known this boy since he was a child. I don't want him to be his next victim."
"I don't think he is. They just like hard, bloody sex."
Maekar glares at his brother. A servant enters and leaves them a jug of wine. Baelor watches as the servant leaves, listening for his footsteps in the hallway.
"In our family, brothers marry sisters, male cousins marry female cousins." Baelor looks at his brother pointedly. "Why not male cousin… together."
Makekar snorts and drinks all his wine at once. "I feel like I've put two of my sons to bed."
The two stare at each other for a moment, engaging in a silent duel. "You know perfectly well that Aerion won't let anyone even stand near [Name], breathe too close to him, let alone touch him, even if he's not Aerion. Whoever you try to match and marry witch our black prince, Aerion will kill him."
"So what do you propose?" Maekar says resignedly.
"They both delight in their own blood, so let them be together. Officially or not, it doesn't matter. As long as Aerion's obsession is focused on [Name], we'll have peace."
"You had everything planned, right? That's why you wanted [Name] to come to Ashford?" Baelor just nods. "[Name] may be from a family of traitors, but he's… relatively normal. He has a flair for strategy and politics. He's wise and well-read. He's loyal, despite his family's inglorious history. I thought I'd leave him at court, help Valarr. Aerion can stay with him." Baelor adds cautiously.
Maekar shivers. Something in his brother's gaze displeases him. "Aerion? On Court?"
The heir to the throne nods slowly. "Aerion can become a Kingsguard… he'll protect [Name]. I don't think he'd lift a finger for anyone else."
Maekar looks at his brother calmly. He's not sure if he likes this plan, but at the same time, he feels a weight lifted from his heart.
Birdsong wakes you. Beside you, Aerion murmurs in his sleep as the sun's rays fall on his face. You smile at the sight of his peaceful face. When he's asleep, you don't think he's such a cruel person.
Aerion slowly opens an eye, his violet irises seems pale in the morning light. Seven hells, how you love those eyes. They're so beautiful, so extraordinary compared to yours.
"Good morning, my prince," you murmur, pressing yourself against him and kissing his bitten lips.
He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. Your body aches; you have bite marks everywhere his mouth has touched, and there are traces of blood on the sheets, blood and semen everywhere. Hair ripped out and a knife tangled in the sheets. He carved an A into your buttock.
"My Prince Traitor."
"I am not a traitor," you say instinctively.
Aerion nips your lower lip. Blood flows again. Aerion inhales the metallic scent.
"You'd betray everyone if I asked you to, Black Prince." He says it with fierce satisfaction. He pinches your hip. He smooths his hands over your exposed buttocks.
"Anything for my Dragon," you say, feeling his cheek.
Aerion quickly rolls onto his back and pulls you closer. You straddle his hips. His cock is already half-hard. The prince admires the marks on your body. His teeth marks, his semen on your thighs, the nail marks, the bruises. His fingers trace the carved letter A on your ass.
"If only you wanted…" he begins in a whisper. He places his hands on your hips and squeezes them, drawing a soft moan from your lips. "If only you wanted, I would seat you on the Iron Throne and stand beside you."
He lifts your hips, and you bite your lower lip. You slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You moan loudly as he slowly enters you. Aerion smiles with satisfaction as you begin to slowly move.
"I don't want a throne, I want you."
The tourney field is crowded. A crowd of lords has gathered, along with even more servants and common folk. Walking among the tents in this crush was a pleasant way to pass the time. Even if everyone was staring at him, and [Name].
"They're staring again." A soft whisper tickles his skin. [Name] leans close to him. Aerion smells peppermint oil. The sharp scent pleasantly burns his nose.
"Let them talk. Let them. It's the only entertainment they have in their sad lives." Aerion smirks. He scans the people strolling through the fields.
He snorts. With a quick movement, he takes his Lord Blackfyre by the arm and walks boldly through Ashford Meadow. People avert their gazes as they pass. Mad princes, the Black Prince, and the Mad Dragon. They call them by various names. Aerion doesn't even notice them. A much larger treasure walks beside him. They look like a blur of black and red. Aerion loves him. He would do anything for him. For those eyes, which he spitefully calls common.
He can't bear the thought of anyone touching his prince. If he had only asked, Aerion would have given him the Iron Throne.
You feel the eyes of the others on you. It doesn't bother you, you're used to it; now, after all these years, it's just tiring.
Maekar and Baelor are already seated in the booth. You feel Prince Baelor's gaze on you.
"Wait for me, I'll go see how Daeron is getting on his armor."
You sit down next to Maekar. "Aerion went to check on Daeron." You say, as your guardian looks at you questioningly.
Less than 20 minutes pass, and you hear shouting somewhere. You blink rapidly.
"[Name], please, go see what Aerion has done this time." Baelor says this so calmly, as if he were talking about a weather. Maekar only adds that you are to bring him.
You stand up and walk briskly towards the shouting. A crowd has formed. A crowd of men and women has gathered around Aerion. You assume so, because what else could have happened here more? You push through the crowd, and people move aside as soon as they see who you are. And you hear the prince's furious hiss.
"What did you say about Prince Blackfyre? Repeat, you were so brave before."
Aerion stands, crushing the young man's hand with his boot. You recognize his coat of arms, but now you can't recall the name.
"Aerion." You say, not even needing to shout to get the prince's attention. Aerion's full attention immediately falls on you. A smile spreads across his face. The bite wound on his lip bursts, and blood trickles down his chin.
"Ah, there he is, Prince Blackfyre." Aerion presses harder on the man's hand. "Now, You can tell him what you said, to his face."
You wait. Your gaze slowly moves from the man kneeling on the ground to Aerion and his smile.
"Aerion, we have no time for such meaningless games. Prince Baelor is expecting us." You say this in a tone as awake as if you were talking about flies buzzing around a horse turd.
"If he apologizes, we'll go."
You look at the man. Pain contorts his face. "Then make it quick, I'm bored."
"Did you hear what my prince told you?" Aerion grabs the man's chin and squeezes hard, making him cry out. "Hurry and apologize to the prince."
You see tears in the man's eyes. He looks at you with terrified eyes. "I'm sorry I called you a prince's whore and a traitor, my lord."
You snort. "If you're done, let's go." You say to Aerion indifferently.
He takes the shoe from the man's hand, and he cries with relief. The prince is at your side in a few steps. He tries to embrace you, but you pull away. You look at him condescendingly. "Wash your hands first, I don't want you to get me dirty with this…" You shake your head at the crowd behind you.
Aerion grins. A trickle of blood flows from his split lip again.
"Of course, my prince." He says with a tenderness so out of keeping with his earlier actions.
"I have a request, [Name]. Smile for me."
You smile broadly. You feel the cuts on your lips burst open and blood trickle down your chin. Aerion smiles just as broadly and bloodily.
"You're perfect."
Many, many years later – epilogue and epitaph
“Egg… who was Aerion?” Duncan asks, leafing through old books.
King Aegon, still Egg to Duncan, even though he’s older now, peers over his shoulder. His face darkens.
“My brother."
Duncan scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think I meet him.”
Egg laughs awkwardly. “That would be difficult. Aerion’s been dead for a long time.”
“I’m sorry,” the knight says quietly.
Egg shakes his head. “There’s no need. Aerion was cruel, evil, and mean. He was a terrible man. Funny enough, he died of love.” Egg looks at the book with sad eyes.
“What do you mean?” Dunk asks, interested.
Aegon sighs and flips through a few pages. A portrait of a young man. Duncan leans forward and reads. "[Name] of House Blackfyre… Isn't he from that family of traitors, the ones behind the rebellions? Why is he in your family's book?" Dunk frowns.
"He was my father's ward after the first rebellion, If i remember corretly. He came to Summerhall as a boy. In later years he became Aerion's lover. It was only for him that Aerion became a Kingsguard when [Name] became Valarr's Hand."
Dunk just nods. "What happened to them…?"
"[Name] was wounded, very gravely. He was dying, and there was no hope. He's hours were counted. Aerion couldn't accept it. Before [Name] died of his wounds, they both drank wildfire. They died like dragons — in the fire of their love."
cw: angst, diabetes amount of fluff, polyamorous relationship, hurt/comfort, pre s2, comfort sex, praise kink, vaginal sex, oral sex, squirting, soft dom!top!reader, spooning position, mentioned past threesomes, infidelity (andressa and nolan in the end 😬).
word count: 1.5k
authors note: continuing from this post a lifetime ago. this is my most angsty fic yet :’) enjoy 💕
the only thing that just as painful as fighting your husband, nolan, the man whom you had loved for two decades after witnessing him beat your son (mark) to a pulp: was watching your wife, debbie break into a million figurative pieces on your bed while she was holding one of nolan’s shirts.
you had always admired her independence and compassion. she taught you and nolan the history, beauty, and culture of this peculiar planet. it wasn’t long until she and nolan had stolen your heart. the house was empty and mark was off to college. you had come back home from the grocery store, a box of debbie’s favorite snacks in your hand when you caught sight of her sobbing self.
debbie was the strongest person in the universe to you. she had always put the needs of others before herself. this time, you’ll be sure to make her feel loved and supported. she didn’t push away from you as you took her into your sturdy arms, nolan’s shirt immediately forgotten.
she let’s out a sob when she felt your lips trailing from her collarbone to her neck. a few tears still manage to escape her closed lids but disappear as you kiss them away. debbie sits on your lap as she hides her swollen face on your chest.
“i’m sorry—”
“you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“how could i’ve been so stupid to believe him for all those years—?”
you gently cup her tear stained cheeks as you softly muttered, “i believed him too. nolan’s betrayal hurt us both. but you’ve been dealing with it all by yourself when we should’ve been dealing with it together, debbie. you’ve been strong long enough, for mark and myself. i’ve never been more proud of you, but now it’s your turn to let go and be taken care of. will…” she gasps when you give her waist a small squeeze, you continue to ask with soft eyes, “…you let me?”
debbie had never felt more loved in her life, she had no clue what she would do if you weren’t there by her side. the bed was never cold. your tender smile greeted her every morning. you treated her like she was a queen worthy of your worship. she was so tired of putting on a facade. tonight, she wanted to be yours.
debbie answers your question by wrapping one of her arms around your neck as her plump lips pressed against yours, to which you warmly welcomed back. all the while, her other hand snuck under your shirt and started stroking your abdomen.
you removed her shirt and unclasped her bra, debbie let out a pleased sigh as her chest was released from its cage and hung free, her nipples hardened under your lustful gaze. you didn’t waste any time in getting naked yourself as debbie continued to strip herself for you. her heart leaped when you stared at her body with the same hunger as when you first saw her naked all those years ago.
a string of slick reveals itself as debbie removes her panties when she catches sight of your toned muscles shining under the light of the sunset peeking through your bedroom window. your dick throbbed and felt heavy as debbie took it in her hand, you shallowed your groans with a steamy kiss as her fingers played with your tip.
before debbie could make a move to take you into her mouth, you stopped her. she stared up at you puzzled.
“i’m supposed to take care of you, remember? i wanna spoil you, make you feel good,” you spoke in a thick tone that it has debbie clenching around nothing. you said nothing as you picked up debbie like she weigh nothing as placed her carefully on the cold bedsheets. you spread her legs apart until you were met with the delicious sight of her wet pussy. your cock jumps and your balls made it painfully clear that they were full than ever. you wanted to dive into her body and never part, but you ceased those thoughts. this was for debbie, not you. there would be a time for that later.
debbie looked up at you with pleading eyes, you lowered yourself down on the floor at the edge of the bed. your hands continued to lovingly caress debbie’s thighs. then, without warning, you leaned your face towards her cunt and push your tongue inside her twitching walls.
“oh fuck— ah! oh, this feels so good,” debbie cried out, her legs wrapped themselves around your head. she didn’t know if it was because you were an alien or whatever, but your tongue always managed to reach the deepest depths of her better than nolan could.
debbie fists the sheets as you continue to stretch her out, but you didn’t stop there. you ravenously sucked her clit, your growls sending pleasant vibrations through out. you devoured her like an inmate on death row. debbie was reminded on how greedy you were when it came to her pussy. whether it was to eating her out or thrusting your fat cock into her, it didn’t matter. you were drunk on her and nolan’s respective holes nonetheless.
debbie let out gasping moans as your tongue flattened over her overstimulated clit and dragged it back and forth. just to throw her over the edge, you pumped your fingers in and out of her sopping pussy, curling them up and pressing them against her walls until they found her sweet spot. you stared up at her with a soft, demanding look, as if you were commanding her to let go and release all over your face.
the only sounds in the rooms were the slurping of your mouth against debbie’s sex and her uncontrollable noises and pleas for more. It was too much and perfection at the same time. debbie shook as she choked out a cry, she sees stars as her orgasm rushes through her and slick squirts over your lips and nose.
debbie laid on the bed like a stringless puppet, her eyes closed as she catches her breath. meanwhile, you rise from the carpeted floor, wipe the clear slick from your face, and use it to lube your hard cock. it had already turned bright red near the tip due to you ignoring it. now the real fun can begin. you give debbie a few minutes to rest, you handed her a bottle water to drink as you showered her in praise.
debbie flushed at the overwhelming adoration. debbie recalled another memory of you taking charge in the aftercare as nolan and debbie held each other in warm embrace after a particularly exhausting session. you made sure they were the most comfortable.
finally, you set debbie sideways on top of the soft pillows as you laid behind her, snaking your arm around her waist as you grind your dick against her entrance. debbie whined when she felt the tip of your cock touch her clit after every movement of your hips.
you peck her neck once more and whisper next to her ear, “i love you, debbie. more than anything else. you aren’t alone, this wasn’t either of our faults. you’re my strong, beautiful wife. nothing’s gonna change that.”
you hear debbie’s breath hitch before salty tears fill her eyes once again. she turns her head and holds onto your neck so she could press a kiss to your lips. your bodies were tangled up like a intimate pretzel, even if you didn’t have your super hearing, you’d still be able to hear debbie’s heartbeat due to how close she was.
nobody else but yourself, debbie and nol—
…nobody else but debbie and youself existed…
debbie pulls away from the kiss first as a few tears escape from her eyes again, she stares at you with pure love and trust as she mutters out, “thank you for everything. i love you more. please, please put it in—”
debbie trailed off and let out a sighing moan when she felt your cock fill her to the brim, your hips press flush against her. your tongue was perfect, but your dick was divine. you were going to do everything in your power to make sure nobody hurt your family again. but in the deepest corner of your mind laid a traitorous thought.
where did nolan go, and was he okay?
after you and debbie were done making love, you use your super human speed to make quick work of clean up and gave debbie one last kiss good night before covering the two of you in a blanket and sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks.
meanwhile, nolan stared up blankly at the countless stars above him from his spot on the balcony that was just outside his bedroom, where andressa slept peacefully on his bed heavy with his future child. despite how far he traveled, nolan could never run away from the memories of what he’d done. he was a disgrace to his empire, and to his family.
the picture of you and debbie appear in his mind. no matter how many times he tried to deny caring for the two of you: he couldn’t believe it himself. he wished things could’ve been different.
The channel is now called “Genesys Upcycled”. It’ll still come up if you type in the regular name, but the first thing to come up is some AI company or whatever
important that you never forgive ice agents, ever. even years after all this is over (and I do believe we will make it out on the other side, alive and for the better,) they live in shame and disgrace forever. no excuses, no forgiveness. they ruined their own lives when they decided that human freedom and liberty was an acceptable sacrifice for a paycheck
Hey horny writer lil heads up for you guys, the “ai” google is forcing into docs to “scan for grammar errors” has been proved to also be scanning for spicy content and multiple ppl have already got notifs saying like “we’re sorry, there was a system error and some of your work was lost” and it was only the horny stuff so uh
Pleeeeease back up your files !!!! Don’t lose your horny to a robot, that’s Doc’s job, not Docs’…
hello horny writers of tumblr this is your shine to try out ellipsus instead of google docs. it's completely free and the team behind it have a very strong stance against the use of AI in creative spaces. I haven't been using it long but it works beautifully.
synopsis: gojo's bet
pairing: frat! gojo X top male reader
note: any comments or reblogs are appreciated, my own contribution to frat gojo lol
warning: first time, virgin, overstimulation, dumbification, college AU
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"Gojo, you have to admit, you always go after the same type," Geto teased, taking a sip of his beer.
"It's not my fault i have a type" Gojo shrugged, leaning back against the couch not wanting to entertain this conversation. As president he had a reputation to uphold and simply fucking nobodies wasn't the way.
"No, I just think your scared of bad dick" Shoko chimed in. At that his friends began laughing hard. Gojo only went after the more 'experienced' people on the campus like the typical sorority girls and guys who were know to sleep around.
The whole group burst out laughing. Gojo's usual conquests were the experienced ones- sorority girls and guys who knew exactly how to handle him. He never risked anything less than a guaranteed good time.
"I'm not scared, okay? I'm just delicate around who i let fuck me" `Gojo defended himself, flashing that signature blinding grin.
Mhm. Sure," Geto and Shoko said in perfect unison, exchanging skeptical looks. The rest of the circle didn't even try to hide their disbelief. Everyone knew Gojo was a shameless manwhore he didn't know the meaning of picky.
"Fine." Gojo snatched his beer and chugged the rest in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The alcohol burned just enough to fuel his ego. "I'll let the biggest-looking loser here tonight fuck me. Right here, right now. That'll shut you all up."
His friends' eyes widened, but the challenge hung in the air like a dare no one expected him to actually follow through on.
Gojo pushed off the couch and prowled into the crowded party, head held high, white hair practically glowing under the shitty colored lights. For once, he wasn't scanning for the usual hot bodies grinding on the dance floor. He was looking for someone pathetic enough to make the story hilarious later but not so ugly he'd regret it.
The music grew quieter as he reached the far corner of the house, where a smaller group had claimed a beat-up couch for some lame card game. There you were.
Tall. Broad-shouldered under that oversized hoodie. Handsome in that quiet, unaware way with sharp jaw, messy hair, and those cute glasses slipping down your nose while you focused on your cards. Your nerdy friends looked just as shocked when Gojo strode straight up and wrapped long fingers around your arm.
"C'mon," he said, already tugging you away without asking your name. Your friends' mouths fell open in confusion, but Gojo didn't care.
He pulled you down the hallway, away from the noise, until the bass was just a dull thump behind closed doors. Only then did he stop, turning to face you with a lazy, predatory smirk. His bright blue eyes raked over you slowly taking in your height, the way your glasses framed your face, the surprised flush already creeping up your neck.
"Not bad," He murmured, almost to himself. "I thought I'd have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, but you... you're actually kinda hot for a nerd. Shame I never noticed you before."
Gojo stepped closer, backing you gently against the wall, his voice dropping into that smooth, teasing drawl he knew made people weak.
"Here's the deal. My friends think I can't handle 'bad dick.' So tonight, I'm letting you fuck me. No strings attached, no repeats unless you're decent, I guess." He tilted his head, lips curling. "But let's be real. I bet you'll be done in under five minutes. Try not to embarrass yourself too badly, okay? I still have a reputation to uphold."
He leaned in until his breath brushed your ear, voice low and mocking.
"Name's Gojo Satoru. Now... take me upstairs and show me what that cock can do." At that, you lifted Gojo effortlessly. His long legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, and a surprised little laugh escaped him as he felt just how strong you were. You carried him all the way down the hall and into the spare bedroom, pausing only once you’d crossed the threshold.
Of course you knew what was about to happen. This was going to be your first time. But the second you had Gojo in your arms, every single thing you thought you’d learned from porn vanished from your head. You froze in the middle of the room, heart hammering.
Gojo noticed immediately. He scoffed, muttering under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Please tell me his dick is big at least…”
He pulled back slightly, eyes locked on yours with that signature cocky smirk. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and tugged his shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing the lean, toned body underneath. You couldn’t look away. Every inch of him was unfairly perfect.
Then came the trousers. He pushed them down along with his boxers in one go, stepping out of them with casual grace. The moment he was fully bare in front of you, your mouth went dry then immediately started watering. You’d never imagined just watching a man undress could be this erotic, but Gojo had a way of making everything feel like foreplay.
He stepped closer, closing the distance until his bare chest brushed against your clothed one. His fingers made quick work of your jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. He shoved both your jeans and underwear down your thighs in one go.
The second your cock sprang free, thick and heavy, Gojo’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. For a split second that arrogant mask slipped, replaced by raw, hungry shock. He let out a low, impressed whistle.
“Well… fuck,” he breathed, a slow grin spreading across his face as he quickly recovered. “You’ve been hiding that this whole time?”
Before you could even respond, he sank gracefully to his knees, eyes never leaving yours. He leaned forward, warm breath ghosting over your length as he lowered his mouth toward you. Gojo’s lips hovered just above your cock, hot breath teasing the sensitive head. He glanced up with that signature cocky smirk, eyes glittering with amusement.
He gave the thick shaft a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip. “Guess the quiet ones really do hide the biggest surprises."
He finally opened his mouth and swallowed you down smoothly, taking you surprisingly deep. The wet heat made your breath hitch and your hands tremble at your sides. Gojo hummed smugly, clearly enjoying how overwhelmed you looked as he started bobbing his head with practiced confidence.
For the first few moments you just stood there, frozen, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your ears. This was really happening. Your first time. And Gojo Satoru - the campus playboy - was on his knees for you. The sensation was almost too much; you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly too soon.
But after a minute, the initial shock started to fade. The fantasies and hours you’d spent imagining exactly this kind of scenario… it all began flooding into your head. Your hand slowly moved to his hair, not gripping hard yet, just resting there. Gojo pulled off with a wet pop, smirking up at you.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you about to blow already?”
You swallowed hard, voice shaky. “I… I need lube. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Gojo blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. “Holy shit, you’re actually polite. Top drawer, nightstand. Hurry up.” You quickly retrieved the bottle, hands still a little clumsy as you slicked yourself up generously, then poured more onto your fingers. Gojo watched with raised eyebrows, clearly entertained by how careful you were being.
You climbed onto the bed and gently pushed him onto his back. He spread his legs with that same arrogant grace, but there was a flicker of genuine surprise when you leaned down and pressed one slick finger against his entrance.
“Easy… just relax,” You muttered, more to yourself than to him, echoing advice you’d read a hundred times.
Gojo scoffed. “I’m not the virgin here- ah!.” His voice hitched as you carefully pushed the first finger inside. You moved slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort, curling and scissoring while your other hand stroked his cock to keep him relaxed.
By the time you added a second finger, then a third, Gojo’s smug comments had quieted into low breaths and occasional bitten-off groans. He was tight, hotter than you’d imagined, and the way he clenched around your fingers made your cock throb painfully.
When you finally lined yourself up, the fat head of your cock pressing against his slick hole, you paused again, breathing hard. “Gojo… tell me if it’s too much.”
He rolled his eyes, though his cheeks were already faintly pink. “Just fuck me already, nerd-”
You pushed in then cutting off any annoying back chat.
The first inch made both of you gasp. He was impossibly tight, even with all the lube and prep. Gojo’s head fell back against the pillow, mouth open in a silent “oh”. You froze, fighting every instinct to thrust forward, giving him time to adjust while your hands gripped his hips hard enough to leave marks.
“F-fuck… you’re actually huge,” He hissed through gritted teeth, the usual bravado cracking just a little. “Slow- go slow, shit…”
You nodded, voice strained. “Okay… okay.” You rocked forward inch by inch, watching his face the entire time, until you were finally buried to the hilt, balls-deep inside him. The heat, the pressure, the way his walls fluttered around every thick inch was overwhelming. For a long moment you stayed completely still, panting, trying not to cum on the spot from how good it felt.
Then you started moving.
At first your thrusts were careful, shallow, testing the rhythm. Gojo let out a shaky breath, still trying to keep his smirk. “That all you got? Come on, make it quick. I’ve got class tomor-”
You snapped your hips a little harder, finally finding the angle that made his breath stutter. The nervousness slowly melted away and your pace got faster till every thrust punched right against his prostate.
Gojo’s eyes widened. “Wait- ah, fuck- right there-”
You didn’t stop. You kept that building rhythm, one hand pressing his thigh higher, opening him up more, while the other wrapped around his leaking cock, stroking him firmly but never fast enough to let him cum.
“Ten minutes?” You murmured, voice gaining confidence with every thrust. “You’re gonna need way more than that, Satoru.”
His bratty replies started dissolving. The cocky frat president who had dragged you upstairs expecting an easy win was slowly turning into a moaning, trembling mess beneath you.
“Shit.. slow down- it’s too big, ahh, fuck!”
But you didn’t slow down instead you had more long, powerful strokes that dragged against his walls and nailed his prostate on every pass. Gojo’s hands fisted the sheets, his usual sharp tongue reduced to broken gasps and whimpers.
You leaned down, glasses still perched on your nose, and growled against his ear: “Look at you. The big bad Gojo Satoru, falling apart on a virgin’s cock. Bet none of those other guys ever stretched you this deep.”
Gojo let out a wrecked moan, legs shaking as you kept pounding into him, pace relentless now that you’d found your confidence. His cock twitched hard in your hand, leaking nonstop, but you kept edging him, bringing him right to the edge only to ease off just enough to keep him desperate.
By the time you flipped him onto his stomach- ass up, face buried in the pillows- he was barely coherent, drooling onto the sheets, legs trembling uncontrollably as you railed him from behind.
“P-please- fuck, I can’t- too much.. right there don’t stop- ah, shit, I’m gonna cum again-!” But you didn’t give him a second to recover nor to catch his breath. You gripped his narrow hips and slammed back inside in one smooth, deep thrust. The new angle let you bury even more of your thick cock into him.
Gojo’s muffled scream was immediate. His hands clawed at the sheets, body jolting forward from the force.“F-fuck ! Slow down, you fucking nerd!”
But you were past listening to his bratty demands now. The rhythm you’d found felt too good, too right. Your hips snapped forward again and again. The wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with the obscene squelch of lube and Gojo’s increasingly broken moans was absolutely pornographic.
You leaned over his back, one hand fisting his white hair to pull his head up just enough so you could growl into his ear: “Slow down? You were the one bragging you’d turn me into a mess in ten minutes. Look at you now, Satoru. Ass up like a desperate slut, creaming all over the sheets. ”
Gojo tried to spit out a reply, but it came out as a garbled whimper when you angled your thrusts to nail his prostate dead-on. His cock hung heavy and untouched between his legs, swinging with every brutal snap of your hips, leaking a steady stream of precum onto the bed.
You reached underneath him and wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him in time with your thrusts again. Gojo’s whole body shuddered violently.
His hole clenched like a vice around your thick cock as he came hard. Thick ropes of cum splattered the sheets beneath him. But you didn’t stop. You fucked him straight through it, hips never faltering, drawing out every pulse of his orgasm until he was sobbing into the pillow.
“Too much- too much, please- I can’t-!”
“You can,” You said hoarsely, the glasses you still wore fogged slightly from how hard you were breathing. “You’re going to take every inch until I’m done with you. This is what you wanted, right? The biggest virgin on campus fucking you senseless?”
You pulled almost all the way out, admiring how his hole gaped and fluttered around nothing for a split second, before slamming back in to the hilt. Gojo’s legs gave out completely. He collapsed flat onto his stomach, but you just followed him down, covering his body with yours and grinding deep, rolling your hips in dirty circles that kept constant pressure on his abused prostate.
You finally let yourself chase your own release. Your thrusts grew erratic, deeper, harder, until you buried yourself as far as you could go and came with a low groan, flooding his clenching hole with pulse after pulse of hot cum. Gojo let out a wrecked cry as he felt it, his own cock twitching weakly and dribbling one last pathetic spurt onto the soaked sheets.
Even after you finished, you stayed buried inside him, gently rocking your hips to ride out the aftershocks while Gojo trembled beneath you, completely spent. You had fucked him through orgasm after orgasm, turning the campus playboy into a sobbing, creaming, dumbed-out wreck who could only babble and beg for more.
You pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to the back of his neck, murmuring against his sweat-damp skin: “…Still think you’ll be able to walk to class tomorrow?”
Gojo could only whimper in response, too fucked-out to form words.
The next morning, the frat house was unusually quiet when Gojo finally limped downstairs around noon. Every step made him wince. His neck and chest were covered in dark hickeys and bite marks, and he moved like someone who’d been thoroughly wrecked.
His frat brothers were gathered in the kitchen, smirking the second they saw him. One of them whistled low. “Damn, Gojo. You look like you got hit by a truck. How’d it go with the library nerd? Did you turn him into a mess like you promised?”
Gojo froze at the bottom of the stairs, face flushing bright red. He tried to play it cool, running a hand through his messy white hair, but the way he carefully lowered himself onto a chair and then immediately hissed in pain gave everything away.
He buried his burning face in his arms on the table and muttered hoarsely, voice still raspy from all the moaning and screaming the night before:
“uh… why is sensei doing push-ups?” yuji asks, when he, nobara, and megumi enter the classroom.
satoru’s pushing himself up and down with one hand because, according to you, normal push-ups weren’t enough. but even then, he’s barely breaking a sweat. and he’s grinning, while you stand over him, watching with your arms crossed.
his uniform jacket is folded over the back of a chair, leaving him in his compression shirt, arm bulging and back tensing with each lift and fall of his body.
“i upset my-- hah beautiful, smart-- hah strong, gorgeous, perfect wife,” he pants, “punishment fits the crime.”
he really is right where he wants to be.
megumi doesn’t even bat an eye - this was the least unusual thing that you and satoru do. he slides into a chair with a sigh.
“how many does he have to do?”
“a hundred,” you say. satoru lifts his head to look up at you, mouth parted, little pink hearts in his eyes peering at you over the rim of his glasses. “he’s on seventy-two.”
his grin widens. “you know, this isn’t a challenge for me. why don’t you sit on my back, sweetheart?”
you crouch down in front of him and his eyes light up. “i know what you want, and you don’t deserve my touch.” you push his head down so he’s facing the floor again, and he grunts when you press extra weight, forcing his body down. “only twenty-three left. you can do it, my love.”
if his heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it definitely was now. especially with the saccharine tone you used at the end of your sentence.
god, was he down bad.
“… call us when you’re done,” megumi says, already out of the classroom.
silly thought inspired by this video HAHA can you tell he makes me a little a lot insane
the comment just slips out of nobara’s mouth like it’s nothing. “honestly, he’s like a dog.”
you blink. “who?”
she levels you with a bland look. “who do you think?”
she nods her head to yuji, who’s walking past with megumi. he’s all smiles and as if summoned by the universe itself, he looks up, eyes landing on you. his smile softens, he waves.
your heart does an embarrassing little somersault.
nobara leans in. “exhibit a.”
“i don’t see it,” you say weakly.
“if he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now. he likes you.”
“…no, he doesn’t,” you mumble unconvincingly.
“please. he’ll start bringing you sticks if you asked.”
you feel heat creep up your neck. “you’re exaggerating.”
nobara snorts. “am i? call him a good boy, see what happens.”
“i am not doing that,” you choke.
she just hums, already bored with your resistance. “suit yourself. you’re missing out on prime entertainment.”
so, naturally, later, when you and yuji are asked to pick up supplies from storage (extra training mats? you weren’t quite sure), nobara’s words linger in the back of your mind.
he grabs the boxes without complaint, and reaches over to add the ones you had in your arms to his pile.
“i got those,” he says, easy and bright.
“yuji, you’re already carrying like—five.”
he grins. “six isn’t that different.”
your chest does that stupid flip again, and: “thanks,” you say softly. “you’re such a good boy.”
silence.
yuji freezes mid-step, and you immediately regret everything.
“i didn’t mean—i mean, i did mean it, but not like—i just—” you start rambling, heat flooding your face.
he turns to look at you, and oh.
if nobara had been exaggerating before, she isn’t now.
his ears are bright red, eyes wide, and his smile, that usual easy grin of his, has gone all shy around the edges.
“i—what—” he stammers, voice cracking. “wha—did you just….”
you briefly consider faking your own death. “i just meant—”
his expression softens, deepens, turns warm and a little dazed. “say it again,” he blurts.
you blink. “what?”
“th-that,” he says, flustered. “what you just said.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “…good boy?”
if possible, he gets even redder.
“man,” he laughs nervously, ducking his head. “that—uh—felt really nice.”
your heart melts, reduced to a puddle on the floor.
“it wasn’t, like…weird?”
“no!” he blurts immediately. “i, uh—you can say it again. only if you want to! just—yeah.”
he looks at you with those soft brown eyes, that gentle smile.
nobara was right.
you smile despite it. “c’mon, good boy. let’s drop these off.”
you don’t miss the way his entire face lights up this time “right!” he says, grinning. “i got it!”
yeah. if he had a tail, it’d be knocking things over.
❝ and you will never choke the divine out of me. ❞
in which ∘ ∘ ∘ you lived a life so painfully ordinary that even you forgot you were living it — well, until you got laid off on a random tuesday and immediately died in the most stupid way imaginable, only to wake up in a world that shouldn't exist. you soon understand you've been reborn into jujutsu kaisen, one of your favorite manga, with a glowing system demanding you 'become the strongest of all time', you — who once considered a squeaky office chair your greatest adversary — quickly realize that being dropped into a death world of curses and sorcerers is not a dream come true… but a sentence you think you have zero chance of surviving.
⟡ pairing various jujutsu kaisen x OP!isekai!male reader
⟡ content isekai & transmigration, system, romance, boys in love, reader has a last name ( okada ) + a face claim ( denji ), implied / referenced suicide, age gap kinda but not really, fluff, angst, overpowered male reader, jealousy, a lots of swearing, crack, blood & gore, deaths + more.
⟡ wordcount 38,843
⟡ taglist OPEN ( let me know if you wanna be added! )
overview: emperor!sukuna who plays favourites with his concubines, finds out that someone else is taking care of the ones he’s neglecting. a late night stroll uncovers the culprit as one of his lower ranking mistresses and he’s fuming…and maybe a little jealous too?
cw: mdni, trueform sukuna, smut, emperor x concubine, voyeurism, self indulgent reader, some wlw action, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), riding his stomach mouth…mouth stomach idk, hands free orgasm (m), cowgirl, very light blood play, begging, light choking, 4.8k words
inspired by a drabble I lost half way through :(
Patience was a virtue.
And unfortunately, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t have any to speak of.
He expanded his territories indiscriminately, seizing neighbouring empires that took a little too long to agree to his terms at the drop of a hat. Men who refused surrender were reduced to bloody pulps, and rulers beheaded faster than they could open their mouths and ask for forgiveness for making him wait too long.
The only time Sukuna showed a morsel of patience was with his concubines, and even that was wearing thin lately.
It seemed there was an unexpected infestation of vermin in his palace. A skittery little mouse was roaming all over the place, and while it started off by taking small nips at his patience, it has now made itself at home. Overcome by gluttony, it overindulges and swallows his benevolence whole. And even when it has more than enough, it goes on to chip away at his most prized possession.
His concubines.
Contrary to popular belief, all of them came to him willingly, and they all knew that they were allowed to leave anytime they wanted. Some women came from impoverished kingdoms, where monarchs took most of their subjects’ money and prettily dressed up their corruption as ‘tax’. These women figured living in a palace with an abundance of food and clothing was better than a rickety shack that threatened to blow away with every thunderstorm. Others came from foreign lands, drawn in by whispers of an emperor in the east, who spoiled his women rotten with all his riches. A good handful even were royal and noblewomen who fled their kingdoms to escape forced marriages with men who were often four times their age.
Harem standing at a whopping five hundred and fifty-five women, Sukuna was self-aware enough to know that some wouldn’t be interested in him. While all came willingly, some seemed perfectly content with enjoying all the luxuries being his concubine offered without ever having to be in the same room as him. This hardly offended the emperor because, truth be told, he had favourites too, and it didn’t matter how much stamina he had, trying to get through five hundred women would’ve sent him to an early grave with his cheeks sunken in from exhaustion.
The only rule he had was that he expected all the concubines to be loyal. The irony of that rule wasn’t lost on him, but he was a possessive fucker, and he knew he would kill whoever touched what was his in the blink of an eye.
Or so he thought he would.
Fending off too many mosquitoes to count, Sukuna decided to take a late-night walk to clear his head. His physician told him it would help him clear his mind and relax, but after missing the pesky insects one too many times and smacking himself all over, he decides this isn’t for him.
When he finds himself stalking through the Rose Palace, he slows down to stare at the pristine white building with intricate red accents all over. This palace housed the lower-ranking concubines, some of whom he had only met once, if at all, and he realised it had been a while since his last visit. Knocking himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, Sukuna turns to walk back the way he came. Relaxation be damned, he couldn’t afford to deal with more of these mosquitoes and get lost too.
But his sharp ears pick up on a sound that has him freezing in his tracks. It is so late that the courts are empty and all the women are fast asleep in all their quarters. So, hearing a fervent curse whispered into the night, low and pleasure-filled, followed by the moan of a name, is shocking. Head tilting, Sukuna’s legs have him turning towards the sound instead of leaving, doubling back to a room just at the end of the row. The window is open, and through the slip between the curtains, he sees it.
The indisputable entanglement of two women pressed together in a messy web of soft legs and wandering hands. Their chests are plastered together so tightly that not even the thinnest sheet of paper could hope to wedge in between them. One woman is completely naked, and while she looks like a dreamy vision as moonlight falls over her skin and marks a white outline around her silhouette, Sukuna’s scarlet gaze shoots to the other woman instead. You.
Clad in a silky nightgown, your hair falls over your shoulders, curls and waves kissing along your collarbone almost as feverishly as the woman on your lap pecks at every sliver of skin she can get to. You have an arm looped around the woman’s slim waist, keeping her on your lap, and you watch her through low-lidded lashes while she grinds down on your fingers. She whispers a name, presumably yours, and Sukuna would have found it pretty if the sight before him didn’t fill him with unimaginable rage.
It seems he has just found the vermin that has been running amok.
The woman moans unintelligibly, and you capture her lips in a heated kiss before pulling back to whisper, “You can say it, Emika. No one’s gonna hear you.”
Oh, he begs to differ.
“Yours.” The woman, Emika, whimpers with her mouth gaping and hips picking up to buck into your hand faster.
“Hmm?”
“I—I’m yours.”
Emika’s words are uttered with her right on the precipice of an orgasm, and a better man would have left a long time ago, but unfortunately for her, that wasn’t Sukuna. So, with two long strides, he’s at the door, and a burly arm shoots up to land a heavy blow against the flimsy block of wood. There’s a shrill scream when the door swings open, and it bangs against the wall in a loud crackle, just shy of falling right off its hinges.
Sukuna steps over the threshold, and he watches as the brunette woman’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. She grabs a nearby blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her body with trembling hands before coming to kneel at his feet.
Or at least Sukuna thinks that’s what she does, because since he walked into the room, his blood-slick eyes haven’t left yours. You’re still sitting prettily on the bed. Arms propped out behind you and the thin strap of your nightgown falls off your shoulder, teasing the curve of your breast, as you meet his gaze head-on.
The longer he stares, the more the infuriatingly alluring smirk on your lips broadens. That look is enough for him to know who the guilty party is here.
“Your majesty.” Sukuna startles a little, as if he forgot the other woman was still there, and he finally glances down at her. At complete odds with you lounging on the bed, Emika’s head nearly touches the floor with how far she bows. “We weren’t expecting you.”
I bet. He mentally grouses.
“Am I interrupting something?” Sukuna sees the woman shudder, as if bearing the weight of the heavy baritone in his voice was too difficult a task.
“No! Not at all. We were just uh—” she allows herself to meet his stare for half a second before glancing away again. “Just talking.”
A snicker sounds from the four-poster bed, and Emika whips her head to the side, lips thinning like she’s ordering you to be quiet.
“Talking? With your clothes off?”
She turns back to the emperor, and her face is flushed bright red. “I erm…we—”
“Get out.”
Emika jerks like she has just been electrocuted, but stands up, nonetheless. She takes a few steps to the door, then, as if remembering something, turns towards you and softly calls out your name, as if urging you to follow her, but Sukuna merely shakes his head.
“No, just you.”
There’s no movement, and with a glance over his shoulder, he sees the young woman frozen on the spot with her lips pursed as if she might stand her ground, but with a warning flash of his ruby reds, she is hobbling out the door like a kicked dog. Sukuna’s eyes meet yours again, and you finally pull the gown down your legs to hide supple bits of skin that both sets of his traitorous eyes lapped away at.
“Your majesty.” You greet with a slight incline of your head, moving as if you were going to approach him, but choose to sit at the edge of the bed at the last minute. The lack of deference has him bristling.
“You aren’t bowing.”
“Weak knees. My humblest apologies.” You explain half-heartedly, and when you cross your legs, he once again has to wrench his eyes off their smooth expanse and back to your face. Sukuna definitely hadn’t met you yet. Sometimes he received brief descriptions of potential concubines, and he would wave them off before going back to his work. After all, it wasn’t like he would acquaint himself with every single one of them.
But perhaps if he had paid more attention during your arrival, he would’ve caught you before you had made yourself so…comfortable.
Remembering your name from Emika, he drawls it out, tests it on his tongue like it was an unfamiliar taste of exotic wine, and he was trying to decide whether he liked it or not. Being called by name makes you perk up a little.
“Do you mind explaining what I just walked in on?” You don’t answer right away, and it makes the last bit of his patience dry up, words now coming out as a low growl. “I asked you a question.”
“I heard you.” While he’s barely keeping his temper at bay, you’re completely calm and play with the threads that came loose from the bedding, as if they were more interesting than the entire conversation was. More interesting than he was. “I was just wondering how much detail you would like me to go into.”
The side of Sukuna’s face scrunches, and at his sides, all twenty fingers almost follow the movement, nearly balling into fists. But with how calm you were, he decides he could not be the one to break and lose his temper first. He takes a step closer to you, and finally, he sees the corners of your eyes crinkle as you narrow your eyes at him the tiniest bit.
So, you did have some self-preservation.
“When I first heard the rumours that someone was bedding my women, I thought it was one of my soldiers or maybe a cook. Hell, it could have even been a eunuch who had somehow evaded castration, but it’s you, isn’t it?” Your back straightens when he stops a few paces away from you, and yes, he knew for sure that it was you. “What makes you think you can take my women?”
Your lips purse for a moment, eyes shifting to and fro as you look for a good answer to give him. Then…“May I speak freely for the remainder of this conversation, your majesty?”
That elicits a sharp cackle from him.
“Why bother asking? You never needed my permission to do anything before.” You only arched an eyebrow at him, as if he were a toddler whose tantrum you were waiting out. “Speak.”
Your hair bounced as you readjusted on the bed, and without even knowing you, Sukuna could tell from the condescending gleam in your eyes that he wasn’t going to like what you were about to say.
“You have half a thousand concubines and only pay attention to a select few, twenty on a good day. It’s hardly fair that the rest of us are expected to stay celibate just because you can’t keep up.”
What.
“Excuse me?”
“The way I see it,” you continue as if he hasn’t spoken. “You should be thanking me for keeping the ladies entertained in your stead.”
“Thank you?” he splutters with his voice the highest it’s ever been.
“You’re welcome.”
Something between a laugh and a scoff comes from his chest, half incensed, half disbelieving as he turns his back to you. Hands go to rake over his face, passing over the hardened casing that covered the right side. A moment passed as he gathered himself, then, when he was sure he wouldn’t throttle you, he turned around again.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t get to come into my house, break my one rule, then tell me I should be thanking you for it.” His words wipe the shit-eating grin off your face. “All the women know that if they’re unhappy, they can leave at anytime. I’m not forcing anyone to be here!”
“You know full well that most of them can’t go back to the conditions they lived in before!” Had anyone else raised their voice at him, they would have been cut down where they stood. But Sukuna is so thrilled that you are showing an emotion other than cool indifference, he barely pays it any mind. You stand from the bed and approach him with agility that tells him you in fact, did not have weak knees.
“You live in my house. In my kingdom,” eyes red hot as a blazing sun, sneered down at you as if they were promising to burn you to a crisp. “You follow my rules.”
Glossy lips purse as you stare up at him for a few long moments. Then that carefully blank curtain falls over your face again. “Fine. Then I should like to leave.”
You turned towards your vanity, and Sukuna only saw the piece of paper lying on it now. “I was going to hand in my resignation letter later this week, but seeing that you’re already here—”
“No.”
Feet faltering, you pause, and your shoulders work when you take a deep breath before turning around.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I won’t sign it.” Sharp canines glint as he gives you a sardonic smile.
“But you just said we could leave whenever we wanted.”
“I said my concubines could leave whenever they wanted.” The distance between the two of you closes again, and he isn’t sure who stepped closer this time. “You are a thief.”
“A thief?” You sputtered with your brows raised so high they nearly touched your hairline. “With all due respect your majesty, you have a nasty habit of making these women sound like possessions rather than people.”
“They’re mine.” He says, not even denying your comment, and when you scowl, he has to crane his head down so he can get in your face. “You think you can come into my house, eat my food, wear clothes bought with my money,” he lifts his hand, and a sharp nail catches the strap of your nightgown where it hangs off your shoulder, and tugs it up to its rightful place. “Fuck my women, and I’ll just let you leave?”
You glance down at his hand hovering over the curve of your shoulder, his nails so long they could puncture through skin with ease if he wanted to.
“You can’t keep me here against my will.”
The boisterous laughter that echoes through the room almost makes you flinch.
“Who’s gonna stop me, huh? You?”
Your lips tremble, and he preens, thinking he has finally gotten through to you. But instead of the ugly cry he was expecting, a smile curls your lips, and you take a step forward, so close he can smell the scent of jasmine and something more edible on your skin.
“Well in that case, Lady Kyomi has been staring at me a little too closely these days. If I’m staying, I might as well pay her a visit.”
Sukuna didn’t make a habit of harming people who were a lot frailer than him. He liked the dizzying thrill of heading right into battle with combatants who were on par with him. And swords, claws and teeth would meet in a frenzy of blood and gore.
This meant that he never lifted a hand against a woman. That is, until today, when a hand closes around your neck and pushes you back until you’re pressed against a nearby wall.
Your breath hitches.
He isn’t choking you, not really, but the threat of it, as his massive hand spans over your throat with ease and sharp nails drag along your skin, is definitely there. Sukuna could handle a lot of things, but you threatening to go after the very woman in the running to be his empress consort was out of bounds.
“Do you wish to see me lose my temper?”
His voice was scarily low now, and the tip of his nose brushed against yours.
“You mean you haven’t already?”
“Don’t test me, little girl.” Your nose scrunches, obviously not a fan of that nickname. With his grip on your neck, he tips your head up higher so you can look at him. “You are to stay away from Kyomi, Emika and all the other concubines you have bedded. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” You say that a little too quickly for it to be convincing, and when you move into his hand around your neck instead of cowering away, he knows you aren’t going to give in so easily. “But just between us, your majesty, tell me which upsets you more, the fact that I fucked them or that I didn’t fuck you?”
A beat passes before Sukuna laughs, long and loud right in your face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Your cock is pressing into my thighs.” You mused, and his shoulders tensed.
Truth be told, he has been hard since he eavesdropped on you and Emika earlier. And as much as it pained him to admit it, the longer he spoke to you, the higher the tent beneath his robes pitched itself.
“You know,” A manicured nail skirts over the opening of his robes over his bare chest and his cock twitches. “If you had just asked, I would have considered letting you join.”
Your sheer audacity has him at a loss once more.
“I wouldn’t need your permission.” He replies through clenched teeth and tries to hold his breath so your perfume wouldn’t cloud his mind. This is probably how you got people wrapped around your finger. He thought. A teasing touch, the coaxing pull of your sweetened scent and most of all your soft, taunting voice, and they would be trapped before they even knew it.
“Oh, but you’d want it.”
Sukuna’s hand flexes around your throat, and a beat passes with him just panting inches from your mouth. Whenever the emperor couldn’t purge his temper through bloodshed, he often turned to fucking. And it seems he chose the latter as he tugs you forward and seals his lips over yours.
You flinch at the force of the kiss, breath coming out as a soundless huff like he just knocked the air right out of your lungs. Your hands come up to rest on his thick biceps, but you don’t push him away just yet.
Sukuna’s tongue traces over the plush seam of your lips before it plunges into your mouth, and he stiffens at the taste that hits him. Minty freshness, remnants of hibiscus tea and a little fainter, the unmistakable tartness of pussy. A fang nips at your soft lip, and he relishes the yelping sound you make as he greedily laps at a bead of blood that flows out. He wrenches himself away from you, eyes burning as he meets your gaze.
“You put your mouth on her?” He seethes, and you only peer up at him through long lashes, a self-assured smile firmly in place on your lips. “You are infuriating.”
Hands grasp your waist and pull you off the wall and up against him. And as he leads you to the bed, your feet never touch the floor again.
Belatedly, you start to wonder whether you have bitten off more than you can chew.
The bedsprings whine under the weight of the burly emperor lying on them. The man is made of pure muscle, and the inky black markings that cut lines down his tanned skin bulge with every movement he makes. Four hulking arms lay at his sides, flexing impatiently as he tries to keep himself from pulling you onto him. And while he waits, two sets of eyes, four total, glare at you through his coral hair and obsessively follow you the way a predator would stalk its next meal.
“Since you enjoy eating pussy so much, let’s see how you like being on the receiving end.” Sukuna had said a while ago, and while your heart thrashed excitedly in your chest at the prospect of sitting on his mouth, you soon realised he wasn’t talking about the one on his face.
You could only gawk as washboard abs quivered, then gaped, giving way to a large mouth that cut through the centre of his stomach. The mouth gave you a mischievous grin, canines razor sharp, before it licked its lips in anticipation. Between that and the monstrosities, yes, monstrosities plural, that lay heavy between his legs, you aren’t sure where to look.
“What are you waiting for?”
Your eyes bounce up to his face, and you shift a little on the foot of the bed before moving on all fours to crawl towards him. A crimson gaze burns a trail through you when you go to his side instead of immediately straddling him. You tuck your hair behind your ear before you lean down and kiss him. Sukuna’s arms snake under you, and you gasp when he forcibly pulls you on top of him. Settling on his lap, he makes sure the kiss never breaks as he sucks your lip into his mouth, chasing the taste of iron he tasted earlier.
A tongue licks a stripe up your lips, and you feel a heated breath blow against your stomach before his other mouth lolls out against your skin. You shiver above him, hands braced beside his head and almost buckling from the sensation pooling low in your belly.
“Sit on it.” Sukuna commands, breath hot against your lips, but you don’t move. A low groan sounds when you pepper a soft kiss on his mouth, and he pulls back to ask again.
“Let me taste you.”
Your dark eyes clash with his, and he blurts the word out before he can stop himself. The word he has never had to say to anyone before.
“Please.”
An emperor begging a concubine? No one would believe you if you told them. But you oblige. Straightening on his lap and moving forward until you’re hovering just above the large mouth that literally drools with your cunt so close to it.
Hands grope at your hips, then lower you slowly.
Whereas Sukuna is taking his time, his mouth didn’t seem to get the memo because a disarming kiss is delivered to your clit before a fat tongue lolls out and swipes a lavish lick up your slit. You forward jerk, and strong hands clamp around your form tighter, holding then pushing you further onto the relentless mouth that laps away at every drop of your slick.
“Oh.” You huff out with a little shock colouring your tone.
You look at Sukuna’s face again, and you see his lips gape as a light glaze covers his eyes, almost like he can taste you on both mouths. Your hips roll against his stomach when his thick tongue thrusts into your cunt, and moan slips through as your gummy walls clamp around the muscle.
“Look who can’t keep up now,” Sukuna says, referring to when you told him that you were doing him a favour by picking up the slack of tending to his ‘neglected’ concubines.
Your hips slow, trying to lift off his mouth to give yourself a break, but he doesn’t let you, of course. And you’re not sure what possesses you, but your fingers, the same ones you had inside Emika a few minutes ago, go to his lips and slot into his mouth.
“I keep up well enough.” You know he tastes her essence from the way his red pinpoint eyes narrow to slits, and you smile at him. “Sweet, isn’t it?”
Teeth bite down on your fingers, and you mewl at the ghost of pain that follows. His fangs pricked your skin again, and he sucks the digits into his mouth with a heavy groan. You feel his body move beneath you, and when you glance over your shoulder to see his hips rutting into the air and both his cocks leaking with precum, your tongue instinctively wets your lips.
Maybe one day you’d be brave enough to take him in your mouth too…wait, why were you thinking about that as if you’d let this happen again?
Sukuna is drooling around your fingers and on your cunt as he alternates between diving into its tight hole and sucking your clit into his mouth. When you feel his hips shudder pathetically under you, followed by the warm spray of cum against the small of your back, you almost want to make fun of him for cumming untouched. But you can’t because you’re not that far behind either. A few more shaky rolls of your hips, and he keeps you plastered to him as you tremble with your release too.
You’re still shaking when Sukuna lifts you to move you further down his muscular body. He angles the pink tip of one of his lengths with your cunt, and you feel the other bop against your ass needily. Sliding down the thick girth is no easy feat, and he doesn’t rush you, not even when his hips beg him to thrust up and bottom out.
Moans fill the room when you sink all the way down and your head tips back. The mouth on his stomach seals itself shut, then quickly reappears near his pelvis. You’re about to tell him how uncanny it is that he keeps making it move, but your words fall short when it flicks its tongue over your hypersensitive clit.
There are too many hands to count roaming over your body. A pair pawing at your ass and urging you to bounce on him faster, and another set squeezes your tits and rolls the hardened buds of your nipples between his fingers.
Sukuna stares up at you in awe as you ride him. The light above your head forms a halo around your hair, making you look otherworldly and the sounds you make have him believing that you were some sort of fallen angel who has come to drag him to the depths of hell in condemnation for all his sins.
Your hand goes behind you, curling around his neglected cock, and he makes a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of. Your walls squeeze unbelievably tight around him as you cum not too long after him, and his hands band around you before pulling you down so he can kiss you again.
It takes a while for the two of you to stop shuddering, and only when your lips are utterly kiss-bitten and too numb to continue, do you slide off him and land at his side with a huff.
Sukuna is still trying to catch his breath when a thought clicks into place. He was more than happy to lock you in the deepest dungeon he had so you’d never see the light of day again, but after all that, he could think of something better.
Better for him, that is.
He rises from the bed and starts to put his robes back on. “You’ll be moved into the Ruby Palace tomorrow.”
He hears you sit up, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know your eyes are probably bulging out their sockets.
“What?!”
Your exclamation makes a pleased smile curl his lips.
While the Rose, Jade and Emerald palaces housed all the concubines, the Ruby Palace has always been vacant.
Because it was reserved for whoever Sukuna would pick as his empress.
With an about turn, he meets your stare and offers you a mocking smile. “You’ve touched what’s mine and believe me, I’ve killed men for less. So, be happy that your emperor is generous enough to award your insubordination with a title instead of an execution, hm?”
Your mouth opens, but he’s already pulling the door open. There’s a heavy thud of something hitting the wood and a string of colourful expletives follow him as he walks back to his quarters with a spring in his step.
Hm, maybe late-night walks really were relaxing.
a/n: whew my family would 100% request an exorcism if they ever saw this. anyway, thank you to @rambld for being my test subject, love you like jellytots baybay
Summary: After a fight puts Simon Riley on a strict touch ban, he’s left yearning, couch-bound, and relentlessly teased by Soap and Price. But when apologies turn into actions,and one steamy, accidental reunion outside the bathroom, Simon finally proves he’s learned his lesson. Karma comes fast, love comes harder, and the couch finds new victims.
Simon Riley learned the hard way that silence could be louder than shouting.
The argument had started quietly, which should’ve been his first warning.
You were in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in one of his shirts, fabric pulled snug over your soft stomach and chest, thighs grounding you like you were rooted there. Your arms were crossed, not defensive,measured. Controlled.
You’d asked about leave.
Casual. Almost hopeful.
“I volunteered for another rotation,” he said.
The air shifted.
You turned slowly, eyes lifting to his like you were giving him one last chance to correct himself.
“You volunteered,” you repeated.
“It’s my job,” he answered, tired, already bracing.
That sigh he let out next was the nail in the coffin.
“I’m not asking you to quit,” you said quietly. “I’m asking you to talk to me before you decide our life for us.”
When he reached for you, you stepped back.
“No.”
One word. Final.
“You don’t get access to my body when you won’t give me communication,” you said. “Until you fix that, don’t touch me.”
The ban was immediate.
Absolute.
---
The couch became his penance.
Soap clocked it instantly.
Price found it hilarious.
The group chat turned cruel fast, pictures sent late at night, captions rubbing salt in the wound.
Warm tonight.
Missus says hi.
How’s the couch treating you, Riley?
Simon muted the chat and stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, body aching in ways that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with loss.
Because you were still there.
Still moving through the house with that quiet confidence. Still beautiful. Still soft and real and completely off-limits.
The worst part was the almosts.
The way you brushed past him in the hallway, hip grazing his thigh like an accident that lingered. The way your scent stayed behind after you left a room. Once,just once,he rubbed your shoulders while you read.
You stiffened instantly.
“Simon.”
He pulled back like he’d been burned.
That night, he didn’t sleep.
---
Desperation made him meticulous.
The day you went into work, Simon called in sick and cleaned the house top to bottom. Laundry folded exactly how you liked it. Dinner made,the one you only ever wanted after exhausting days.
When you came home and saw it, you paused.
Surprise flickered. Temptation.
“This is… nice,” you said.
“I know it’s not enough—”
“It’s also just being an adult,” you replied gently.
That hurt more than yelling ever could.
You went upstairs to wind down, leaving him alone with a clean house and the weight of knowing you were right.
---
You were in bed later, lights low, scrolling on your phone, wrapped in one of his hoodies. Hair loose. Guard down in that quiet way you only were when you thought you were alone.
You heard the shower shut off.
Didn’t think much of it.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Simon stepped out slowly, towel slung low around his waist, water still clinging to his skin. His hair was damp, darker, curling slightly at the ends. And the scent—
Your favorite body wash.
The one he only ever used when he came home from deployment. When he wanted to smell like something familiar. Like you.
He froze when he saw you awake.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
His eyes dragged over you,curled on the bed, legs bare beneath the hoodie, chest rising slow and steady. Your gaze followed the line of his shoulders, the water tracing down his chest, disappearing beneath the towel.
The tension snapped tight between you.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said quietly.
“Wasn’t,” you replied, voice soft, careful.
He didn’t move closer.
Didn’t touch you.
Just stood there, breathing you in like restraint was costing him everything.
“I’m sorry,” he said. No excuses. No defensiveness. “I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve listened. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t part of my decisions.”
You set your phone aside.
“You did,” you said. Honest. Vulnerable.
He nodded once, jaw tight. “I don’t want a life where I do that to you again.”
Silence stretched.
Then you moved.
Crossed the bed, stood, and pressed into him, arms wrapping around his torso before he could second-guess himself. He caught you instantly, hands firm on your back like muscle memory kicking in.
You buried your face into his neck.
“Don’t make me have to put you on a ban again,” you murmured.
“Never,” he said, voice rough. “I swear.”
---
You fell asleep tangled together like the last two weeks hadn’t existed.
Simon stayed awake long enough to take a picture, just one.
His head tucked between your chest, your chin resting on his hair, both of you peaceful and warm.
He sent it to the group chat.
Ban lifted. Karma’s a bitch. Enjoy the couch, lads.
The replies came fast.
Because karma had struck.
Soap’s girlfriend had seen the smug midnight texts and calmly taken his pillow, telling him to “go enjoy the lounge since he loved talking about it so much.”
Price’s wife had read the entire thread while he was in the shower and pointed silently toward the door when he came back.
Soap: This is cruel and unusual punishment.
Price: I trained you better than this.
Simon silenced the phone, tightened his hold on you, and smiled.
Didn’t hate them – he just didn’t get them. Didn’t get how people melted over something that screamed, drooled, and stared at him like he was a nightmare in human form.
Kids always screamed when they saw him in his balaclava.
He took it off?
Worse. Way worse.
That was why he never showed at team dinners. Soap’s kids, Price’s kids – he didn’t want to be the reason they cried. Didn’t want to see that look again.
He’d seen it once before.
A kid on the street had stared at him too long and blurted out,“Mum, he’s uglier than a monster.”
The woman had grabbed her son and practically run, fear all over her face.
Ugly. Monster. Scarred. Scary.
So when it came to his baby girl, Simon was fucking terrified.
“No,” he said flatly the first time you suggested it.
You’d barely finished your sentence.
“She’s our daughter, Si,” you said gently. “She should see your face. Her father's face.”
“She doesn’t need to,” he snapped. “Mask stays on. End of it.”
He’d sit with her for hours, mask firmly in place, huge gloved hands impossibly gentle as he played with her. And she adored him —giggled every time he spoke, squealed when he leaned close.
“Yeah, you’re proper hard, you are,” he muttered one afternoon, bouncing her lightly. “Big strong girl. Gonna knock yer old man out one day, eh?”
She babbled back, fingers grabbing his crooked nose through the fabric.
You smiled from the doorway.“She thinks you’re pretty, Si.”
He scoffed. “Don’t talk shite.”
“I’m serious.”
“She’s a baby,” he muttered. “Give it a second. Soon as this comes off, she’ll scream her head off. I’m not doin’ that to her.”
Days later.
Steam still clung to the bathroom door when Simon stepped out, towel slung low around his hips, one hand scrubbing roughly at his face. Bare. Exposed.
You froze.
Then grinned.
“Oh no,” he muttered immediately. “Don’t you dare.”
Too late.
You stepped right into his path, your baby balanced on your hip. “Hi, love.”
“Absolutely not,” Simon barked, panic sharp in his voice. “Now’s not the time. Move.”
“Simon.”
He turned toward the wall, shoulders tight. “I said no. I’m not lettin’ her see me like this.”
“She deserves—”
“She’ll cry,” he snapped. “And I’m not havin’ that. So fuck off and let me get dressed.”
You reached for the towel. He tightened it instantly. It was heartbreaking seeing such a well trained soldier and more than capable man hiding himself out of fear of hurting his baby girl. Making her scared of him...
“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t push me.”
Silence stretched - thick, painful. You didn't like this side of him. The side that hates himself so much he ends up hurting you.
Then–
The loudest giggle you’d ever heard.
Your baby shrieked with laughter, burying her face into your neck, shaking with it.
Simon froze.
“What…?” He turned slowly, confused.
She peeked out.
And saw him.
Her smile vanished for half a second–tiny brow furrowing, eyes studying his scars, his broken nose, the harsh lines of his face. Who was this man...huh...
Simon swallowed hard. “Sweetheart…” His voice cracked despite himself. “It’s me.”
That was it.
Recognition hit her like lightning. Her whole face lit up, mouth opening in a toothless grin as she squealed and reached for him.
“No! wait!!” Simon protested, panic flaring again.
You didn’t hesitate. You placed her straight into his arms.
He went completely still. Every muscle locked. Braced for rejection. A scream, a cry.
Instead—
She laughed harder.
Her chubby hands smacked against his scarred cheeks, fingers exploring every line, tugging his nose like it was her favourite toy. She pressed her mouth to his cheek and slobbered happily.
Simon let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Oh...fuck,” he whispered.
Tears welled, spilling freely as he smiled, really smiled, for the first time in years.
You crossed your arms, smug through your own tears.“Told you.”
She babbled at him, patting his face like she was soothing him now. Little chubby hands awkwardly patting his cheeks and eyes.
He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in like she was air. Then he pulled you into his side with one arm.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured thickly. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Thought I’d scare her. Thought I weren’t good enough.”
You leaned into him. “She loves you, Simon. Mask or no mask.”
He spends days afterwards apologizing, doing everything he could to make you happy. But you already were the happiest seeing your daughter shriek with laughter as her daddy makes funny faces to feed her.
And begs you to make little skull patterned mittens for her. To match of course.
Simon Riley’s baby loved him more without the mask.
She grew up thinking she looked just like her dad. And that made her proud.
MASTERLIST 🍎
A/N: Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Luv u all 🍓
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