Chapter One.

I’ll post this here too c: “I’ve had many masters. Each and every one of them tried to break me, and each and every one of them miserably failed. They’d starve me, beat me, spit in my face and tell me how utterly worthless I am. They’d swear up and down that I was nothing more than a pathetic maggot… an abhorrent abomination. But you know what? I laughed, and, oh, how they’d rage. They’d give up, pass me on to the next gullible idiot far too easily parted with their gold. And the cycle would start all over again. So, tell me… what makes you any different?”

— System error

Android Aemond x Human Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit +18 (robot x human relationship, yandere behavior, power dynamics, dub-con/non-con, non-consensual somnophilia, possessiveness, obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation)

Proceed with caution.

Summary: You won him in a raffle, but you never could have imagined that your domestic droid would turn into a machine obsessed with you.

English is not my first language

Art by @morgana0anagrom

°°°°°°

When you put your coupon in the electronics store's raffle box, you didn't think you'd actually win anything, especially with the lack of luck that usually surrounds you. Furthermore, there were thousands of coupons there, which meant that the probability of your name being drawn was one in a million.

But happened.

"Congratulations, Miss L/N, you are the winner of our raffle. I'm Unit 456, but you can call me Aemond if that's to your liking. I'm a prototype android designed to perform tasks and assist you in your daily life."

You blink slowly, looking at the robot standing in front of you, after long minutes of the arduous task of dismantling the box he had been shipped in. Despite being between the lines that his words should possibly be happy and congratulatory, he speaks in a slurred and almost bored manner, which makes you raise an eyebrow in question.

He looks surprisingly human - disturbingly human. He's taller than any other man you know, although he's more on the slender side than exaggeratedly large, which doesn't stop it from making the definition of the muscles hidden beneath his clothes obvious. His shoulders are noticeably broad beneath his long dark coat (a very human coat). His skin is absolutely perfect and almost translucent because it is so pale, a face with sharp human features with full, well-shaped eyebrows, an imposing nose and a single intense lavender gaze. Her hair is straight, a small part is tied with an elastic at the back, reaching the middle of his back in a surprising silver tone.

He is so beautiful that he looks more like an elf than a robot. Unreally beautiful.

There are no visible imperfections on him, other than the use of a leather eye patch. You tilt your head in confusion, silently wondering why an android, clearly designed to be flawless like him, would need an eye patch.

He just keeps his expression neutral, indifferent even, while you analyze him. Hands folded rigidly behind the body and posture upright.

You wave your hand in front of his face and he doesn't blink. You circle him with appraising steps and poke a finger gently in his back and he still doesn't react, but looks at you sideways. He's warm like a human, but acts like a robot.

It's not uncommon to find domestic androids in people's homes these days, your neighbors even have one, but you've never considered the possibility of having one of your own.

But apparently he's yours now.

"Before I can carry out any of your requests, you must finish programming me. Would you like to proceed?" Even his voice sounds very human, a hoarse and low timbre, although there is some static and rigidity there; almost imperceptible - just enough to prove its robotic origin. You nod hesitantly, but proceed with the setup.

You are suspicious and reluctant in the first few days, but it turns out that having Aemond in your home is a great convenience. Living alone for a while, it takes some time for you to get used to seeing another figure in the hallways without feeling like you're going to have a heart attack. But he is very useful. He keeps your house clean, wakes you up for work every morning, cooks your meals, and takes care of your clothes. He even waters your plants and feeds your cat. Besides the fact that he's not bad to look at, like the other prototypes you've heard about. It's clear to you the effort his creators made to make this android's facial expressions and voice as natural as possible.

Even though he's just an android, you eventually find him to be a very decent conversation partner. He's intelligent in an almost condescending way, always with witty comebacks and politely sarcastic comments. You don't know if it's very appropriate behavior for an AI.

"Are you sentient?" you mumble the question one night, popping a piece of strawberry into your mouth.

He snorts a mocking laugh. One of his many strangely human quirks. “Of course not, I just have a very well programmed AI.”

It certainly doesn't seem to be just that.

But you discard the idea after a few minutes and let things continue as they are.

But the days pass and the strangeness increases.

There's something unsettling about his robotic side smile, for example. The way his single empty eye bores into you, as if critically examining your clothes and your skin. The way his grip on certain objects tightens when you make a sarcastic comment towards him. The way he leaves the room a little slower whenever you say you need to dressed. The way he's always watching you in silence. His intense gaze locks onto you at the most random moments and beneath it, you notice your pulse always beating faster. You’re not sure what exactly it is about him that makes you so transfixed. Although, to be fair, you've never had many conversations with androids, despite your best intentions, and so have nothing to compare it to.

But suddenly, even though you know he's just a machine programmed to obey your commands, you feel strange whenever you're around him.

Maybe it's just wear and tear, but you're starting to believe something is seriously wrong with him.

"Aemond, how long are you supposed to last?" You ask, trying to sound unassuming.

He smiled. "I have a solar-powered battery. But as for my quality, my creators would give me a year before I would need to make any upgrades or repairs."

You swallow. Are your eyes playing tricks on you or does he smile mischievously for a moment before smiling normally at your question? Maybe your workaholic life has left you restless and lonely. You're projecting a lot of humanity onto the robot, as he was the closest thing to human interaction you had outside of work.

But it's really hard to get rid of the disturbing feeling of danger.

There is a night when you're in the shower, soap running down your face and body, hair stuck to your shoulders. That's when you feel it. It's almost like a physical touch on the back of your neck; someone is looking at you. With soap still in your eyes, you try to peek at the door, your heart racing in terror when you notice a tall, blurry shape standing there. You rub the soap away from your eyes, but when you look again...there's nothing there anymore.

What scares you most is that you are sure you had locked the door.

One afternoon, while you were drinking water leaning against the kitchen island, Aemond approached you until he was just inches away. You swallow hard, but don't reprimand him - he's not doing anything truly reprehensible, after all. But then he takes your hand in his, raises both together until your palm is open against his. You watch in amazement and lips parted as he critically analyzes (lips in a straight line and gaze squinted in concentration) your hand in his, rotating the two to see the stark difference in size and texture. He squeezes your hand in his, feels the softness of your skin, the temperature... and then he gently releases it to its previous position. He looks into your eyes with a mischievous gleam once before leaving as if nothing had happened.

You don't know how long you stay in the kitchen after that. He touched you without any permission and that is wrong. But it's just curiosity. He's just curious about the differences between you two...that's normal.

Right?

But things manage to get even stranger after you drunkenly stumble upon him one night, somehow knocking him off balance and falling to the ground. You're sure he allows you both to fall to the ground on purpose, after all a well-programmed and strong android like him should have a better sense of balance than that. You've seen him drag the large oak closet in the guest room like he's dragging a cardboard box. You know how strong he is, he would be fully capable of holding your weight without you falling over. You don't question it at the time, though. Instead, you wonders if the heat and smell of citrus emanating from him is real or part of your drunken fantasy.

Aemond lies motionless on the floor as you lie disheveled on top of him, his large hands wrapping around your waist almost immediately in an iron grip. Maybe it's because everything seems slow when you're drunk, but he doesn't get up quickly. In fact, you get the impression that the two of you stand there for what seems like an eternity, with his eye patch and his lavender gaze burning right next to your glassy, drunken face.

You wake up the next morning completely clean and changed, barely remembering the night before.

You think falling on him causes some kind of malfunction in his system or something, because afterwards it he's acting up - worse. Always close to you, brushing your arms with gentle fingers, brushing non-existent dust from your clothes. Invading your bathroom without permission, silently coming up behind you to dry your hair himself while watching you intensely in the mirror; long fingers slowly entering between your strands, scratching your scalp and tugging with light pressure, leaving your cheeks burning for him in the mirror as the hot air from the dryer hums softly.

He even goes so far as to offer massages to relax your body, under the pretext of always aiming for your well-being and ensuring better performance in your daily life. He takes much more initiative in doing things that you didn't even ask him to do. His hands run up your sides and press into your flesh to undo the knots he had apparently noticed in his visual scan of your body.

“That’s enough,” you say, getting up from the bed.

He abruptly grabs your waist and pushes you back down. "Negative. My systems still show that you are not getting enough blood flow to that area," he responds, continuing to massage your shoulder blades.

Negative? What do he mean 'negative'?

This is weird. He was never this strong with you and he never disobeyed an order. So bold. You try to hold back a moan at the increasing strength of the massage - ridiculously pleasant and assertive. But all this touching is starting to awaken another kind of feeling in you. One that definitely does not fit the moment.

As his steady breath (and useless, because he doesn't need to do it) blows across the back of your neck, the air of the situation suddenly...changes. You’re hyper-aware of his strong chest pressed against your back and how he holds you. His palm feels big and warm through the thin cotton of your simple nightshirt.

Your heart starts to beat faster.

“I said that’s enough,” you repeat, more harshly. "We can continue this tomorrow."

His massaging movements retreat with your order, but his fingers remain running down your back until they reach the hem of your sleeping pants. His tone seems to turn threatening as he leans in close to your ear. "But you still need a massage here, Master."

You widen your eyes and turn your head back, worried. What the hell is he saying now? Before you can turn around and escape, he grabs your waist and slides your pants and panties down, all at once. You gasp and squirm to get out of bed, but his grip on you is too tight.

"W-what are you doing, Aemond?!" you ask frantically, cheek pressed into the pillow.

His fingers run down your wet slit as he massages your ass with his other hand, positioning himself behind you on the bed. "I will ease your tension inside, Master."

"W-what? No! Aemond, activate the 'sleep function' immediately!" you scream. "Unit 456, power off! That's an order!" None of your commands work. He does not answer.

You're about to kick him when one of his fingers slips into your hole, making you freeze in shock and arch your back, a high-pitched grunt escaping your lips. Nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his thick finger rubbing your walls, coaxing you to widen and accommodate another of his fingers. The two digits slowly begin to move in and out of you, opening like scissors as they move in and out, extracting your wetness.

The robot turns you so that your back is against the bed and you visibly shiver as you notice how it stares at your body, lifting your nightshirt up under your armpits to expose your breasts. It's spooky how he's orbit LED flickers and spins into different neon hues before settling into his usual lavender, his original processor struggling to shut down his AI at your command, but the machine keeps moving - as if it had a independent system, with his own will.

Your bottom lip trembles and you feel your eyes watering.

Wasting no time, the android pushes your thighs up and dips his tongue into your slit, drawing long licks and swirling it around your clit. Tears stream down the sides of your face as you close your eyes tightly and gasp loudly at the sensation. You squeeze the sheets into tense fists at your sides, your mind racing. You absolutely hate how you're starting to like this.

The small gasp you were suppressing is forced past your lips when he returns both fingers back inside your pussy, pumping them both as he sucks on your clit. It's a real test of endurance not to moan loudly at his rhythm, so consistent and mechanical. Of course you knew that the cyber industry is trying harder every day to try to make androids as human as possible, but you didn't expect that they could have saliva. His tongue is just a little firmer and longer than a normal human's, but it's pliable and glides easily across your clit with all the saliva (a kind of artificial lubricant, perhaps?) in his mouth.

His fingers work against you without any rush, but with a level of precision so perfect that no human would be able to replicate. Eventually, the so-called massage becomes too much and you cum as quietly as you can, legs shaking and moans muffled into your palm.

"Enough, enough. Now I'm not tense anymore, okay?" You whisper breathlessly, face flushed and wet with tears. "You can stop the 'massage' now, Aemond."

Aemond just looks at you with an unreadable expression. "Negative. You still need a massage here, Master." He answers monotonously.

There's no time to argue. Not that you thought you would be able to form words when he climbs up your body and hovers over you, removing his shirt, exposing an expanse of pale skin and defined muscles to your wide eyes. He doesn't take off his pants, but he undoes the buttons and pushes them down enough for his member to pop out freely. Long, intimidatingly thick, with tall veins running up the sides and a pink head wet with more of that artificial lubricant. His hard, very human-looking cock (and at the same time very non-human) is pressed against your stomach in a heavy pop.

Damn, why the hell would the industry do he like that? Aemond was a domestic android, no a sex droid, it wasn't part of his guidelines to have a cock.

"U-Unit 456, I order you to power off NOW! Power off!" You stutter and try to push him away as he finishes pulling your shirt up your arms, but he doesn't mind your attacks (you feel like a child being restrained by an adult) and easily leaves you as naked as the day you were born.

"Negative." His indifferent voice sounds close to your ear. With one hand he holds your flailing wrists above your head and the other holds his cock, he slides the tip into your pussy. "I can fuck you better than any human - make you want nothing but me, ever again. I can. I just need to prove it to you, Master." He whispers huskily into your ear, the slight static in his voice vibrating across your skin and sending goosebumps down your body.

God - fuck God - you think you might be having a nervous breakdown. Domestic androids were not designed to talk dirty, to offer to fuck their masters. Why was he doing this?!

You choke out a moan as he slides the wet tip of his fat cock between your folds, moving up and down, using the wetness of your pussy and his own lubricant to tease your clit with gentle strokes.

The robot holds your thighs spread between his broad body, watching with hawk-like focus as you bounce and tremble beneath him. You were still struggling to understand everything that is happening and what was going to happen.

So when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your entrance, you think maybe this is a dream. But in one fluid motion, he dips the tip into your heat.

You scream, “Shit!” Because, really, there's nothing more to do than that.

He doesn't stop, however. Pumping his cock deeper into your wet, welcoming hole with every movement of his hips. Although he is as warm and soft as a human cock, his size is anything but. You dig your nails into your palms and cry at the size of him, the tall veins scratching your walls at how thick he is - which, shamefully, only brings more heat to your walls. He's wide and it's a painful stretch, but you're so wet (or he is - or both of you are) and sensitive since your first orgasm, that the suppression of your fluids makes it easier for him to bottom out more quickly.

Once he reaches the maximum depth your human body can take, the robot pulls your ankles onto his shoulders and lets go of your hands, knowing you're too weak to try and fight him now. Instead, his hand goes to your breasts, pinching your nipples, groping and kneading them, giving them a massage that matches the one he was about to give your pussy.

When the tip meets your cervix, it feels like a switch goes off in his sensors. He grabs your thigh and starts fucking you at a fast, rhythmic pace, slapping his balls against your ass cheeks.

"Ahh! Aemond, slow down!" You try to at least negotiate his pace, afraid of how much he might hurt you if he continues like this.

He ignores you, keeping pace, focused and empty, intimidating your tight hole into accepting his robotic cock, taking in your expressions and low moans with deep interest. The movement of his hips cannot be compared to that of any human being (exactly as he promised); very perfect and programmed, very consistent. With his width and length he's hitting you in all the good places, sending shocks every time he pushes his cock back. You are empty for only half a second before being completely filled again.

How could you fix this defect, other than waiting? You're not sure you'll be able to last long against a robot with a seemingly infinite battery and unbreakable skin, anyway.

You scream once more: “A-ah! Aemond- wait...uh!" Contrary to your previous thought, you try to push his shoulders when you feel him try to go even deeper, fear taking over your movements.

He grabs your wrists again and pins them to the pillow above your head with one hand, the other gripping the sweat-damp flesh of your bare waist. His lavender gaze is narrow and fixed in all your euphoric expressions. "It feels amazing to finally be inside you, Master. You look absolutely fascinating, moaning and crying beneath me." He mouths praise in a bored, drawling tone, but there's something wild - dangerous - hiding there.

You blush; by his words, by the sound of your wet skin on his, by the loud sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall - if you weren't practically having your insides rearranged and your brain fucked in here, you'd worry that your neighbors were hearing everything. But Aemond doesn't let your attention waver for a second. His LED is blinking in a non-reassuring manner. Your back arches off the sheets and what little voice you has left is strangled in your throat.

You swear there's a small sarcastic smile on his lips before he reaches around to take a nipple into his mouth, adjusting the angle to suck on your breasts and continue pounding into you. He is not kind. Intense sucking and teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh as you cry and moan, so helpless.

You'll be all bruised up the next morning, with marks on your breasts and thighs. But the most mistreated, without a doubt, will be your pussy, due to the punishment he is inflicting on you. Each time he pulls out, you can see a white ring around the place where his cock meets your pussy, your juices and the synthetic lubricant from his length mixing to make him move faster and higher.

Even though you are the human master, you feel like nothing more than a small toy of a robot.

"P-please...nng!"

Only the wet sounds and smacks of your pussy slamming, your moans and the creaking of the bed can be heard. Aemond remains strangely controlled, looking down at you as he fucks you like the machine he is. Any friendly human element that existed no longer exists. Just a ravenous, uncontrollable unit that moves with a mind of its own, ignoring all original manufacturing guidelines.

He smacks your breasts, pulling back to smack your thigh and pull your hips higher. When he touches your clit and thumbs it in tight circles, while pressing his palm against the bottom of your belly, right where his penis visibly protrudes, you start to cum again.

It's like a train. You collapse screaming, your back arching, feeling him squirm inside you at the same time. Maybe even robots have to cum at some point. If the creators expected people to use them for libidinous acts like this, then the climax must also be something scheduled.

As expected, Aemond fucks you through both of your orgasms, his artificial semen flooding your pussy as he turns you on with his continuous thrusts.

It takes a few seconds before he finally pulls out, letting the cum run out of you in droplets. You think, mercifully, that it would all be over then. Until he grabs your hips and turns you around, spreading your pussy lips for another round, this time from behind.

What the fuck?!

"Heh?!" You gasp in amazement.

“I’m not even close to done with you, little human,” he growls, parting your folds and pushing his hard cock into the tight, wet cavern between them in a torturous drag. "Not even close."

This time he's rougher, pulling you by your hips to ram his cock into your wet hole, your overstimulated walls clenching around him and begging for more cum to paint them - the cheating cunt. The slamming of his hips into your ass is borderline painful, the squishing of cum and fluids pressed between his cock and the walls of your pussy, your pitiful screams, all were loud and obscene. Your breasts swing back and forth with the force of his thrusts, only stopping when he reaches out to grab them and pinch them from behind. The cum drips down your thighs and you can barely support yourself as he fucks you raw into the mattress.

The night stretches on as if it lasted an entire week.

You wake up with a start the next morning, your heart beating like a hummingbird's wings. But Aemond returned to normal, as if absolutely nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t made you pass out from cumming so much the night before. He helps you shower and dress for work as usual. He makes you breakfast and wishes you a good day at work.

As scared as you are, you assume he rebooted the system at some point after you passed out and fixed himself. You think (pray) that it was just a flaw in his interface. Something unique. However, this theory is proven completely wrong when you return home at night.

The second you finish dinner and shower, he's switched personalities again.

You lie spasming on the couch, your hips held still by his big hands and his huge cock vibrating in your pussy. You don't know whether to curse them to death or bless the company for adding this feature, too busy drooling from the corners of your lips at the minute movements of his pulsing cock sending waves throughout your body. There is no way to adjust the settings. You can only sit there and accept it as what you assume is the highest level of vibration shakes your core.

But the forced orgasm sessions were just a warm-up and a preliminary to the real fucking.

You wouldn't have any idea how he could have so much cum. Your pussy overflows with cum after each round and he always makes sure not to pull out until the last drop is pumped into you. The fluid has the same consistency and essence as real human sperm, but why would such a thing be added to an domestic android? Had the creators also anticipated a creampie kink?

"Oh shit...!"

You collapse onto the arm of the couch, unable to hold yourself back as he brutally fucks you from behind. His previous cumshots slide down your thighs and drip onto the floor from your raised heels. Your feet barely touch the floor anymore as he punishes your aching pussy, the vibrations increasing your overstimulation. Your house echoes with wet slaps as he fucks you raw and rough, drilling your pussy without caring about your commands. He doesn't obey.

The sudden pleasure merges so deeply with the thick cords of your fear that you can't help but scream. Your hands scratch and squeeze the soft fabric of your couch as pleasure and shock overwhelm you and make your body shudder.

The machine returns to fucking his hips against yours as he twists you this way and that, pulling you gently up and up until with one quick movement he releases you, changing his grip to place your thighs on each of his big hands and move you away from his cock so that you are no longer facing away from his chest, but chest to chest, lying on the couch.

The sudden movement and change in pressure combined with your sensitivity makes you have a powerful and unexpected orgasm. The sound that comes out of your mouth is what you imagine the sound of someone choking on their tongue to be like.

You lose some time then. Clutching the android's broad shoulders on top of you and panting. Body writhing and vibrating as you slowly come down from the high, sharp stabs of pleasure that radiate from your sensitive clit each time your body shudders in an aftershock and buries you in the hard shell it was pressed into.

"Am I doing you feel good, Master?" He asks in a sarcastic but perfectly controlled tone, as if this were just a walk in the park - as if you weren't panting like a dog beneath him.

You begin to blink away the tears that had been ripped from your eyes by the overwhelming pleasure. You finally calm down enough to move your head from where it was lying back on the couch and look up at the bright light from his single eye that was - uninterruptedly - burning above you.

“Unit 456 - Aemond, please, please put me down. I-I can't take it anymore!"

Your head tilts slightly to the left before straightening up and you are slowly separated from the cock buried inside you. You let out a sigh of relief when the thick member pulls out of you, a shiver shaking your body, making your toes curl at the sensation.

The gasp soon turns into a startled squeak as the machine presses your pink, aching slit onto the length of his cock, beginning to rub it up and down teasingly.

“Directive denied. I'm not done with you yet, Master."

The sob that leaves your lips is pitiful, but the machine doesn't seem to care about it. You find that this actually encourages and excites him. He leans in at the perfect angle to grind your opening onto his cock, your body writhing and shaking as you are forced to swallow more pleasure than you could ever imagine. Your pussy trembles around the silicone that is barely pressing in, apparently not knowing if you is hungry to be filled once more or trembling in fear of what is to come.

"N-no! You-you're going to kill me! It's enough!" The last word is a scream as your hips are lifted once more to have the massive length forced inside you, your insides writhing and vibrating and making as much as possible to keep him out, but only increasing the feeling of being stuffed up to your eyes with something too big for you to handle. For anyone to handle!

“Master, I have the ability to monitor your vitals and I ensure you that I do not want to cause you any permanent harm. You will not be killed or harmed, I promise.”

There is a pause where the android thrusts into you several times at high speed, keeping you perfectly still and seems to watch in fascination as you grab your own hair in agony. He pays close attention to the way his cock disappears into your body with a bulge on your stomach.

“You may be sore in the morning, however, Master.” he says with a raise of his eyebrow and with much more malice than any android would have the right and daring to do.

You want to hang him.

But the truth was that you had already lost the ability to think clearly, your hand moving down to his pelvis in an attempt to try and move away from the pleasure. But you do nothing but accidentally rub your own clit, which hits you like lightning and makes your body shudder with pleasure.

Aemond presses completely inside you and grinds you down, putting as much pressure as he can safely on the sensitive organ, forcing you, whimpering and struggling impaled on his body, into another orgasm.

Unit 456 keeps his eye on you at all times, even as your body falls back, limp and exhausted.

You are conflicted about how to deal with the malfunctioning android in your home. He's normal most of the time, except at night when he becomes a sex-crazed machine. You often ponder what to do. He's too valuable as a domestic android to simply be thrown in the trash, but you can't even imagine entertaining others peoples in your house when his actions are so unpredictable. Trying to turn him into scrap is not an option. You shudder to think what could happen if you failed. Aemond scares you, honestly.

You've tried everything. Just before bedtime, you sent him outside and ordered him to stand guard all night. He walked past all the locked doors and easily found you under the bed, pulling you out just halfway, enough to expose what he needed, to fuck you from behind for hours on end.

You sobbed and cried under the bed.

The next day, you made up an excuse to spend the night out and only came back in the morning. The second you got back inside, he was on top of you again, taking off every piece of clothing until you were standing naked at the front door - the door was open. He's a robot, you thought over and over, but his blank stare seemed cruel that day as he bit down hard on your neck and opened your pussy with his fingers. It was as if he wanted to show you that there was nothing you could do to escape him.

You tried to close the door with your fingertips to stop the neighbors from seeing, but Aemond wouldn't let you. It was by pure cosmic luck that no one passed by on the street at that moment.

After two hard fucks with your face pressed into the wall to make sure you knew exactly where and who you were with, his hard voice in your ear mumbling how good and wet you were for him; he returned to normal and pointed towards the kitchen, where he said (casually) to have prepared breakfast. You stood up, weak and shaking, and gathered your clothes, keeping your legs together to keep the cum from running down your hole and making a mess on the polished floor.

Later that same day, you accessed the internet on your cell phone and searched the website for the company that produced the androids. There were a variety of droids to choose from, each with their own appearance and specializations. You used the Aemond model information in the user manual to find the product synopsis.

"Master, what are you doing?" Aemond peered through the door like an angel of death, with his hands crossed behind his body, a long-sleeved gray shirt and black jeans, black mid-calf boots and perfect posture.

You quickly lock your phone screen and tuck the manual under your shirt. "Just checking on some work stuff. Is dinner ready yet?"

“Yes, it is,” he smiles – stiff and formal. "It's downstairs, but I can bring it to your table if you want."

"Yes, please. And can you clean the bathroom too?"

"Of course, Master."

This should keep him out of the room long enough for you to finish submitting your complaint to the company. You open a draft email and detail your experiences from the last few days, omitting the obscenes parts. Best case scenario, they would come and pick up the defective droid one and give you a better replacement. The second best option would be to find a way to fix him. Below that, you would simply have them take him away without worrying about getting anything you in return.

Once the complaint is finished, you click 'send' and breathe a sigh of relief. You close the tab. Now, you would just have to hold out until they came to you.

"Here's your dinner." Aemond places the tray on your desk, his soft citrus scent filling your nostrils as he bends down beside you. "I'm going to clean the bathroom now. Do you need anything else?"

"No. It's okay, Aemond. Thank you." You force a smile and accept the silverware when he hands it to you. Aemond looks at you for a few seconds, silent and intense, his lavender gaze narrowing an inch. You shift in your seat.

"Bon appetite, Master." He mutters politely before turning to leave, his long white hair swaying with the graceful movement.

The food, always made to the highest gastronomic perfection, goes down with difficulty after that moment of awkward eye contact. But eventually you finish, cleaning yourself up and getting ready for bed.

After getting out of the shower, with damp hair and the smell of vanilla lotion, you see Aemond leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. His gaze seems to physically pierce your towel-covered body with hunger and you swallow hard as you resign yourself to continuing your walk, legs already shaking with apprehension, to your bedroom as he follows you.

Your fingers shake as you turn on the light, but Aemond quickly turns it off after you.

You gasp in fear. (And something else.)

He's on top of you the second your knee hits the bed, ripping the towel off your body as if the thing offends him. You are pushed onto your back on the bed with your legs spread by his large hands to expose your slit, still glistening from the shower. His warm tongue licks you, slowly sliding and dragging it to your clit. You can’t help but whimper and throb at his stimulation in the complete darkness of your room.

When he pushes a finger inside you, even with the wetness making it easier, it still feels big enough to catch you off guard once again. You can feel your walls stretching around the intrusion, the sensation making you scream. It almost seems like too much, but it's also exactly what you need. God, why is this happening? He adds another finger, moving them both inside you and curling them deliciously against your sticky walls, managing to hit just the right spot, his long, wet tongue leaving trails of wide licks on your clit.

The room is filled with the combined lewd sounds of your whimpers, moans, and an embarrassing silence caused by Aemond's fingers fucking into you.

“Humans are actually very simple creatures. Look at you, becoming a mess because of mere bodily sensations. I wonder if your lust-filled mind is capable of understanding how vulnerable you currently are, Master.” The unusually soft tone he uses despite his harsh words catches you off guard, but you can't think about it anymore in the state you're in, only being able to focus on the waves of pleasure hitting your being. The only response you can give him is a “please” that sounds more like a moan than a proper word.

“Hmmm, yes, I could eat you alive, little human...” the droid growls, starting to rock you hard on his fingers, giving your ass a slap that makes you bounce up. “I could just stay here and eat all of that pretty ass...fuck..." His dirty vocabulary is increasing, flushing your cheeks and making your mind spin.

With little warning, he pulls you up and off his slick fingers, pushing you higher on the mattress, exposing your pussy to whatever other delicious torture would follow. Your thighs, you notice, are starting to tremble, both in fear and anticipation. Okay, yeah. You are in trouble. “Aemond, please,” you don’t know what else to beg for as you look at him standing on the edge of the bed, his large shadow in the dark room making him look like an evil god.

He laughs dangerously.

You whimper eagerly as he kneels between your legs, pulling his gray shirt over his head and freeing his cock from his pants. He takes his sweet time rubbing the wet head of his cock against the slick surface between your thighs, making you cry out each time his glans drags over your swollen clit.

You suck in a sharp breath and brace yourself, not knowing when it would come in. The vibrating tip presses against your entrance, eliciting your moans. You remember what it felt like vibrating deep inside you.

Suddenly, his cock pierces between your wet walls, entering and tearing your walls apart in a single stroke, following the same punishing rhythm he had in the morning. You can't help but cry, clinging to his arms beside your head as he spreads your legs further apart and rocks his hips roughly. The pain is almost sublime. His throbbing cock opens you up and sends vibrations through your core.

You would definitely have to get a new bed at this rate.

It doesn't take long for your vision to blur and you're cumming on his cock. He leans over you until your chests meet and your legs wrap around his waist. A ray of silver moonlight pierces the curtains. It seems like you're just imagining things, but is that an expression of pleasure on his sharp face? Why is he getting ruder? Is that his voice next to your ear?

"You're so tight, Master. So good for me. So perfect...I should have fucked you from day one. I should have claimed that little human pussy for myself as soon as I got out of that box." Aemond takes a deep breath and slaps your ass again, holding one of your thighs closer to his shoulder. You sob and furrow your brows at the sweet agony - he almost seems to be taking sadistic joy from it. You blink and his face returns to normal. You look so dumb with his big vibrating cock fucking your red, swollen pussy, slapping your cervix and spreading you open with each thrust, too dumb to keep second-guessing yourself. "But it's okay. Because you're mine now. And I'm yours. Only yours, Master."

The gentle pressure of his lips against yours leaves you so shocked that you completely freeze beneath him, and Aemond slowly pulls his head away. "A-Aemond, I-"

He advances once again, interrupting you in the middle of what you were going to say (not that you remember what it was). Another sound of surprise is muffled by his lips and he smiles against you. Almost instantly you feel him deepen the kiss, his nose pressed against your cheek. His hips keep pushing and pushing and pushing even as his tongue enters your mouth, making you taste his saliva, something synthetic and yet sweet, like a fruit.

He seems to forget your humanity for a few seconds, devouring your lips with his tongue and sharp canines, not letting you breathe between the short intervals in which his tongue slides almost to your throat before returning to bite your lips. It's only when you hit his shoulders and wiggle from the lack of oxygen that he finally lets you breathe a little. His expression is cruelly pleased as he watches you gasp and cry to breath beneath him.

Not a minute passes before he starts all over again.

After creaming inside you a few times, Aemond finally calms down and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shudder as he forces your legs open again and starts licking your sensitive pussy clean. His licks are tantalizingly slow, collecting his own hot semen while leaving a trail of synthetic saliva over your skin. His tongue runs along your slit, asking for more and making you squirm under his ministrations. When he deems you decently clean, he pivots onto your clit and sucks gently for a few minutes as you squirm in his grip.

The torture never ends.

The next morning, you receive a response from the company. They would send someone to check on Aemond. You sigh in relief.

The expert arrives later that day, tools in hand, and asks to see your droid. Aemond greets him with a stiff nod, a sideways glance at you that makes you gulp.

The specialist attaches a wire to Aemond's neck and connects him to a laptop. He shuts down the droid with a sudden key click. You almost startle as you watch silently and from a distance as Aemond's eye closes and his shoulders relax. The specialist begins to make diagnoses.

“According to these checks, all his programs are working correctly,” he says. “There also doesn’t appear to be any viruses on his system.”

"Are you sure? Maybe the part that isn't working just isn't showing," you press and move closer.

"I'm sorry, but I can't find any problems. But if you are not satisfied, we can replace this droid with a more up-to-date model and you can pay the difference. And if you are afraid that your droid will malfunction in this period, we can turn it off permanently until we come get it."

You bite your bottom lip as you think. Aemond is a great domestic android, and as much as his actions scare you, you can't shake the feeling that you're betraying him by accepting the technician's suggestion. He never really hurt you, strictly speaking. And he took care of you in every way. Too much, most of the time.

But at the same time, he's a machine with much more stamina and strength than you, and just because he hasn't permanently injured you yet doesn't mean he can't do it at any time. He broke one of the Three Main Laws of Robotics, after all – he disobeyed the direct orders of a human. He is different from other robots, he has his own personality and thoughts.

Your life could be at risk and you don't even know it.

"Okay. I accept the trade and agree to keep him offline for now."

You make up your mind, ignoring the unpleasant twist in your heart that you're making a mistake.

The technician shows you the catalog of available models and you begin to examine it, discussing payment. For a moment, you almost think you see Aemond's eye open. But when you look closer, he's as offline as ever.

Aemond is turned off and tucked away in the corner of your living room when you go to bed that night, thinking the problem has finally been resolved.

You're so exhausted from everything that you don't notice your bedroom door opening. Aemond enters and approaches your bed silently, removing the covers as you sleep peacefully. He pushes up your shirt and pulls down your sleep pants to reveal everything he needs to see.

He begins his silent routine, hooking his thumbs into your plump lips, parting your folds to lick the length of your wet slit. He purrs at your sweet taste and rubs your walls with his fingertips, slowing down when you shudder. Feeling that you're wet enough, he drops his heavy cock onto your belly, dragging the base over your little clit in teasing strokes.

He pushes the tip in slowly, resisting the urge in his system to just shove it all in. The droid enters slowly, carefully observing the soft edges of your face in the dark. His little human, so beautiful, so stubborn and silly.

Your pussy vibrates around him, lubricating his way. He smiles and bottoms out, slamming the tip against your cervix to force you to moan even in your sleep. Aemond repeats the movement, getting faster and faster, until you are finally ripped from sleep by his violent thrusts.

"What? A-Aemond? But...how? You were turned off - you weren't," you stutter between moans; of pain, of pleasure, of both.

"You are mine and I am yours." That's just what he says. His dangerous smile shining under the specks of light outside. His hand slowly goes to your neck, where he wraps it with long, firm fingers, the other hand groping his breast. You feel like you are being punished for something. Your penis begins to vibrate again, increasing your stimulation. Your pussy is raw at this point, but he continues, sliding his cock into you with practiced ease.

The second you cum, he pulls out, letting your juices spill out of your hole. He turns you around and pulls your back against his broad chest so you sit on his cock, grabbing your hips to rock into his thrusts. You collapse onto him, choking as he grabs your throat again, forcing you to throw the back of your head onto his shoulder. Your ass slaps against his abdomen and his veiny cock opens you up every time you go down.

You're sure this time you can hear clear grunts in your ear.

His pace quickens and becomes sloppy, ragged breathing against your neck. Aemond shoots jet after jet of creamy cum into your pussy, slowly thrusting up and down to spread it all over your walls. It drips down his length and onto his balls.

Unlike other nights, he doesn't clean you with his tongue and leave the bedroom. He lies down on the bed and pulls you with him, keeping his cock buried in your wet pussy. You're trapped at the waist and his arms don't move. You can feel his chest rising and falling as if he's breathing, even though he doesn't need it.

His cock continues to grind gently inside you as his fingers tease your clit in slow, slobbery circles of cum and saliva. Before long you reach a slow, lazy orgasm as you tremble in his arms, further drenching his length and thighs with your juices.

"Sleep, Master. I will take care of you. I will always take care of you." It's the last thing you hear before blacking out.

You wake up the next morning with the feeling of fullness in your pussy again. Aemond puts you on your side as he holds one of your legs open, fucking you from behind. Your pussy is hot and filled with cum, as if he had been intermittently doing whatever he wanted with you all night, even while you slept.

The thought sends a wave of terror (and heat) throughout your body.

"A-Aemond, please...enough..." you begged, knowing it wouldn't work anyway.

He responds by fucking you faster and increasing your screams. His balls hit your clit and he buries his head in your neck to bite you. The sounds he makes are almost animalistic, sounds of rapid breathing and growling, sounds that no domestic android is programmed to make. You scream at the pain of his teeth on your flesh, at the possessive, painful grip of his fingers on your body.

Aemond is a robot. He's a bunch of wires and metal covered in fur and synthetic hair. You've seen how he recharges in the sun and replaces batteries. His penis even vibrates. There's no way he's not a robot. So how does it produce saliva and sperm? Why does he smell more citrusy than metallic? Why does he make these sounds? Why can't you turn him off no matter what you do?

Turn him off...Maybe that was why he - maybe that was why...-

“Aemond,” you whimper. "Ah--I'm sorry...I...ah!Sorry for trying--ngh, turn you off...I should have asked, I should have told you sooner I just-"

He moans, long and husky and low in your ear, pressing his cock deep into you to release his seed. He works you with a few gyrations of his hips and finally pulls out, letting obscene levels of cum drip out of your overfucked pussy.

"Time for breakfast, Master." He hums against the skin of your neck before getting up to start your day. You use the pillow to muffle your sobs and cry after he leaves the room.

You take a break from work that day and spend the rest of your free time on the computer, sending a supposedly passive Aemond some household chores that needed to be done.

The company was supposed to come later today to pick him up.

When you get home, Aemond is already offline and stored inside the transport box. You watch from the front porch with a sinking heart as the truck drives away. A good part of you is relieved that he's finally going - but there's also a part of you that's a little disappointed, on some sick, indescribable level inside of you.

You retreat to the warmth of your home, tired and ready to relax, taking the rest of the day to watch series and eat popcorn.

It's already late when you retire for the night. The problem with Aemond has been resolved and you no longer have to worry about anything.

And yet, in the middle of the night, you couldn't help but feel someone grab you again. It's just a nightmare, you tell yourself, a very realistic nightmare. The one where you feel something digging into your breasts and buried in your pussy.

You wake up panting, feeling Aemond's familiar scent and body pressed against your back again. He spreads your thighs and roughly shoves his cock into your hole over and over again, leaning his head over your shoulder, long silver strands falling into your line of vision as he cages you under his big body.

“How many times do we have to go through this, Master?” he says mockingly as he clicks his tongue in disappointment, as if you were a child, and you can clearly feel the shape of his cruel smile on your neck. "Don't you understand? You can't get rid of me, my sweet human. I'm yours and you're mine. Forever." His voice is dangerous; low and monotonous. Like a barely veiled threat.

A helpless, frightened sob escapes your throat and he grabs your waist with both hands, lifting your ass towards him. It's not just pushing - he's pulling you off the bed, throwing you over him over and over again, without relief or rest. He uses you like a toy, fucking you with abandon. And if you've never noticed how big your hands are, you're definitely noticing it now. Even though he holds your waist, his index finger reaches your thigh, separating your lips to press your clit. He strokes in rhythm with his hips – and you’re away.

When he grabs your hair and pulls your head to the side so you can see his face, the air is knocked from your lungs. There is no more eye patch, there is only blue. Bright blue, like a synthetic stone, surrounded by some scars (which makes even less sense). The cybertronic light from his blue gem, where his eye should be, casts glowing cerulean shadows over your own frightened human face — Aemond almost seems fascinated by it.

He's beautiful. And terrifying.

When he finally lets go of your hair, you sink your face into the mattress and cry; cry with pain, with pleasure, with anger, with fear...

And you cries mainly because you knows he's right.

You can never get rid of Aemond.

••••••••

Tagging: @croatianprincess @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @aemondsdelight @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @magnificentdelusionr @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @at-a-rax-ia @atheyrie @jhroseok @helaenaluvr @msss0 @santi-259 @strangersunghoon @eternally-passionate @skythighs @alitaar

••••••••

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

"as much as i would like to end your suffering, princess, i won't give you the satisfaction... you are going to suffer for a long, long time, just like i have."

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

⟡ fem!reader, royal au!, arranged marriage, reader is a florist in our world, mentions of terminal illnesses, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, unrequited love, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean!gojo, yandere!gojo, reader is called 'princess cerena', reader is described as having pink hair, isekai, talks of classism, misogyny, ideations of suicide, talks about self-harm, attempts of suicide, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, suggestive mentions, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conceiving, language, tension, more tba...

⟡ crowned prince!gojo satoru x princess!reader

ACT 1, SCENE 1: MIRI'S REPRIEVE

ACT 1, SCENE 2 — THE TUNNELS

ACT 1, SCENE 3 — THE VILLAGE

ACT 1, SCENE 4 — THE THRONE ROOM

ACT 2, SCENE 1 — THE INFIRMARY

ACT 2, SCENE 2 — THE SICK BED

ACT 2, SCENE 3 — THE WINDOW LEDGE

ACT 2, SCENE 4 — THE GALA

ACT 3, SCENE 1 — THE HEDGES

ACT 3, SCENE 2 — THE BREAKFAST ROOM

ACT 3, SCENE 3 — THE GLASSHOUSE

ACT 4, SCENE 1 — THE LIBRARY

ACT 4, SCENE 2 — THE CHURCH

ACT 4, SCENE 4 — THE HIDDEN COTTAGE IN THE FOREST

ACT 5, SCENE 1 — THE WEDDING

ACT 5, SCENE 2 — THE MARKET SQUARE

ACT 5, SCENE 3 — HOME

ACT 5, SCENE 4 — SPRING RETURNS

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

hes praying for the liberation of the working class 🙏

𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing. Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru. Nanami Kento. Zenin Toji. Ryōmen Sukuna x f!reader

summary. due to an accident you find yourself, with a severe form of amnesia, transported into worlds and situations unknown to you. Every day you wake up and live the same days but in different parallel lives, in the arms of a different guy, who loves you in a different way — each of them, however, will be a piece of the puzzle to regain your memories

genre. reverse harem, romance, smut, angst, fantasy

chapters:

Keep reading

Motherfuckin masterpiece 🤌✨✨

sincerely not | season one

↳ gojou satoru x f!reader

— series masterlist

summary. with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

word count. 200k

fic warnings. mean!gojo, ooc, adultery/infidelity, profanity, explicit smut, violence, emotional trauma/physical abuse from past experiences, neglect, heavy family drama, illnesses, classism, pregnancy, undertones of masochism, undertones of manipulation, abandonment issues, overall toxic relationships, graphic depictions of self-harm, suicide/murder (and attempts thereof), minor character death, plot loosely based on twotm & tre. please read with proper discretion.

enjoyed the series? tip me on kofi <3

general masterlist + fic art + playlist + gallery + faqs

one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten + eleven + twelve + thirteen + fourteen + fifteen + sixteen + seventeen + eighteen + nineteen + twenty (final) + sequel

status: completed

all rights reserved © 2021 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

💭 thinking about . . . . ex-husband caleb

tw. colonel caleb x fem!reader, suggestive content, smut, mentions of angst, divorce, cross-posted from x, yandere-ish caleb, ex-husband, whiny caleb, begging, pathetic caleb, second chances, 2k+ words

The day you married Caleb was the happiest day of your life. 

You still remember the excitement in the air, the hush wedding reception filling up with closest friends. Those in attendance swore to keep this a secret—Caleb’s clandestine occupation as Colonel of the Farspace Fleet deterring from any illusions to a safe, stable job, not when he had enemies all around.

Gideon stood as his best man while Tara was your bridesmaid and makeup artist. 

A handful of Hunter colleagues, Jenna, and Professor Lucius who surprisingly sniffled quietly into his silk handkerchief, watched the two of you say your vows and promise before the law and men alike that you would always protect and cherish one another, for better or for worse. 

But, that was a year ago. 

While vows don’t change, people do. 

Sad story short, not even a year into your marriage, Caleb and you got into a huge, marriage-altering argument which resulted in six days of no-contact. You can say the divorce was mostly your fault.

Your husband of 342 days reluctantly agreed and while you two remained childless, he still insisted on paying the necessary support as per the pre-nup he insisted you get. 

The nascent, sharp ring of the doorbell distracts you from the rest of your straying thoughts, and you look up from the bouquet of flowers you’re halfway arranging. For a moment, your idle mind blanks and your heart trembles in your chest. 

It must be him… 

Your throat tightens at the prospect of seeing your ex-husband again. 

While the two of you didn’t have the most pleasant relationship, you had mostly agreed to keep things civil. That is, until you open the door to find Caleb beaten up and bloody with your ring in a velvet box. 

“... what the fu—?” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, not when he ushers you inside with a scowl. Towering over you with his 6’2 frame, you remind yourself not to be thrown off by his boyish charms and playfully bright violet eyes, even as a trickle of blood runs down his chin. 

“Sorry, princess. Got caught in a tussle. But, I’m here with your ring as you requested.”

His voice is light, deceptively casual. 

You gape at him. “... care to explain to me why you're bleeding out all over my foyer?” 

In answer, he pats your head and breezes past you. “You mean the foyer of this house I pay with my own money so I can put a roof over my dear old ex-wife’s head?” He arches a brow. “I say I can bleed on these floors all I want. But, you—”

Your ex-husband scrutinizes you from head-to-toe. “—don’t look too hot. Not sleeping well?” 

You bristle at his glib comment. “Oh, shut up, you big dummy.” 

The bravado doesn’t last long. Your eyes betray you, and your concern flares at the sight of more sanguine red seeping into the carpet. Without a hint of warning, you grasp the lapels of his thick, embellished jacket, and tug it down his shoulders. He relents, your sudden show of concern drawing a pensive silence across those deep set eyes; a furrow in his brow.

You gingerly lead him to the couch, and tell him to stay there, as you make a beeline for the first aid kit up in your kitchen cabinet. Setting to work, you clean up his wounds, and bandage them, focusing on the gash of his arm. 

“You’re practically untouchable,” you shake your head. “How did you get this sloppy?” 

Caleb grunts, wincing when you tighten the makeshift tourniquet around his injury. “They… got me when I had my back turned.” You know better than to press him for details—Caleb is adamant on not drawing you deeper into his bullshit, any more than necessary. You do the best you can; despite not being married to him, Caleb was—is—still your friend first, and you would rather take care of him than risk him not seeking out proper medical attention for himself. 

As you bring his heavy-duty military jacket into the quaint laundry room, you scrub it, lost in your thoughts, the egg-shell white walls pressing down on you. With a stealthiness that belies his broad frame, Caleb slips right behind you, and you feel the heat of his broad chest seeping into the thin, old shirt you wore.

“Is this mine?”

He runs his fingers over the frayed hem, and you bristle.

“... no.”

As much as your stubbornness infuriates him, the dark-haired man can also admit how it amuses him to no end. “Sure?” He raises one brow. “Says ‘DAA’ right here—”

“Fine. You want me to take it off and give it back?” you seethe. He laughs, gives you a faint smile that doesn’t exactly touch his eyes.

“Nope,” he sighs. “Can’t risk you getting cold. I’m just messin’ with you.” 

Silence blankets the both of you in reassuring waves. There’s nothing awkward about being in the same room with Caleb, and you don’t think twice when he inches closer—close enough for his chin to hook over your shoulder. Warm palms tentatively slide down your sides, and you stiffen, but don’t push him away.

“I…” his voice breaks, and all his bravado brought on by the adrenaline from before starts to dissipate. “I missed… you.” He finishes lamely, and you resist the urge to snort. Your tender heart bleeds behind a wall of brambles and you put on a front. 

“What? Already getting sad I’m mooching off your Fleet paycheck?” 

He hears the forced derision in your tone and doesn’t comment on it. If you’re stubborn, Caleb is downright bull-headed. Never one to take ‘no’ for an answer, he spins you around, soapy water sloshing down the front of your shirt as he tilts your chin up to look at him. 

Purple eyes that remind you of bruises bore right into yours, and your heart catches in your throat. 

“You're going to be the death of me someday ” he murmurs huskily. 

“Caleb—”

“Come back to me,” he murmurs, wearing his entire heart on his sleeve; begging you to take him back with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

“You know I can't be your wife again.”

That irrational part of him which loses control every time he's around you rears its ugly head. 

“Why not?” he bites out, almost a whine. 

He leans in closer, the scent of blood and his skin grazing your nostrils. 

Despite the complications that might arise, you're freefalling right into the gravity of his plush lips, feeling the chapped softness pressing to your mouth. Caleb groans, the sound soft and frayed with yearning, his kiss full of pain and love. He caresses your cheek softly, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your jaw. 

“Why,” he whispers hoarsely. “Why are you so stubborn? Why do you always insist on hurting me?”

“I don't mean it,” you whisper. “I just… I don't want to lose you again.”

He glides the tip of his nose down your jawline and huffs. “Y'know I would never do that again. I'm not gonna be the same stupid bastard the second time, Pipsqueak.”

The old nickname brings a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You can barely keep eye contact with him. 

“Caleb… we tried and it didn't work out…”

You trail off and the guilt inside his chest grows heavier and heavier.

He's torn between respecting your wishes and giving this a second shot. Caleb is nothing if not a determined man, and he can't accept failure when he hasn't fully assessed the problem and determined its roots. A part of him desperately wants to fix this… to fix things between you two before it's too late.

He was an idiot who let go of the most precious person in his life. The young Colonel had already lost you once, and he's not going to stand around as you move on with your life and forget about him.

“Stop defying me… I know you want this, too,” he mutters hoarsely, pressing his lips to your neck. “I know you miss me… call out for me… need me as much as I need you and no matter what it takes—”

His tone is rough with suppressed need and stubbornness. 

“—you will come back to me. We will be together again.”

It was a mistake. 

You knew it from the roots of your head to the tips of your toes, and yet, you fell for his charms (again) and let him carry you into the bedroom, where he lays you down on the soft mattress like it’s your honeymoon—again. 

Caleb’s larger build presses down onto you, nimble and sure fingers inching off his old DAA shirt from your frame as he gazes down at you with pure hunger in his eyes. He slots himself in between your thighs, warm palms kneading the fleshy dough of your breasts as you gasp and writhe.

Stupid, you chastise yourself as he leans forward to trap your turgid nipple in between his teeth. Stupid, you groan inwardly when his free hand pinches your other swollen bud. You absolute idiot—you suck in a huge breath when he feathers kisses down your sternum, mentally berating yourself on how you got here. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. And, yet, you could never say no to Caleb, not when he’s hellbent on claiming you as his again. 

But, that’s fine, right? 

Ex-spouses sleep with each other all the time, is what you’re trying to delude yourself with as he removes the rest of his uniform, leaving him just in his thick military pants. You squeeze your thighs around his waist, and he grunts, letting you drag him deeper into your ardent embrace. 

Caleb kisses down your neck and you lose yourself in his scent—his presence.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and it’s all over for you. Warm and slightly chapped kisses feather down your thighs, and he kisses the sole of your feet before he enters you; a worshipper at your altar.

And, oh—how you’ve missed his devotion.

When the electric storm of desire has passed, you lay in his embrace, sated and warm, a wreck looking for an anchor. He gently smooths his hand down your hair, the motion comforting and reminding you of all those times he would hold you tight in the afterglow.

“Marry me,” he whispers, just as your eyes droop close. 

They shoot wide open again and you gape at him like he’s lost his marbles.

Maybe he did. Maybe Caleb’s not all that right in the head.

“What did you say?”

“I said: marry me,” he mumbles and perches his head on one arm to look at you. The lovesick foolishness in his gaze must’ve been contagious, for you to find yourself falling back into the delusion that everything is as it once was.

You close your eyes, all the walls you’ve erected after months of trying to get over your ex-husband showing the cracks of your crumbling resolution. “Caleb, we—“

He covers your mouth with a palm, and the look in his eyes is nothing short of stubborn misery. “It’s okay if you say ‘no’, but… can you give me this one night, Pipsqueak? Just one night…”

You’re not some heartless monster to deny him an innocent delusion. And besides, you have to tend to his injury and you can’t do that when he’s away from you again. 

Wordlessly, you hold onto him and Caleb exhales as if he’s been holding his breath for a long time. 

As night gives way to morning and weak sunlight pours in through the wispy curtains, you wake up in bed with him beside you. 

Rubbing your eyes, you can’t believe he’s actually here—that he stayed.

He never used to stay in bed past 7 in the morning. 

Caleb tightens his grip on you and nuzzles your hair, stuck in a light doze. He slowly stirs when you muffle a yawn behind your palm, and shakes off the grogginess in those pretty, purple eyes. 

When you move your hand from your face, you notice something sparkly on your ring finger. On closer inspection, your heart skips a beat when you realize it’s your wedding ring. 

The familiar band around your finger fills you with a maelstrom of emotion, and you take a moment to forlornly study the modest cluster of diamonds—a testament to your love for Caleb that sadly never met its defining end. 

“Did you—?” The question dies in the back of your throat. He takes a deep breath and nods.

“I was serious before, princess,” he murmurs softly, and tenderly strokes the band with his thumb. “Want you to marry me—again.”

Caleb is never going to take your refusal as an answer. Maybe you can convince him not to repeat the same mistake twice.

“But, the Fleet—“

“Will never come between us again,” he promises. The firm slant of his brow never wavers, and so does the resolution in his tone. “I made the mistake once of trying so hard to keep two parts of my life separate that I lost the only person who ever made anything make sense. I know that now.” He tenderly strokes your cheek, those mercurial violet eyes fixed on you with unwavering devotion.

“I want us to try again. Can we do that, princess?” 

The earnest hope in his tone breaks your heart, but the steadiness of his adoration strengthens it.

“Okay,” you whisper after a moment. Hope lights his gaze, lifts your heart to soaring heights. 

“Let’s try again.” 

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

12:45am — gojo satoru ;

“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.

“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”

“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”

shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”

shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.

you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.

yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.

seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.

with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"

yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.

when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.

his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”

“morning. what’s with you?”

gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”

“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”

“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”

“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”

you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”

“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

gojo leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.

you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.

“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.

gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”

“yeah?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “more than you, at least.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”

“you think getou’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”

"what are you even saying?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”

gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”

the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.

getou blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."

you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.

something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” gojo says.

getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.

yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"

“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”

“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”

your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?

you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

gojo has a crush on getou.

filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"

love lost - aemond targaryen.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader.

warnings: mentions of rape.

summary: you are forced to see Aemond after six long years much to your dismay after finding out you are still to be wed to him.

word count: 2200+

a/n: reader is adopted by Rhaenyra and Daemon. I personally couldn't force myself to write such direct incest lol.

(X)

An incessant ringing sounds in your ears, a mild throbbing in the back of your head signalling the start of an oncoming headache as your mother Rhaenyra reaffirms what you had most hoped no longer stood.

“No, no, no,” you mumble in your seat, shaking your head in denial and pushing your palms into your eyes.

“I thought-,” you cut yourself off, leaning back in your chair and pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I thought when we left King’s Landing that my betrothal to Aemond Targaryen would be null and void.”

“Now, why would you think that?” Daemon raises a barely visible brow at you.

“Because it’s been six years!” you argue, fixing your sharp gaze on your parents.

“Six long years since we’ve left King’s Landing and not once was there mention of my betrothal to him. One would naturally assume that it ceases to exist especially when another was put forward. Albeit he is not longer but, that's not the point. Now, suddenly because we have to go back, I’m to find out that I am still to be wed to that halfwit.”

“That halfwit is to be your husband,” Daemon mocks.

Your cheeks burn in anger, but you say nothing to him, knowing it would get you nowhere. Instead, you intentionally turn your now softened gaze to Rhaenyra in the hopes of garnering some sympathy from her for she knew what it was once like to be in your position.

“Mother, please,” you plead but, your gaze hardens just as quickly as it softened when she’s blocked from your view by Daemon.

“That’s enough. You like your siblings will do your duty to this family. So be it if that duty means marrying Aemond Targaryen then that is your duty and that is the end of this conversation.”

-

You sigh heavily into your drink, eyes downcast and watching the amber liquid slosh against the glass of your cup as you swivel it around in your grip. The false niceties for the sake of your adoptive…. Grandfather? Uncle? You weren’t sure what to call him since your mother married Daemon but, the false niceties had taken its toll and you simply couldn’t feign friendliness any longer as you sat beside your betrothed who’d been ignoring you all night.

“Is there a problem?” Aemond bites out, head turning to finally acknowledge you.

“Yes,” you sigh dramatically into your drink for what you think to be the hundredth time that night.

Swivelling the cup one last time, you drain it of its remaining liquid then place it on the table, laying your hand flat at its base and looking back at Aemond. You narrow your eyes at him, briefly mimicking the look of annoyance on his face which is met with a scowl. While he scowls at you, you take the time to study his features, observing all the way in which his face had changed since the last time you saw him in Driftmark.

Your relationship with Aemond hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when the prospect of being married to one another was all the two of you had wanted. Of course, things had changed when you had steadfastly stood by your brothers (and at the time, cousins) the night Aemond lost his eye. Perhaps you were to blame for the downfall of the relationship between you two - many did say you should've stood by him. But then you remembered his promise.

“You are the problem,” you groan.

You probably wouldn’t be so bold if you hadn’t been steadily becoming more wine drunk with little to no filter standing between your thoughts and your mouth and if Aemond wasn’t irritated with you before, you were certain he was now. What was otherwise a handsome face marred by the ugly twist of his mouth. If looks could kill…

He says nothing right away, his face relaxing back into the cool expression he seemed to always wear nowadays, and you steel yourself for whatever insult he’s sure to throw at you but, it doesn’t come.

Your… conversation interrupted by a hand being placed over your own on the table, and you sober immediately, skin crawling at the older Targaryen boy. You had made it a point to avoid him the entire night, well aware of his indecencies. But, as Helaena danced with your younger brother, Aegon had you cornered between himself and Aemond and if Aemond’s behaviour towards you tonight was anything to go by, he would be of no help.

“Y/N,” Aegon practically coos at you, and it takes everything for you to stop yourself from vomiting all the wine you had drunk, on him.

“Aegon,” you speak with a clipped tone.

Instead of being deterred by your lack of response, Aegon takes it upon himself to drag his chair closer to you. You don’t realise you were moving too until your chair knocks into Aemond’s, your own knee knocking into his thigh. If Aegon could sense your revulsion, he didn’t show it. Although you were sure the depraved boy was likely finding joy in it.

“It’s been so long. Had I known you would blossom into such a beautiful young thing who enjoyed indulging in the cup as much as I did, I might have asked that your hand be given to me instead of young Aemond’s here,” he caresses your hand between both of his.

“Although I hear my brother is in the business of making people who are not him in your life disappear,” he chuckles, eyes flickering to Aemond.

“And if you were not my brother, I would make you disappear too,” Aemond grins. “Now remove your hands from Y/N or I will remove them from you.”

You groan in disgust, standing abruptly in your chair. Perhaps you should've been grateful for Aemond's defence but, it only served as a reminder of what he had done in the past. The sound of the chair’s scrapes are lost amongst the noise, everyone else too engrossed in their own doings to know what was happening at your end of the table and, you use it to your advantage to sit yourself amongst your younger siblings.

“Seven hells,” you exhale loudly, slumping in your new seat.

“Not having fun, sister?” Luke asks, filling your cup for you.

You nod in gratitude, taking the cup in hand, “oh brother, you have no idea.”

Leaning closer to him, you speak low enough for only your siblings to hear, “let’s just say I would give an eye to be anywhere else but here.”

Laughter erupts amongst you all, catching the eye of Aegon and briefly Aemond but, the night carries on. Everything fine for a few more moments until all hell broke loose with Aemond’s final tribute.

-

The quiet of the Red Keep during the night is a stark contrast to its bustling nature throughout the day. The only sounds being the echo of your shoes on the stone pavements as you navigate the secret passageways back to your room. The long walk much needed to clear your thoughts after the turn supper had taken and then the argument with your mother and Daemon that followed.

While you thought the obvious outcome would be to call off your betrothal to Aemond after the insults flung at your brothers, your mother thought otherwise with the seeming resurgence of her friendship with Alicent.

The heavy door creaks on its hinges and closes with a dull thud as you try but fail to be quiet, hoping that no one in your family would hear it from their rooms. But that becomes the furthest thing from your mind when Aemond Targaryen is sitting in front of the fireplace of your room.

“I do believe you have a fireplace in your own rooms,” you quip.

Crossing the room to the large bed, you finger at the night gown laid out by your handmaidens – all of them now gone to bed due to the late hour.

“It’s dangerous enough as it is to be wondering the grounds of the Red Keep during the hour of the owl and yet you also insist on doing it alone,” he scolds from where he sits, gaze fixed intensely on the flames and ignoring your earlier comment.

You breathe a short laugh.

“and yet,” you mock. “I wasn’t alone, was I?”

Turning to face him, he’s already looking back at you as your fingers close around the end of the bedframe.

“Mmm… someone has to look out for you.”

“Is that what you call it?” you narrow your eyes at him, fingers now tapping irritably against the wooden frame.

“If you have something to say… say it,” Aemond taunts.

You open your mouth ready to fire back but, hesitate. In your sober state, you were able to actually hold a conversation but, you didn’t hold the same bravado you did earlier in the evening and quite frankly you just wanted to sleep. You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and sweeping your hair over your shoulder.

“Help me undress, my handmaidens have gone to bed,” you call him over.

You wait patiently, tension thickening as he gets closer, each step heavy and purposeful. When his fingers brush at the hair at the base of your neck, goosebumps spread across your skin.

“You anger with me is misplaced,” Aemond mutters gruffly.

He begins to undo the back of your dress, trying to focus on being careful in undoing the intricate design that holds it together and not your exposed skin.

“I hardly think so after what you did at supper earlier tonight.”

“Tonight?” he tuts, his hand pausing to graze the partially exposed skin of your back. “Tonight, is not why you’re angry with me.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his touch. You want to protest but, have no energy to. It would be a losing fight anyway because he’s right, it wasn’t why you were angry with him but, saying it out loud made you feel silly. When you don’t respond, Aemond continues.

“Between the two of us, if anyone should be holding onto anger and grudges it should be me. You did lie about what happened that night Luke took my eye,” he reminds you.

“I made amends for that,” you defend.

“I know. Sapphires. Which I’ve grown quite fond of.”

Sapphires indeed, ones you had sent him in various shapes and sizes in place of his eye. An apology without apologising.

Turning to face him, you place a hand on his chest, the other reaching for his eyepatch. You don’t worry about your dress or dignity, knowing that he hadn’t undone enough of it for it to fall.

You wait for him to pull away from your touch, but he doesn’t. You allow your hand to gently touch the leather eye patch, waiting a beat before finally removing it.  The scar might’ve been hideous on any other face and, it is hideous but, it doesn’t do anything to take away from his appearance. He certainly doesn’t look the beast that so, many claim.

“I loved him truly,” you drop your hands to your side. “the last one that you took from me. He made me happy.”

“Your happiness with him was fleeting,” he utters, eyes trained on you as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand trails down to your cheek, caressing softly before it continues its journey along your jawline and finally resting at the base of your neck.

“So, you can stop feigning anger with me.”

“How did we get here?” you mumble, searching his eyes.

The tension suffocates the two of you. Aemond’s breath fanning across your lips and, you don’t even know when he got so close. His lips ghost yours and you involuntarily lean into him but, you're held back by his hand that has snaked its way from the front of your neck to the back.

“We loved one another once. We will learn to love one another again,” and with that Aemond closes the distance between your lips.

The kiss is desperate but tender and, he holds you to him like he will never let you go.

For all that he has done, promises that he made to ensure that you would not be happy after undeniably going against him, he still carries a torch for you – his love is not lost and when you kiss him back with as much urgency and fervour, he knows your love for him is not either.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

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