#I don't really know what's going on in his mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 3 days ago

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run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media.

But this time, it’s different – he's alone.

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own.

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace.

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life.

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment.

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t.

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point.

He clears his throat.

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?”

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word.

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?”

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.”

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.”

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?”

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down.

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?”

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut.

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?”

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?”

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.”

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth.

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.”

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.”

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–”

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?”

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.”

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–”

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.”

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before.

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–”

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–”

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation.

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.”

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—”

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–”

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.”

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp.

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you.

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.”

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him.

And Lewis knows it.

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind.

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender.

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe.

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel.

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent.

“Act like this changes everything.”

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words.

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.”

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears.

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters.

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.”

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.”

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?”

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it.

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist.

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.”

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest.

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you.

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.”

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.”

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.”

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.”

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.”

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.”

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?”

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.”

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory.

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.”

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning.

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body.

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?”

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.”

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?”

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.”

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.”

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation.

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.”

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing.

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-”

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.”

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.”

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now.

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.”

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe.

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly.

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core.

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead.

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.”

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling.

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender.

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you.

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat.

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness.

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.”

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading.

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment.

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride.

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest.

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?”

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.”

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.”

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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unluckilyimnot · 2 days ago

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Habits bllk boy

Characters: sae, rin, chigiri, reo, nagi, otoya, isagi, kaiser

Fluff / no tw / 900+

Note: I'd like to know what you like me doing the most, hc, os (long or short), one character or even multi fandom? I'm curious!

m.list | rules

Sae - doing his skin care with you

If you don't have a skin care routine, then now you do. He's really serious about this, and you probably get tired of getting side eyes all the time. It's nothing much yet it makes him feel good, sharing simple moments like those is precious to him with his busy life. That's how he prefers his night to start, whenever with music – yours or his – or without ; he's just next to you, watching you putting product after product on your skin and there's almost the shadow of a smile on his lips. Bonus points to the night where you two sit in front of a series or a movie with sheet masks on and snacks next to you.

Rin - listening to your music with you

He could easily put his headphones on while you put your music on while getting ready or doing your makeup – if you do wear some – but he actually likes knowing what you're listening to. It's kind of intimate to him, he likes to share his music with you as much as he likes knowing what you like. He even has a playlist composed only with music from yours and he wishes you never found out (you already did). Along with that, he's obviously the type to make you a playlist when he feels like it or when he misses you.

Isagi - checks on you

He's a little anxious about everything, nothing crazy but I feel like he's the tense one before traveling you see ? Well because of that, Isagi will always make sure you're at ease, feeling good, stay hydrated, and put sunscreen on. You almost fell ? He grabbed your arm and then never let your hand go. He's always asking you if you're good, probably over a hundred times a day. He just wants you to be safe. He's extra caring and comprehensive when you're tired or overstimulated and you end up annoying or cold. He doesn't mind much, he just wants to make it easier for you.

Otoya - have a hair tie just in case you need it

The second your hair is long enough to be tied, he has one around his wrist. He knows you have one too, but he also knows that you share yours a lot and don't always get it back so he's there for that. The second he notices that your hair is bothering you, he doesn't hesitate to put it behind your ear or tie it for you. He loves the texture of your hair between/against his fingers, and the scent when it just got washed. He generally really loves your hair, so he's always here to hand you a hair tie.

Kaiser - leans his hand next to yours

He's not gonna take your hand just like that, no matter how people think he will, I'm sure he won't because he prefers when you're the one who catches his hand. It makes him feel wanted, needed and Gods know it wasn't always the case with closed ones. Letting it lands oh so close to yours, just so your picky are touching in a feather like manners, yet he doesn't move any more closer to your hand, patiently waiting for you to break and hold his hand, winning a so prideful smirk as he look at you with a look you know too well.

Nagi - lean on you when he's tired

You can be laying in bed, up pouring yourself a drink ans looking for snacks – anywhere in the house, Nagi will find you and lean onto your shoulders as if he was the small one in the relationship. You might think he's cute, he is, but he always make sur to put half his weight on you, crashing you behind him so you HAVE to go to bed so you don't die because of it. He does it outside as well but it's less harming. He simply leans in his head on your shoulder, wraps his arms around your waist if you're up and whines because he's tired and wants to go home. People find it endearing a lot – let alone when you shuffle his perfect white hair with a soft smile, telling him you'll be leaving soon.

Reo - get you something to drink

You're busy, he knows that better than anyone else, and if you're not he'd rather have you resting so it's his duty to take care of you. It doesn't matter if he has to order it in a coffee shop or to make one himself for you while you're at his place or his staying at yours, he'll make you something hot to drink before you can even think about how you need it. He'll get a tea pot ready for you, already sweetened if that's how you take it – same for coffee. He'll be kind but demanding toward anyone making your drink, making sure it's done well but will always leave a huge tip because that's what you'll do.

Chigiri - wash your hair for you

Chigiri likes his privacy but less when it comes to you, so it doesn't happen all the time but you two regularly take shower/bath together. That's when he started to wash your hair for you. That way he can take care of it and treat it nicely because he knows you don't always have the energy to do so. You'll always have a nice scalp massage that makes you mmh in satisfaction and he's always gonna laugh at it a little. But he loves it a lot because he gets to see you relax under his fingers after a long day and that's enough for him.

Let me know if you liked it !

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parfaitblogs · 13 hours ago

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hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you.

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now.

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust.

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it.

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening.

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed.

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you.

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway.

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose?

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it.

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features.

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door.

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways.

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him.

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says.

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash.

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back.

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!"

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier.

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest.

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back.

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears.

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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peachesofteal · 12 hours ago

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I know Azriel has amassed a ton of wealth over centuries from doing the dirtiest work, and rarely spends it. He's never really had a need to. Of course, he buys gifts for his family, covers tabs at Rita's, buys himself things, essentials, etc but when it comes to spending for enjoyment or spending to indulge, it just doesn't happen.

He's not looking for reasons, either, until he literally stumbles into one.

You trip and fall into him in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Trip over something on the ground, get twisted up, and flail forward, right into his path. You're rose and pink pepper, floral, sharp, sweet in a way he cannot fathom, and he doesn't think before stopping your fall. He just reacts, grabbing you around the arms and pulling you upright, holding you steady as you recalibrate your balance, looking up into his face, eyes shining bright like the stars. They're brilliant, full of life, but lined with an undercurrent of stress, of worry, he does not understand.

You're fumbling over an apology as he studies you, scrutinizing every detail on your face, down to the chap of your lips.

He's never seen a High Fae look so... off before, and they're not known to be clumsy.

"Are you alright?" It's polite to inquire, he assures himself, it's the right thing to do.

"I'm fine," you smile but it doesn't touch your eyes, "thanks. Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going." He's unsure what to say next but before he can come up with something, you're giving him a quick thank you, and then disappearing into market.

He thinks about you that night. Wonders about you, as he stares at the bedroom ceiling. You obviously weren't well. Maybe he should have done more. It's his duty, isn't it? To Velaris? To care for it and its citizens, to protect them. Or at least, you. Do something to care for you, protect you.

He's not sure what to do, so he pushes the lingering questions from his mind.

And then the following week, he sees you at Rita's.

You're waiting tables, waltzing across the floor delivering drinks with a smile, the same one that slips away as soon as you're out of sight. Your shoulders slump as you stand at the corner of the bar, covering your mouth with your palm, yawning into it again and again.

Maybe he should do something, maybe you need a healer, maybe he could help-

No. He shouldn't. You probably wouldn't want him to, anyway. Right?

He shakes it off, tries to shake you off but can't stop himself from watching every step you take, trying to diagnose the problem.

It takes too long for it to click.

You're not sick, or clumsy.

You're exhausted, and it makes him irrationally angry, fills him with a need to drag you away from Rita's and tuck you up into a house somewhere, a place you'll never have to lift a finger again if you so choose. A place where you could be taken care of-

maybe even by him.

It takes him very little time to find the ramshackle duplex you live in on the outskirts of town, the roof too sloped, the wooden steps too rotted, the siding too loose.

It makes him uneasy, makes his skin crawl. Why are you here, in a place like this? Who has allowed this?

Why does a place like this even exist when Velaris has such wealth?

He begins to play a game, and at first, he tells himself it's to make himself feel better, that he's doing it for selfish reasons.

It's winter, and you don't have gloves, so he buys a pair and the shadows deposit them on your front step, and it makes the sick feeling in his stomach go away. For a few days.

When it returns, he buys you a hat, and this time, he delivers it himself, eager to see your reaction.

He doesn't expect to see the gloves still sitting on the porch, and he frowns. Did you not see them? Did you not like them? He leaves the hat at their side and lurks on the roof of the house across from yours, hiding in shadow, in wait.

The sun is still rising when you leave for your first job of the day, and you stop short at the sight of the hat. He perks up, expecting to see you relax with relief, or happiness, but is left confused when you hold the hat in your hands for a moment, reverently tracing the stitching, before dropping it back next to the gloves.

Why? You need these things. They're being given anonymously, alleviating some of awkwardness of accepting gifts, and he had hoped it would spare you from feelings of obligation or embarrassment. Perhaps you are too proud, he wonders, but shadows echo a different sentiment, one of distrust, of wariness.

The gifts scare you.

The guilt churns the bile in his stomach, and he flexes his fingers into fists before flying away, cursing himself the whole way home.

Idiot.

You're very surprised when he approaches you on your walk from the Palace to Rita's, so much so that you jerk to a dead stop, staring at him with your mouth dropped open as he tries to explain he has something to give you.

Yes, he knows you don't know him. Yes, he's aware how strange this is.

Yes, you will be taking this scarf whether you like it or not.

"I'm sorry?"

"This is for you." He extends the scarf towards you, holding his breath. Your eyes narrow.

"Have you been leaving things on my porch?"

"Yes." There's no point in lying. He's standing here trying to gift you a scarf, for Cauldron's sake.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, anxious, and he wishes there was a way he could reassure you without frightening you further.

"You needed them." It comes off as arrogant, but he doesn't care. He's getting to the point where he's past caring, where he's past watching you freeze and work yourself to the bone. His jaw is clenched so tight the muscles are straining, and it takes effort to steady his voice. "You're freezing."

"I-"

"I want you to have this." Just take it. The shadows skitter around him, trawling across the brick to where you stand, and you glance at them briefly, surprisingly unafraid, before looking back at him. He expects a fight, some kind of resistance, but it's all been bled dry. The only thing he sees is defeat, and it stings. You're suffering, you're suffering and he's got everything he could ever want, material wise, and then some. "Please," he murmurs, stepping forward, and you shake your head.

"I shouldn't."

"It's just a gift, I don't expect anything in return."

"You say that now." Your voice trembles. Anger cracks like lightning through his veins. Is this what you fear? A transaction? An exchange for help? There are only so many things one could want in a situation like this, and all of the them fill him with rage.

"I promise you," his voice is steel, firm and unrelenting, "I want nothing in return."

"You promise." It's not a question, and you won't meet his gaze, but he pushes on.

"I do." You reach for it hesitantly and wrap it around your neck, tucking your chin into the softly spun wool, cheeks lifting in a very small, shy smile. Good girl.

He chose perfectly. It complements your skin, your eyes, illuminates your already striking beauty.

"I... thank you. This is really nice. It's lovely." The shadows hum, and he secretly preens, the warmth in his chest spreading as you tell him your name.

"I'm Azriel," he says in return, and you nod.

"I know." You sigh, and look past him, down the street to where he knows your work awaits. "I have to go."

Or he could take you. It's tempting, so, so tempting. It's wicked, and rotten, but satisfying at the same time, and it soothes the reckless pieces of him calling out to you.

No. He shouldn't. He settles on a different course instead.

"I'll see you soon." Your brow furrows.

"You will?" He nods, spreading his wings, preparing to launch into the sky, pleased by how you marvel at them.

"And you'll wear both the gloves and hat when you're outside from now on." Your lips part with surprise. "Yes?" It takes a beat, and then two-

"Yes."

#aka sugar daddy Azriel and sugar baby reader but it's not sex based - mostly. okay a little I guess #peaches writes #azriel x reader #hope you're hungry #for nothing #unedited

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toxicanonymity · 3 days ago

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forest floor

(early) raider!Joel x f!reader - 1360 words

A/N: Can read alone, but in series context, this answers, when sweet pea escapes, what if Joel finds her before fedra does? The smut is greatly enhanced by this media. Ty anon. I also wanna shoutout those asks who wanted this before.

WARNINGS: 18+ angst, pursuit, inner conflict, manhandling, dubcon unsafe piv, hair pulling, spit, choking adjacent.

You can't take anything from Joel Miller. When he sees you're missing, his stomach drops. His face gets cold, all his muscles tense. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, then cracks his neck with a sharp tilt of his head. He can't believe you would do this. Someone must have taken you. He has half a mind to go into the house and do a head count, see who else is missing. But there's no time for that. Not a second to waste.

He scans the treeline. That's where someone would go if they were smart. That's where they'd take you if they didn't want the wrath of God, and worse - the wrath of Joel. With his rifle on his back, arms pumped up, he heads into the woods, stalking you like an animal - eyes wide open, cursing his impaired hearing. He'll find them. Them. You couldn't have run, that's not how things are. He takes care of you, protects you, and you know it's for your own good. He can tell by the way you tilt your hips for him, push back on him, and sigh. He can tell 'cause in your sleep, you feel safe in his arms. You'll even lay your little hand on his arm sometimes.

When Joel the hunter calls out, "Stop right there," you're not running as fast as you can. Not even close. "Don't wanna hurt ya," he booms. "But I will if I have to." You don't want to run, not really, not from Joel. It was a look from Jackson that put you over the edge. You'd already heard him talking about you with his buddy. And then, when Joel was occupied, he came over and stared you down, head to toe. Wet his lips and bit his teeth. "You aren't supposed to look at me," you reminded him. He snickered quietly, took a step back, looking at your body, then turned and left you alone.

You want to believe Joel can protect you. But the feeling that you *should* run still pulls at you. How could you willingly stay, surrounded by all these disgusting men who look at you like a piece of meat to carve up? You *have to* run, just this once. And if you aren't meant to escape, you'll get caught. And you'll be good for him. If he lets you, you realize and your mouth goes dry. Your stomach twists at the realization that if he can't have you, surely no one can. You stumble and trip on a fallen branch.

You start to get up, and hear a click that makes you sick. Hit with a tsunami of regret, you hang your head. Why'd you do this? The snap of twigs under his heavy boots looms closer. You collapse into the ground and he says, "Stay."

His faint shadow eclipses you, obscured mostly by the forest, but you can make out a tilt of his head before he drops to his knees, straddling you. His hand clamps around the back of your neck. “What the hell are ya doin’? Tryin’ to get bit or worse?”

I'm sorry,” you choke out into the leaves tickling your mouth.

“Don't you move an inch.” He grabs the back of your shirt as though it's the scruff of your neck, and when he's lifted your chest up, he wraps an arm around it. He gropes your breast, and desire swells in your loins. Maybe he'll just fuck you, if you're lucky.

He manhandles you, flipping you over into your back, then wraps his hand under your chin. Not a full-on choke, but a threat. His head hovers over yours with eyes like dark thunderheads. A breeze rustles the leaves and it feels like the wind of a storm.

“I'm sorry,” you repeat.

He studies your face and repeats, “you're sorry,” with a dismissive nod.

“God *damnit*, sweet pea.” The pet name gives you hope. He squeezes a little tighter. Even then, it doesn't feel like he wants to hurt you. You even wonder if he knows he's putting pressure in just the right place to feel a little good. But his eyes tell a different story - it's not about making you feel good. His voice becomes calm, but grave. "You ain't gonna try this again," he warns.

"I won't," you whisper. "I wasn't thinking straight." His nose twitches with a snarl as he searches your eyes. He punctuates the warning with a tighter squeeze, and you cough.

His hand leaves your neck and urgently undoes your pants. “How sorry are ya?” He asks darkly as he yanks them down.

“Real sorry,” you answer, “I dunno what I was thinking, I-”

“Lost your goddamn mind,” he answers as he pulls your pants off, and your panties along with them. He throws them aside with disgust that he even has to mess with them. He lets you keep the shoes, and it makes you wonder if he’s not going to let you put your pants back on. Is he going to take you back to the house like this? Your shirt will probably cover you, but...

"There's dangerous people out here," he says.

Joel pulls down his own jeans, freeing his fat cock, mostly erect. You bend your knees up and make room for him. By habit you expect to earn a good girl, but you don't deserve one, not right now.

He slams all the way into you with a grunt, propelling you back a couple of inches, leaves clinging to your hair as your head slides across them. You wince with the burn, but you're wetter than you think you should be, and it doesn't take long for your body to catch up, even though he allows you no time. He lets out an animalistic grunt with each thrust. His first few thrusts aren't fast but they're sharp and deep, so deep, like he's stabbing you with his cock. He pauses and dick throbs against your tight walls and further stiffens, grows, full mast.

Then he picks up the pace and doesn't let up on the power. As he fucks you, he gets even stiffer, louder, more animalistic. He pounds you hard and rough, balls slapping against you. He's feral and loud. He looks down at your body, not at your eyes. He slows down only to pull your shirt up over your tits and watches them bounce with each thrust. When he does look at your face, he scowls. He grabs a fist full of your hair, holding it tight in his fist with his forearm braced on the ground. He growls, "you're mine."

Then he bottoms out brutally and his other hand squeezes your jaw so your mouth opens. He spits, and you nearly choke on his spit. As you swallow, he says, "don't you ever forget it."

He growls and grunts and pounds you deep and sharp, unrelenting in pace and power. Your walls give a warning twitch, and you're torn between letting yourself cum or not - on one hand, maybe it'd calm him down. On the other hand, you're ashamed--too bad, turns out you can't help it. You hold your lips together as it begins then release them with a sigh as your climax continues.

He doesn't let up at first. But as you squeeze his cock, his breathing changes, and soon his grunts turn into moans as he erupts. Even his moans are animalistic, vibrating like the growl of a bear. His face is still mad, but begins to soften as he finishes, leaving your insides warmly coated with his seed.

He pulls out right away and quickly puts it back in his pants, before putting yours on, nothing gentle about it. He gets up and manhandles you to your feet, and with a firm hand around your arm, he marches you forward, back up the hill toward the house. His voice is dark - "We'll talk about this later."

You can feel it - there's something worse to come. You can't take anything from Joel. Can't ever take anything that's his. Especially not yourself.

-----

Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback means a lot to me if you're able 🙏🏼 your casual comment could help give me the energy and confidence to write my next fic. Love y'all. 🖤

#dark!joel miller #raider!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️

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airaatsu · 2 days ago

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Hiii, I really loved your first fic!!! I was wondering if you could do another threesome request with se-mi again and dae-ho this time 🙈. my absolute faves

Could be with se-mi and reader already being a thing but her gf has a crush on cute little dae-ho. Flirting and teasing him throughout the games while se-mi watches her gf get what she wants.

Dae ho finally gets the pretty girl but doesn’t realize he has to share until he hears her whimper for her pretty gf to join them ;)

«—Se-mi x F!Reader x Dae-ho—»

⁍Sharing is Caring⁌

Summary: Se-mi notices how her girlfriend currently has a crush on Dae-ho. Instead of getting mad and jealous as you suspected she would, she encourages you to hang out with him. Things take a turn and the two of them end up sharing you. Dae-ho and Se-mi reaches an agreement. Se-mi loves seeing her girlfriend get everything she wants, after all, it's what you deserve;)

A/N: This request was in my inbox for like, 2 days? 😭 I'm sorry this took so long😭😭🏃‍♀️💨 Anyway, hope you guys would enjoy this‼️ I'll be working on another fic later, pray I won't get writer's block🥲 (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES🤕)

Warnings: NSFW, p in v, creampie, fingerfucking, handjob, SMUTTTTT

Se-mi leaned against one of the metal beds. Her gaze lingering on you a bit longer, watching you stare at someone from that man, Gi-hun's group. She continued to stare at you before she let out a sigh, when you didn't seem to notice, she sat down next to you and let out another louder sigh.

"What is it?" You murmured, sitting up straight as you faced her. "What do you mean." Se-mi looked away, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "You've been sighing since earlier. What is it?"

"I don't know. Why were you staring so much at that guy." She questioned, glancing at the group you were staring at earlier. A small pout forming on her lips. You peeked at them over your shoulder before looking back Se-mi, raising a questioning brow at her. "Are you jealous?" You teased, smirking as you poked at her sides.

"No I'm not." She shot you a glare before her gaze softened, grabbing your hands to stop them from poking her. "Why don't you just talk to him? That guy- Dae-ho or whatever his name is." She stood. "Se-mi.. you're not mad?" You asked, stuffing your hands in your pockets. She scoffed,"Mad? Why would I be." She replied, flicking her finger on your nose. You giggled, playfully pushing her. "Maybe because we're in a relationship? And I'm having a crush on someone?" You stood up. Wrapping your arm around hers.

"I'm not mad at you, babe.. besides, I'm quite good at sharing." Se-mi leaned closer, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips before pulling back. "If you really want him, go for it. I don't mind sharing my princess, and it's better with him than those.." She glanced at the purple haired man across the room from them, with that friend of his that was also a drug addict. "Assholes.."

"What do you think, babe?" Se-mi smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, shaking your head. "Of course! Thank you!" You pulled her in a hug, peppering kisses on her face. Causing her to laugh at your sudden display of affection. "Alright, alright. Now go get pretty boy." She sighs, nudging you back into the direction of the group Dae-ho is in.

You and Dae-ho hit it off quite well. Perfect, really. He was such a cutie, a gentleman too. The way he blushed when you would tease and flirt with him even during the games was simply too adorable for you. The way he would look away and pull up the zipper of his jacket, causing the fabric to ride up and hide the lower half of his face whenever you teased him made you giggle. Right now, you were sitting beside him wuth his teammates. You listened to them talk and plan for the next game, but you couldn't help your attention being drawn to someone from across the room. Turning your head, you lock eyes with your girlfriend. Se-mi has been keeping her eyes on you ever since you approached Dae-ho. Watching the both of you converse, how your hand would linger on his arm a bit too long for it to be friendly. But she wasn't jealous, no, Se-mi could never be jealous because of that. Instead, she was enjoying the scene. It filled her with pride seeing how her princess could literally pull anyone without even trying much. The way Dae-ho looked at you was already a clear sign that you've already won his heart over with just a few touch and your sweet words. Whenever you giggled or laugh, Se-mi could see Dae-ho's eyes soften and a smile forming on his lips. Who could help it though? You're beautiful, she could see that, anyone and everyone could see that.

You didn't even know how you got here. Well, maybe you did.. making up an excuse to the guard and managing to sneak into the bathroom with Dae-ho in tow was something you thought would never happen. You were just going to tease him more, flirt with him, some subtle touches here and there. You never thought things would get too heated. But then it did. So here you are now, bent over one of the sinks. You're arms could barely hold yourself together, head dangling between your shoulders as Dae-ho's hips snapped against your own. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the empty bathroom save for you two. His left hand snaked from your hips to your neck, his hand wrapped around it, but he made sure it didn't hurt nor suffocate you. He pulled your head back gently, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Making you looked at your fucked out face, remnants of tear stains could be seen on your cheeks. You whimpered out his name, feeling his cock throb and twitch inside you. Dae-ho groaned into the nape of your neck, biting down on the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to break skin. He gave your warm, gushing cunt one last sloppy thrust before you felt hot, thick liquid filling you up. Moaning out his name as you came around his cock, a white ring forming on the base of his dick while he continued to thrust in and out of you slowly, helping you come down from your high. He didn't even seem to notice the bathroom door open and close, not until you whimpered out a name.

"..Se-mi..!" You whimpered, your legs trembled, you would've collapsed on the floor if it wasn't for Dae-ho holding you by your hips. Keeping you steady. "Se-mi? Who.. why is she here?" Dae-ho whispered, glancing between you and at the newcomer. Confusion written all over his face. "Hm, you seem to be enjoying yourself, baby." Se-mi smiled, walking over to the two of you. She raised her hand, taking ahold of your chin, tilting it up a bit so you could look at her properly. "You can't even look at me properly, did pretty boy here fuck you that good?" She teased, using her thumb to wipe away the remnants of your tears on your cheeks. "What's happening here?" Dae-ho sounded super confused. His hips still connected to yours.

"Oh, did princess here not tell you?" Se-mi tore her eyes away from you and lands it on the man. "Tell me what?" Dae-ho questioned.

"That you're gonna have to share her." She replied, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. "Like I shared her to you."

All three of your jackets were now laid on the floor. With you laying on your back on the fabrics. You moaned into Se-mi's mouth, legs wrapped around her hips, her fingers stuffed inside your cunt, Dae-ho's cum oozing out of your tight heat while she pumped her fingers in snd out of you, her thumb flicking over your oversensitive clit. Making your melt under her touch. Meanwhile, Dae-ho was thrusting into your fist. The two of them seemed to have reached an agreement, that the two of them shared you.

"Come on, baby, you can give me one more, hm?" Se-mi whispered so sweetly into your ear,"Pretty boy here looks close too, seems like your hand just feels that good." She smirked, burying her face into the crook of your neck. Nibbling and kissing your neck, leaving subtle marks on the sensitive skin. You didn't last much longer, not with how Dae-ho fucked you earlier, and now with Se-mi.. you were just too sensitive. You came around Se-mi's fingers, making a mess on her hand. Dae-hi didn't last much longer as well, that much you can tell, his cock twitched, spurting out ropes of warm cum on your face.

Now you were an absolute mess.. but you know you love it.

#airaa.writes #squid game x reader #se mi x reader #dae ho x reader #wlw #squid game 2

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bsturnzmtts · 3 days ago

Text

Needy

From older bf! Matt x sweetheart! Reader

Continuation of Innocent touches

Contains/warnings: making out, virgin! shy! Reader, fingering, oral f receiving, pet names, praising, slight overstimulation

It’s been a week, and you can’t stop thinking about what happened last time… how good it felt. The thought lingers, making your heart race, but you don’t know how to bring it up to Matt. You’re not sure if you’re ready to lose your virginity, but you can’t ignore the ache to feel that close to him again. And yet, a small part of you feels guilty, like you haven’t given him enough in return.

You and Matt are lying side by side on his bed, the quiet of the room making everything feel a little more intimate. You’re trying to stay focused on the conversation, but it’s hard with how close he is. Every time his hand brushes yours, your heart races, and you can feel your face getting warm. You subtly move a little closer, hoping he doesn’t notice, but of course, Matt catches it. He glances at you with a sly smile, his tone playful but soft. “You seem a little distracted,” he says, his voice low, as if he knows exactly what’s going on.

Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away, not sure how to explain the nervous energy building up inside you. “Oh- no no.. sorry, continue.”

Matt chuckles softly, his hand moving to rest on your leg, his thumb gently tracing circles on your skin. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "You sure? Because it feels like there's something on your mind."

You freeze, your heart racing as you try to steady your breathing. “N-No, it’s nothing,” you stammer, feeling the warmth of his hand on your leg making it even harder to think straight.

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly on your leg, his thumb continuing to draw lazy circles on your skin. He tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and soothing. “You sure? You’re blushing, sweetheart.”

Your fingers twitch, wanting to hide your face but unable to move away from him. “I-I don’t know what you mean…”

He chuckles softly, moving his hand slightly higher up your thigh, not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to make you notice. "You don't have to be nervous around me. Whatever it is... you can tell me."

You feel a shiver run through you at the gentle pressure of his hand, your pulse quickening as he continues to trace soft circles. “Nothing… I just think you look really good today.” Your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your body betraying you with every passing second.

Matt's lips curve into a warm, pleased smile at your shy compliment. He’s clearly enjoying your flustered state but not pushing any further. He shifts closer to you, eliminating the last bit of space between your bodies. His hand, still resting on your thigh, gives it a light, appreciative squeeze. "Thank you... you look really beautiful today too." He moves closer, his face inches from yours, he pulls you into a kiss.

You immediately start kissing him back, like you needed to taste his lips.

As the kiss deepens, Matt's hand on your thigh slowly begins to slide upwards, his touch gentle and unhurried. He takes his time exploring your mouth with his own, savoring the feeling of your lips pressed against his.

You can feel your panties getting wetter and wetter as the kiss keeps going. You can’t help squeeze your thighs together. Your body just did it, not even thinking that Matt's hands are there.

Feeling the movement of your thighs, Matt breaks the kiss and looks at you with a knowing smile. He gently pushes your legs apart, settling his hand between your thighs. "Sweetheart, you're soaked," he says, his voice low and amused.

The sudden touch makes you gasp, your breath catching in your throat. You can feel the heat spreading through your body, your thoughts momentarily scrambling. “Matt…” you whisper, your voice trembling, not sure whether you’re pleading for more or begging for him to stop.

He gently rubs your clit through your soaked panties, his touch light and teasing. "Shh, just relax," he whispers back, his eyes locked on yours. "I've got you." He leans in to kiss you again, his fingers continuing to rub your clit in slow, circular motions.

You try your best to hide your moans and whimpers but miserably fail. “I—” You swallow, trying to find your voice. “I don’t know what I want…” Your body starts squirming with pleasure.

Matt smiles against your lips, his fingers never stopping their gentle rubbing. "You don't have to know," he whispers back, his free hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair. "I know exactly what you want." He kisses you deeply, his fingers increasing their pressure slightly as he rubs your clit.

You moan at his words and dominance. Without even thinking your hips buck against his hand.

His low chuckle vibrates against your lips as he continues to tease you. His fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties, finally touching bare skin. "Look at you, getting so needy..." His voice is a husky whisper, clearly enjoying your reactions.

“Oh Matt” moans are coming out of your mouth as you roll your eyes in pleasure.

His fingers slide down, parting your folds and slowly entering you. He begins to pump them in and out, his thumb continuing to circle your clit. His other hand grips your hip, holding you still. "So tight and wet for me,"

“Mmh fuck”

He smirks at your curse, his fingers curling slightly inside you to hit that sweet spot. He leans in to suck on your neck, marking you as he continues to finger you. "Such a dirty mouth on you, sweetheart,"

“Mmh M-Matt I think-” that now familiar knot starts forming on your stomach.

He notices the change in your body and pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and sucking your juices off them.

“Mmh noo, why did you stop?” You whine.

Matt chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye. "Patience, sweetheart. I'm not about to leave you hanging." He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I just want to taste you properly."

You frown your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand moves between your legs again, gently stroking your soaked panties. “Lie back," he commands softly, already moving down your body. "Spread your legs for me." His tone is gentle but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down. "I'm going to lick this pretty pussy until you come all over my face." He starts placing soft kisses along your inner thighs.

You gasp at his words and actions. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing as you feel his hot breath getting closer.

He settles between your legs, pushing them wider apart. His thumbs spread your folds open, revealing your swollen clit. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beautiful," He presses a gentle kiss right above your clit, making you gasp. "Look at how swollen you are for me," His tongue makes a single slow pass over your clit, making you arch your back "So sweet..."

“Matt mmh” it felt amazing, you’ve never felt this good before.

He starts lavishing attention on your clit with his tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. His fingers slide inside you again, finding that spot that drives you wild. Every time you moan, he groans against your pussy, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. "You're doing so well, sweetheart," He whispers against your sensitive skin, his breath hot and teasing.

“It feels so good Matt” you moan as you arch your back further. And your hands move down to his hair.

He feels your hands in his hair, tugging gently as you arch your back making him growl softly, the sound sending shivers through your body. He buries his face between your legs, eating at your pussy like a starving man. "Fuck, you taste so good," He curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes his knees buckle underneath him.

“Oh god mh Matt I’m close.” you whimper.

Presses harder on your clit with his tongue, moving his fingers faster inside you "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste it all." His other hand moves to your stomach, pressing down gently to keep you from bucking away from his mouth "Come all over my face."

“Fuck Matt mmh” finally you feel that knot release at your body shakes slightly.

As your orgasm hits, he continues lapping at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. He moans against you, clearly delighted by your intense response. "That's it, fuck yes," he praises, his voice muffled by your thighs. He grabs your thighs tightly as he continues to suck on your clit.

“Mmh no Matt mh I- I’m sensitive” you let out and your thighs try to close.

He ignores your pleas, keeping your thighs spread wide as he continues his feast. "Shh, you can take it," He growled possessively, his hands tightening on your thighs to keep them open. He sucks on your swollen bud, drawing out another whimper from you.

“Fuck pl-please stop” you bed as your hips buck in overstimulation.

He finally relents, releasing your clit and leaning back with a smug grin. His lips and chin glisten with your juices. "You taste divine, sweetheart." He gives one last teasing lick, making you shudder. Rising up, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Mh” you kiss back tasting yourself. “Thank you Matt…”

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. "No, thank you, I could eat you out all night.” He murmurs, his breath hot on your skin.

You blush slightly at his words and get nervous again. “Matt..”

Sensing your nervousness, he pulls back slightly and cups your face gently. "Hey, look at me." His thumb brushes your cheek soothingly. "We don't have to do anything else you're not comfortable with, okay?"

You look away feeling even more nervous and guilty you haven’t given him anything. “But… what about you?”

He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "What about me?" His expression is soft, with no hint of frustration or demand. "Don't worry about me right now." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I just wanted to make you feel good. If you're worried about returning the favor, don't be. I'm happy just making you come undone like that."

“Are you sure?”

He smiles reassuringly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes. You don't owe me anything. I like spoiling you and making you feel good, okay?" He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. "Let's just cuddle for a bit, hmm?"

Taglist: @blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

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@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

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kikidoul · 1 day ago

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── STRESS RELIEF.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing pussy eating fingering begging sunghoon being a tease and wear glasses (need this man so bad). . .!? 1445 — mlist.

note. this is just a reupload because i'm proud of this fic hehe and i believe in glasses sunghoon supremacy.

Ever since you stumbled upon your boyfriend wearing a pair of thinly-framed glasses, you couldn’t get the sight out of your mind. As far as you were aware, it has been three weeks and it was still imprinted in your head, not having any intention of leaving you alone. You groaned, running a hand through your hair in a poor attempt of calming yourself but it was futile. The words reflected on the screen of your laptop don't make sense anymore, not when you’ve been on the same page for the past hour.

“(Name), darling, you need to take a break.”

You looked up to see Sunghoon had entered your room. He was dressed comfortably; a white long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black sweatpants. And of course, he was wearing glasses that perfectly rested on the bridge of his nose. The sight of the accessory was enough to make you gulped. He chuckled at your silence and how you were shamelessly ogling him. He steps closer, stopping until he is before you.

“What’s in your mind, pretty girl?” He asks, reaching out to gently cup your face with his hands. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the contact and you couldn’t help but leaned into his touch, shoulders sagging slightly.

“Nothing, I’m just stressed,” you replied, savoring the way Sunghoon caressed your face with his thumbs.

“Poor thing, do you want me to help?” He asks.

You shook your head. “No, I can manage—”

“Oh, I’m not talking about your work,” he interrupts, mischief seeping into his voice. You gulped when you recognized the familiar glint in his eyes and that was the only warning you got.

Your lips were captured in a fiery kiss and you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed back until your back was uncomfortably digging into the edge of the table. Sunghoon had to lean down to kiss you, making him strain his back but he didn’t care. Nothing is important when it comes to pleasuring you. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon carried you in his arms, moving you to the bed where he gently laid you down on the mattress. The feeling of being in your boyfriend’s arms made you feel safe and protected; a feeling you had came to cherish.

You made a noise of protest when he pulled away. You raised your head, desperate for his lips but Sunghoon moved, leaning his head back.

“Hoonie, why?” You whined.

He coos, leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m helping you to relieve your stress. So just sit back and let me do the work, alright?”

Huffing, you obeyed and moved to lay in a comfortable position. You watched with bated breath as Sunghoon shifted down, spreading your legs apart. He easily pulled down the pair of shorts you were wearing, tossing them to the floor, leaving you in your panties. Your ears turned red when you realized you were soaked. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, who arched an eyebrow.

“Did you get turned on just from kissing? Or is it something else?” He grins knowingly, fingers tracing the hem of your panties before he slid it down, leaving you completely bare underneath him. No matter how many times you’ve done this, he couldn’t get enough of how stunning you looked.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you replied, your face turning as red as a tomato with how he maintained eye contact, with the glasses still on as he teasingly ran his fingers along your clit, collecting your essence.

“Really? But I’ve a feeling you know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he hums, wasting no time in sliding two fingers in, groaning at the delirious feeling of your tight, warm walls instantly clenching down on the sudden intrusion.

“Sunghoon—” You moaned, one hand gripping onto the sheets while the other gripped onto the pillow for dear life. You attempted to rock your hips against his fingers but he held you down, restricting you from moving.

“P-Please, don’t tease,” you whimpered, looking at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes.

Being the tease he is, Sunghoon smirks. It was unfair with how attractive he looked at that moment. “Please what, baby?”

“Please touch me,” you pleaded, and the smirk stretched wider.

“But I am touching you. You need to be more specific,” he replied, moving his fingers in a scissor-like motion as he slowly open you, preparing you for what’s to come. Sunghoon wasted no time in finding your weak spot and he ruthlessly abused it, reducing you to a moaning and squirming mess.

“N-No, want your mouth on me—fuck!” You gasped, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when Sunghoon leaned down, running his tongue along your folds, followed by kitten licks. You let out a high-pitched moan at the double penetration; fingers and tongue. It was too much for you to handle and you could feel the familiar tightening of your stomach, a sign you were about to reach your climax, and then—

“What the fuck?” You raised your head, shooting your boyfriend the meanest glare you could muster.

Sunghoon laughs, amused with your reaction. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you and you won’t be looking at me like that anymore.”

He wasted no time in shredding his clothes, shifting to his knees as he still remained in between your legs. You tightened your grip on the pillow, biting down on your bottom lip at the familiar feeling of him pushing himself into you. You whined, getting drunk on the feeling of being split apart despite how you’ve had sex multiple times. When he was completely in, Sunghoon started at a languid pace, although he changed his mind when he heard the melodic sounds dripping from your lips.

Blood rushed to your face as the bed rocked along with your movement. The room was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. You were sure your neighbours will file a noise complaint tomorrow but that was the least of your concerns now. You arch your back off the bed when Sunghoon’s lips latched onto your neck, leaving butterfly kisses and hickeys behind.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” He groans, lips grazing against your neck as he feels the way your walls spasm and contract at every rock of his hips. You whined at the cold frames of his glasses touching your warm skin.

“Hoonie, please, please,” you begged.

“What does my pretty girl want?” He asks, moving his head away so he could admire your face.

“G-Gonna cum, please,” you sobbed, hoping he would show some mercy.

“Is that so? Could you keep your eyes on me when you cum, sweetheart?” He asks, and you eagerly nodded; wanting to please your boyfriend.

It took your remaining strength to keep your eyes open. You pulled him down to kiss him, your tongues meeting in a passionate dance that only lovers would know. You panted against his lips as you reached your climax and Sunghoon was quick to follow suit. Both of you groaned at the feeling of him releasing in you. You laid in a pool of your sweat and other body fluids while your boyfriend slowly pulled out of you, eliciting a hiss at the sudden empty feeling.

He got off the bed, heading to the bathroom to grab some clean towels to wipe you and him off. You were pliant, too exhausted to move an inch as Sunghoon cleaned you off. When he was done, he threw the now dirtied towels into the laundry basket with great accuracy. He grabbed a new set of clothes—his clothes, to be exact and assisted you in putting them on. Sunghoon had to move you away from the bed to get rid of the sheets, much to your annoyance but you knew he was doing this so he wouldn’t get scolded by you tomorrow morning.

Once he was done replacing the sheets and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, both of you were finally able to cuddle together. You rested your head on his chest while Sunghoon drew circles on your arms.

“By the way, I know you find it attractive whenever I wear glasses,” he commented.

Your closed eyes snapped open as you turned to him at lightning speed. “What?”

Sunghoon laughs, poking your nose. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice how often you kept staring at me? You’re not being subtle, especially with the way you stare at me.”

“And how do I stare at you?”

He grins, pulling you closer so he could kiss your lips. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

“Sunghoon!”

#── writings.#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #park sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon smut #enha x reader #enha imagines #sunghoon fanfic #enha hard hours #enha smut

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divinedelusional · 1 day ago

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how rafe would treat his gf on her period

rafe cameron x fem reader

word count: 796

warnings: menstruation, mentions of toxic relationship and period sex

a/n: yeah this is how rafe treats his girl on her period but also how he would be like in a relationship throughout the seasons? i got carried away, sorry not sorry

s1 rafe: sooo i feel like fratboy!rafe genuinely doesn't give a fuck, i don't even know if he would be capable of being in a relationship. i see him being involved with a girl but only for sex and he would only know she's on her period bc she would just text him that they can't meet today bc of it and he'd be like "uh huh cool" and would go jerk off

s2 rafe: here i think situation would be slightly different. i think our psycho bby could acc develop feelings for a girl, it would mostly be just sex but he could start falling for someone. so i think he'd fight a battle in his mind if he should come over to the girl's house and be there for her on her period or to completely neglect her. it's just he doesn't have a clue what to do and tbh he's occupied with other shit, he uses sex with her to forget. i think it's very similar to s1 rafe but with guilt and feelings creeping in (and obvious denial for this emotions)

s3 rafe: so okay we all know the shift from curtain bangs psycho rafey to buzz cut man of the house rafe who looked like he's getting his shit together. of course that means he's different when it comes to relationships. he still deals with a lot, but he finds you. and he kinda sees you as this light. a small light who he has to be very careful with so it won't go out. he is attentive to you. treats you right, but with some sort of distance and you don't blame him. he doesn't spend every day with you, he didn't even ask you to be his girlfriend yet, didn't make it official but he will and somehow you know it. when you're on your period you become quiet. you don't text him, but he finds out as he had a feeling that he should drop by your house. he finds you on your couch with a heating bag and cookies. you told him you weren't feeling well and he ordered you hot soup and made a quick run to pharmacy for some medicine. he still was clueless and thought you caught a cold. "rafe im not sick im just on my period" "oh" it's not like he avoids you, no. he visits you everday for the next four days but doesn't stay for long, always excusing himself with some meeting or business. you know he means the best for you but wish that he's going to be able to let you in soon. you're really patient with him, but start having doubts.

s4 rafe: is now fully committed to you. you talked to him how you really felt about this relationship. that you really cared and wanted to give him as much time as he needed, but also you couldn't waste it anymore waiting for him. and rafe realized that nobody else would have such patience for him. he was thinking about you a lot and he admitted to himself that you were the one. he made your relationship official and two months later you were living together. he was spoiling you, really. taking you on dates, buying you gifts and most importantly giving you his time. getting to know you, observing your daily habits, remembering stuff you said. your likes and dislikes. no wonder he became pussy whipped. and started to feel like he knows you better than yourself.

that's why when it's that time of the month you don't have to say anything. rafe knows. just by the way you whine when you wake up, he knows if you'd be able to get out of bed and get on with your day or you'd want to stay in bed cuddling, because he's your personal heater, makes back pain go away. gives you massages. cuddles with you all morning untill your stomach start to signal that it's time for some food. oh and he doesn't care about his schedule. he could clear it off, cancel the meetings, but he doesn't bother. his girl is the most important, his business associates don't even deserve a phone call on a day his girl is in pain. also he's not opposed to period sex at. all. orgasm is a great way to reduce cramps, so if that works for you and you want him to help you, he is the happiest to do so. if you're not comfortable with having sex these days he totally understands. wouldn't even thought of forcing you to do something, on your period or not. when he discovered that he has so much love in him, his only interest is to give it to you♡

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

tagging: @sugaraanddiesel @cherrylipglossss hope they'll enjoy it and @cameronsprincess bc maybe it will put a smile on her face♡

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fluff #obx fluff

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myllovellybones · 3 days ago

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Aegon giggles as he jumps into your arms, "AUNT!"

AWWW HE'S SO CUTEEE

You kiss his temple and embrace him fondly, "sȳz ñāqes, ñuha valītsos." Good morning, my boy.

I'm absolutely obsessed with how she speaks High Valryian now 😍

"My love," Alicent whispers against his cheek, "aunt has to go-"

My roman empire is how Alicent acts with him before he grows up 🥲

"The prince refuses that I tend to his wounds," the maester says, handing you an iron tray that had both a damp and dry cloth, "he insists only on receiving care for you, my princess."

Dude, really?

He brings your hand to his cheek, "think nothing of it," his eyes are watery. His thumb rubs your skin, "do not pull away."

There's something about seeing him act like this that's just so satisfying

"Then what was your intention then?" you quip, eyes refusing to leave his though it blurred with tears, "if not to sear holes into my heart?"

EXACTLY YOU LITERALLY DID JUST THAT ON ONLY THE FIRST CHAPTER

The thought makes you laugh, so you do. You turn to him, nearly moved to spit at his face. He so brazenly requests such a thing from you when he paid you no heed when you requested the same from him. You do not act beneath yourself though, "iksan daor tetan lēda ao." I am not finished with you.

I am LOVING the way she's finally reached her breaking point and going off on him

He lays you down on the cot and his eyes go wide at the sight of the veins popping out of your neck. He immediately rubs your chest and frantically calls out your name.

UH WHAT NO WHAT'S HAPPENING

Daemon presses his hands atop your ribs and begins to pump your chest. He does this a few times before pinching your nostrils and breathing into your mouth again. He remembered what the Iron Born called it: the kiss of life. He brings to mind the explanation the Iron Born gave when he had asked how he did it.

PLEASE WORK 😭

"Mundagon sodjisto ēdrugon." Sad aunt sleeps.

Stop cause Aegon noticing this just broke my heart

"Gods know how I surely moaned your name in my sleep," he sighs, "... as I fucked other women."

I don't know what I expected.

Your eyes slowly open.

YES HOLY SHIT YES SHE'S ALIVE!!!!!!

You don't. Your hands go to his beaten face. You sigh, "our children."

He momentarily looks at the flower in your hand, "I do not want you to go where I cannot follow."

Crazy how you literally left where she couldn't follow tho.

I LOVE how pathetic and desperate you wrote Daemon😋 Genuinely I'm so happy he's trying to right what he did wrong but seeing him like that is just so satisfying. AND LOVEE HOW READER IS NOT TAKING HIS SHIT!! like yes girl!!🥳

Tormented Spirit | 14

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: as always please consider leaving me a comment/reblog ok. OH AND I NEARLY FORGOT. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF THE LOVELY READERS SHO SENT ME INFORMATION ABOUT CPR/MEDIEVAL HEALTHCARE. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones @ashton-trashton

You clutch you chest as you walk into your bedroom. You lean back onto the wooden door after closing it and slowly sink to the ground. You gasp for air as a myriad of emotions cut through you.

You stare off into space, reeling from the entire interaction. You start when you hear a knock on the door. You hear the voices of your servants. You turn to the knob, reach up for it, and slowly open it from where you sat.

"Princess?" worried voices call.

Your voice is small, "I'm here."

A servant peeps her head through the small opening and gasps when she sees you. She slinks her way in, and soon does the other one. They both help you up and fuss over you. You tell them you only need help getting dressed, nothing more.

Your servants manage to make you look like a princess after dressing you and fixing your hair. They even paint your lips and cheeks with rouge, making it as though you weren't look so ghastly.

You feel ghastly as you make your way to the maester's ward though. Dread grows with each step you take, thus why you move so sluggish. You only snap out of it when you hear someone call for you.

"AUNT!"

You come alive at the sight of Aegon running over. You find his mother smiling behind him, clutching her belly as she followed after the boy. You crouch down and reach for him.

Aegon giggles as he jumps into your arms, "AUNT!"

You kiss his temple and embrace him fondly, "sȳz ñāqes, ñuha valītsos." Good morning, my boy.

You grunt as you stand with the young prince in your arms. Alicent is soon before you, "good morn," she smiles, though it flattens when she sees your eyes, "sister..."

You shake your head, "it's Daemon."

The queen clenches her jaw.

Aegon finds interest in the jewel on your neck. He takes it in his hand and tries to eat it. You turn to him and shush him, moving his hand away.

"What did he do to you?" your sister asks.

"Not to me," you turn to her, "to my wards."

Alicent knits her brows.

"They..." you sigh. The image of Daemon's bloody face haunts you, "they brawled outside my bedroom."

"What?" she pulls her head back.

"His face was bloody..." your voice shakes, "and... he said things to me-"

"Aunt, cake!" Aegon announces, grabbing your cheeks.

Alicent turns to her son, pushing his hands off you, "darling, mummy said you'll get cake later."

Aegon whines, "cake!"

You turn to Aegon, shushing him momentarily before turning back to Alicent, "I slapped him."

Your sister freezes, a line forming between her brows. She takes a moment before replying, "you slapped Daemon?"

You simply stare at her as Aegon throws his head back and whines, "CAKEEEEE!"

You watch as the boy begins to squirm whilst crying out for cake. You try to calm him, but eventually, Alicent takes him from you. She manages to calm the boy by offering to play with him instead. Aegon scratches his teary eyes, turning to you. He points.

You stroke his head, "I'll play with you later."

He whines, "NOOOOO!"

"My love," Alicent whispers against his cheek, "aunt has to go-"

"NOOO!"

"I just have to go get cake for you, Aegon," you shush him, "you want cake, right?"

Aegon pouts as tears stream down his face.

"Why don't you go play with mummy and aunt will get cake for us?"

Alicent kisses Aegon's tears away and he nods. The boy sighs, "no long."

You nod in understanding, "no, sweetheart. I will not take long."

With that, you leave your nephew and sister, continuing your walk to the maester's ward. When you arrive, your stomach drops as the arguing you hear coming from inside.

When you open the door, the room goes silent. You immediately lock eyes with Daemon who was standing next to your maester.

"Oh, thank the gods," the old man says.

You walk in with knit brows, "what is happening?"

"The prince refuses that I tend to his wounds," the maester says, handing you an iron tray that had both a damp and dry cloth, "he insists only on receiving care for you, my princess."

Of course. You stare at the tray, recalling years ago when he did the same after his tourney, the wordlessly take it. You examine the room, quickly finding your wards sitting on cots.

They stand to attention when you turn to them and nod, "princess."

Daemon feels his hand tremble as you walk towards them.

"Are you two well?"

The twins examine your demeanor before nodding slowly, "yes."

"Have you any injuries?"

"No."

"Good," you nod, "you may leave."

Their eyes widen.

You walk towards Daemon grabbing his arm, "sit."

"Princess?" Erryk asks, "do you mean-"

"Both," you spare them a glance, "both of you may retire."

Daemon turns to them, slowly sitting on the cot.

You turn, "I beg your pardon, maester, but would you do me a favor?"

Erryk is silenced. Arryk feels dread in his stomach as he nods, "we shall away then, my princess."

"How might I serve, princess?" the maester asks.

Daemon watches the twins walk out, awfully pleased with himself, until he feels his head begin to throb.

"Would you please go to the kitchen and request cake be delivered to Aegon?"

The maester is taken aback by the request but otherwise nods, "of course."

"Thank you," you nod, watching him leave.

Daemon does the same.

The moment it's just you and him, he turns to you, finding your eyes are already on him. He clenches his jaw, regretting it when it makes the pain in his nose flare.

Your sigh, walking towards him. You start when he touches your hip.

His lips part as consequences, "I-"

"Don't speak," you take the damp towel and hand him the tray, "I do not wish to speak to you as I tend to your wounds."

Daemon withdraws the hand he had on your hip in lieu of taking the tray. The metal thing felt blistering and heavy. He lowers his head.

"Don't move," you snap, grabbing his chin. When he lifts his head, you quickly retreat your hand, realizing you were about to force his gaze up which would have hurt him. You didn't want to hurt him, regardless of how he made you feel.

Daemon does not think this is why you pull away; he thinks the look of him disgusted you, especially in this state. His grip on the tray tightens.

You could tell his nose was broken from how his eyes were swollen. Many an occasion has this happened to Gwayne. You sigh and shake your head, "you should have let the maester see to your nose at least."

It was strange that now that you were before him, he could barely feel the pain on his face, not because it was gone but because felt it every where, most especially in his chest.

"It's broken," you mutter, placing a hand on his cheek.

Daemon leans back to allow you more access to his face. He so badly wanted to lean into your touch, but he was afraid you'd pull away again. Instead, he closes his eyes, "is it crooked?"

You examine his nose, "no," you trace his bridge with your thumb.

His breath hitches and his skin pricks with goosebumps.

"But a vein must have ruptured from the hit," you say as you wipe the blood off him.

Daemon involuntarily winces.

You immediately pull back, "I-"

He opens his eyes and snatches your hand.

You stare at each other for a long moment.

He brings your hand to his cheek, "think nothing of it," his eyes are watery. His thumb rubs your skin, "do not pull away."

When he releases you, you finish off wiping the red off his skin until all that was left on his face were purple bruises and split skin. You comb his hair back with your fingers and it makes his brows furrow. You sigh, take the tray from him, and set it aside, "I did not mean for that to hurt."

"It didn't," he mutters, watching you go through the objects on the maester's table. You take the ointment and turn back to him. He adds, "I liked it."

You grit your teeth and swipe a dollop of salve on your finger.

Daemon notices your reaction, "are you angry with m-"

"I told you not to speak," you snap for the second time.

His lips part, but only a sigh comes out.

You inhale sharply.

He can feel your hand tremble as you rub the ointment on his wounds. It hurts, not because of the pressure you apply on his skin, but because he knows your anger is the cause of your tremors.

You look him once over after tending to his cuts then examine his body, "anywhere else you're injured, prince?"

"Daor," he mutters, shaking his head, "sepār ñuha prūmia." No, just my heart.

You chuckle dryly at his words, quickly turning away from him to shake your head in disbelief.

Daemon swallows a lump that forms in his throat, "kostilus." Please.

You turn to him, scratching your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him. "Skoros yno?" What of mine?

His eyes follow you as you sit down next to him. He shifts in his spot to face you.

You grip the cot, "gaomagon ao pendagon ñuha prūmia ēza daor ōdrio." You take a deep breath before turning to him. Do you think my heart has no wound?

He sees the tears build in your eyes. He reaches out to wipe it, but you recoil and do it off yourself. He curls his hand into a fist and rests it on his lap. He whispers your name and licks his lips, "it was not my intention."

"Then what was your intention then?" you quip, eyes refusing to leave his though it blurred with tears, "if not to sear holes into my heart?"

What was his intention? What was his intention? Why was it that he found your letters so gut-curling and unseemly? Why was the thought of reading your words while he was seas apart so sickening? He opens his mouth, "I do not know."

You are stunned by his response. It makes you stiffen in your spot. Your stomach sours and your breath hitches, "... you do not even know why you resent me so?"

"I do not resent you," he raises his voice slightly, "but I did bare resentment." He shakes his head, "perhaps for my brother, for your brother, for your father."

You scratch your eyes again. You sigh and nod, "I see."

Daemon's hands flinch.

"So," you knit your brows, "you cast your resentment onto me because..."

His throat tightens though his jaw slacks, "why do you insist upon this?"

"What do you mean?!" you raise.

"You insist to misunderstand me."

"I insist the opposite, you fool!" you snap, coming to a stand, "every day I wrote to you, even after I knew for certain you would not!"

The balm on Daemon's face is washed with the salt from his eyes, "I've read them."

You tense but then you shake your head, "liar."

The word makes him whimper, "last night. I read them all. I read about how you ate cake, and went to the sea, and wrote to Laenor, and-"

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" you blurt, feeling your breath grow short, "those letters were not meant to be read that way."

"But, I know your heart now," he slowly stands.

You laugh, "know my heart!"

"Or the parts you opened up to me," he reaches a hand. He sniffles; it feels like a blade up the nostrils. "If it pleases you, I would write a thousand letters in return."

You scoff, taking a step back, "you would survive three years of silence from me?"

The thought shatters him.

You watch as red drips from his nose to his lips. You do nothing but wait for his response.

He shakes his head, "I would not."

You shake your head and grab the dry towel for him. He takes it and feels his stomach drop when you begin to pace around. The closer you get to the door, the more uneasy he feels. He cannot help himself, "kostilus gaomagon daor henujagon nyke." Please do not leave me.

He does not like the tone with which you speak this, and yet he says, "iksan biare." I am glad.

"Why did you ambush my wards?"

Daemon tenses.

"How did you come into my chambers if they were keeping watch outside?"

He wipes the blood off his lips, "there are secret passages to nearly every room in the castle."

You shrug and cross your arms, "did you attack them because it would be too easy to attack me?"

He pulls his head back, "do not vilify me," he shake his head, "do not presume I would ever atta-"

"YOU ARE MY VILLAIN!" your splintered resolve finally breaks. You unleash your rage by the hurtling your heel at him. Your right shoe misses Daemon by a hair, but your left shoe hits him in the shoulder when he turns to dodge your assault.

You charge at him with a guttural screech, fully intent on battering his body, but he does not let you. He grabs your wrists and easily overpowers you, calling your name out.

Daemon traps you in his arms and in return, you begin kicking him. He yelps when you kick his shin, but does not release you. He shudders as he tightens his arms around you, "kostilus, kostilus keligon. Gīda ilagon, ik—" please, please stop. Calm down, I—

"LET ME GO!" you shriek, exerting all of your strength into elbowing him.

You can't though, his hold on you was too strong. And though he hated that this was how he got to hold you, he could not help the way his face leaned into your nape to breathe in your scent. He weeps against you, begging you to calm down.

And you do, not because you want to, but because you could no longer breathe.

Daemon feels it, the exact moment you tense just to go limp. His hold on you loosens in an instant. It was a mistake because of how you flop forward. His heart leaps into his mouth as he feels your body spasm and gasp for air.

He lays you down on the cot and his eyes go wide at the sight of the veins popping out of your neck. He immediately rubs your chest and frantically calls out your name.

You looked like you were choking. A drowned man in the Stepstones immediately comes to mind.

He takes your jaw and breathes air into your mouth. A string of snot mixed with blood is drawn out between you as he pulls away to examine your face.

He had only seen it once. One of the men from the fleet was found washed up shore. When he was dragged out, they fully intended to bury him, until an Iron Born came forward.

And as he did it on you, he could only pray that he remembered it right.

The prince could barely see from how his tears blurred his vision. It looked like you were going grey and whatever he was doing wasn't working. His voice shakes as he blurts, "kostilus, gaomagon daor henujagon nyke!" please, do not leave me.

You eyelids begin to close.

"KOSTILUS," he pumps your chest again, "vestā īlē daor tetan lēda nyke!" He shudders as he wills you to come back to consciousness. PLEASE, you said you were not finished with me!

You feel your lungs deflate. You can't seem to feel anything else.

Daemon grabs your cheeks and breathes into your mouth again, and again, and again. He presses his head to your chest and listens closely to your heart beat. Tears rush down to your skin as he screws his eyes shut. He can't hear anything. He can't hear anything.

He scoops you into you his chest and sobs into you. He mutters your name repeatedly. He cannot seem to do anything else but weep.

He takes your hand, cold and clammy, and squeezes it as he brings it to his mouth to kiss it, "please, please, please, don't leave me."

He sniffles and straightens up. Help. He should call for help. "MAESTER! MAESTER!" He comes to a stand, but his knees are weak and he crumples down to the floor.

A few moments later, a maester from one of the inner offices emerges. Seeing the distraught prince with a bloody nose, he is taken aback, "my prince-"

"HELP HER!" he howls from the floor. He tries to come to a stand, but even his arm gives in and he slips down to the floor. He resigns to his misery and lays on his back, "HELP MY WIFE!"

The maester runs to you, nearly tripping on the legs of the prince.

As Daemon groans helplessly, the maester that had gone to have cake delivered to young prince Aegon arrives. He runs up to the prince, "my prince, what has-"

"My wife is dead, isn't she?" Daemon mumbles through a sob.

The maester stiffens and turns to the other maester with wide eyes, "what has-"

"Her heartbeat is weak," the other maester blurts, "she succumbed to her affliction, no doubt."

The old man walks over Daemon and comes to your side. The one who had inspected you turns to the prince, "rise, your grace. She is not overcome. Her heart persists even in weakness."

Daemon lifts his head and scrambles to his knees. He calls your name, lips wobbling, cheeks wet with sorrow, a red streak trickled down from his nose.

"However," the same maester says as he gives way to Daemon, "I fear there is nothing else we can do but pray her heart keeps persisting." He offers the prince a towel.

He sniffles, opting to wipe his face on his sleeve. He shakes his head, "she will persist. She is not finished with me."

The maesters look at each other. One says, "we shall give you your privacy, Prince Daemon. I shall have the sept pray for her health and strength."

Daemon kneels beside your cot, squeezing one of your hands, "a blanket, maester. She is cold."

"Of course," he offers him the blanket neatly folded on the other cot.

The two maesters leave after Daemon cloaks you with a blanket. He tucks you in and brushes your brown hair away from your face. He sniffles as he looks upon you. Another bout of sobs arrest him.

He rests his head upon your lap, unwanting to put pressure upon your chest or belly. He embraces you as he despairs. His voice his broken as he says your name. He dries his tears on the blanket before coming to a stand.

He finds the maesters, all huddled up and muttering to each other in the office room.

"My prince," one says, walking over, "what is—"

"Is th-ere truly nothing to be done?" his voice cracks, low and pained.

They look at each other for a moment. One replies, "forgive us, your grace, but no."

Daemon makes a pained noise as he sniffles.

The maesters all look upon the troubled prince with pity.

"Right," he wipes his face on his sleeve, "I will bring her to our chambers then, that I may share in her embrace. Perhaps my heat and desperation with strengthen her body."

They nod as Daemon walks off.

The prince gathers you in his arms. You feel lighter than he remembers. He gazes upon your face, thinking of the day he had carried you home from the temple. He remembers your terrible prayer and gulps, "the gods do not grant such cruel things."

He walks down the halls that presently felt haunted. He can barely feel your breathing on his neck. He prays it is because has been thickened from the burns he suffered in the Stepstones.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Alicent with her son lingering in one of the halls. He and her stare at each other heatedly for a good moment. He continues walking.

Alicent turns to Aegon, "my darling, we should go inside."

"No!" Aegon whines, "AUNT!"

Daemon's chest tightens.

Alicent distracts him as Daemon comes closer, "later, my love we will-"

The distraction does not work. Aegon spots you and recognizes you too easily, "AUNT!"

Alicent tries to hold him back, but she can only do so much in her pregnant state.

Daemon stops in his tracks once more as the young boy runs up to him. Aegon, with his tiny hands and big violet eyes, reaches out for you.

Alicent runs over, "Aegon, no!" She pulls him away.

Aegon whines but stops when Daemon says, "issa ēdrure, valītsos." She is sleeping, boy.

Alicent clenches her teeth. Aegon furrows his brows, "ēdrure?" Sleep?

"Kessa," Daemon mutters, "issa olvie ēdrugī." Yes. She is very tired.

Aegon pouts, "cake!"

"Tolī. Ziry teptan ao iā kivio, gōntan ziry daor?" Later. She gave you a promise, did she not?

Aegon blinks at him and points, "sad."

Daemon tenses.

"Mundagon sodjisto ēdrugon." Sad aunt sleeps.

Daemon adjusts you in his arms as he looks off. He hastens in his way back to your shared chambers.

Alicent watches the man walk away with her sister in his arms. A shiver runs down her spine as she begins to think the worst.

Daemon changes you out of your dress and undoes your hair. He tucks you in bed before changing himself. He lights a single candle by the bedside table before lying beside you.

He nuzzles into your neck and throws his leg over yours. He rubs your bare sternum, glad to be able to feel the thumping of your heart.

His stream of tears do not seem to cease. He can now feel every fibre of pain on his face and body. He aches and aches; He aches mostly for you.

He thinks back to your last conversation. He recalls the explanation he owes you, "I did it because you spoke their names in your sleep."

You sigh heavily.

Daemon lifts his head up, hoping you would wake. You do not.

He sighs, wiping his face on his dress shirt and clarifies, "Arryk and Erryk."

He looks upon your form. Your face shines under candlelight. He longs to see it under the light of the sun and moon.

"I cannot bare to know you dream of them," he mutters, propping himself up on one arm, "you moaned their name."

Your arms are already warm but Daemon rubs them still.

"Gods know how I surely moaned your name in my sleep," he sighs, "... as I fucked other women."

You remain unmoving.

"Did they sate you, I wonder?" his throat tightens. He feels a hot tear run down his nose, "... did you moan my name when they fucked you?"

Jealously, anger, and hurt force more tears out of him. He rests his head on your chest, awfully defeated. He clutches the fabric of your nightgown as he laments with his eyes screwed shut.

"Do you dream of me?"

Warmth spreads across his cheek. He feels his snot begin to drip. He moves to wipe his nose, but feels something in the way.

You fool.

His eyes open. His lips part when he realizes your hand is on his cheek. He lifts his head, placing his hand atop yours.

"D—mon."

His breath trembles. He squeezes your hand, "I'm here." He kisses your palm.

Your eyes slowly open.

Daemon's heart skips. He laughs but quickly breaks into a sob.

You can barely see his face in the darkness, but you can feel the way his head shook as he wept. You brush your tears with your thumb and repeat the words Daemon thought he imagined you say, "you fool."

He shudders as he watches you knit your brows.

"I dream only one dream," you whisper. You grunt as you feel your head pound, "and it is neither of my wards or you."

He shifts slightly to better see you, careful to keep your hand on his face. He asks, soft and careful, "what do you dream of?"

He tenses when you pull away. He is about to beg for forgiveness for even asking, but then he realizes you merely wished to sit up. He helps you lean back on the headboard and sits beside you, hands fidgeting with the blanket, for he did not know if you wanted to hold his hand.

You don't. Your hands go to his beaten face. You sigh, "our children."

Daemon's expression slips.

"Alaeric and Alyrie," you add, gently rubbing his cheeks, "it was not Arryk nor Erryk's name I muttered, but theirs."

His hands come atop yours again. His eyes are red with tears.

"They-" your lips tremble, "-they were a moon too early."

The sound of your name spilling from his lips is horrible.

You lower your gaze and slowly pull away from him. You clutch your chest when you feel it begin to tighten. You take your time to draw in deep breaths to calm yourself.

Daemon brushes your hair back and rubs your arms.

You whine when he touches you. You pull away, "please, don't."

It is worse than a kick to the teeth how you move back. He is frantic when you look as though you wanted to leave bed. He calls out your name and immediately begins to apologize, "please. Forgive me. I will not tou-"

"I need to go for a walk," you mutter as you come to a stand.

Daemon immediately springs into action, taking your arm, helping you keep yourself upright. You grip his bicep and point to the chair, "my robe."

He immediately takes your robe and helps you put it on. He proceeds to help you slip your shoes on and you whine at the tightening of your chest. Daemon is frantic, "what is it? What is happening? What do you need?"

You shake your head and sigh, "a walk... just a walk."

Neither of you speak as you walk outside of your room. You saunter down the now dark halls holding Daemon's bicep. His gaze barely leaves you. He is focused only on your conditions.

You feel exhausted, and you turn to the prince, figuring he probably felt the same way, "it's not much farther."

He shakes his head, "where you go, I will follow."

You see the worry on his face. You do not have it in you to try and comfort him. You turn away and rub your chest.

Soon, you arrive to your destination. The gardens are lit up by the light of the stars and the moon. You move past the thick rose bushes and find the fountain that rest behind them.

Daemon is surprised by its existence.

You take notice, "my father had it commissioned for me."

He gasps when you release him and chases after your hand.

You watch as he squeezes you and shake your head, "I will just walk around the fountain, Daemon."

He turns to the said fountain, watching leaves and blossoms flow with the trickling water. He nods, "then so shall I."

Daemon secures your hand on his bicep. You do not argue, "very well."

The two of you walk around the large, rounded stone. Daemon is one again focused only on you. On the other hand, you are solely focused on loosening the tightness in your lungs.

"Will you tell me more about them?"

Them? You didn't not want to talk about them, lest you faint. You reach for a rose bud that fell into the water and fish it out. You take a moment to decide on your answer and end up shaking your head, "another time."

Daemon is disheartened by your response for he did not know if you did not want to speak of your children because of how greatly it hurt or because you simply did not want to speak to him. Still, he nods, "of course."

It does not take long for you to completely circle around the fountain. You look at the flower in your hand, "you do not have to trace all my steps."

"I do."

You turn to him.

His breath hitches.

"Why?"

He momentarily looks at the flower in your hand, "I do not want you to go where I cannot follow."

You stop in your tracks; so does he.

He stares at you, hoping you had something to say.

You don't. You continue walking.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targaryan fic #house of the dragon

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esotericbluntbaby · 2 days ago

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bf! hamzah x reader headcannons (sfw!)

- i feel like his love language is acts of service. if you guys don't live together already, he definitely acts like you do. need to go run errands? he'll drive you. hungry? he'll cook you something. in fact, he has all the cabinets memorized so he really never has to ask you where anything is. he knows what you like and don't like, and obviously if you have any allergies, so everything he prepares is to your liking. stressed? he'll run you a hot bath, complete with candles and a laptop sitting on a table for you to watch movies. he would even sit down on the floor next to you to keep you company, just in case you wanted to talk. how sweet!

- though he's a busy man with his podcast and youtube channel, you rarely feel like you come second to his career the more the relationship progresses. although you probably reassure him that it's okay if he stays a little late to finish editing or filming, he makes it up to you by bringing you some food or flowers. he genuinely feels bad when he has to be kept away from his girlfriend, so he tries to make up for it afterwards by showing you that he thinks of you even when you're apart.

- he would definitely play games with you when he can. i feel like you'd get a random text from him while he's filming that says something along the lines of him playing a game with martin that he wants to play with you. if it's a horror game, he'd definitely have you sit on his lap. with each jumpscare, he holds you tighter as you both jump or possibly scream. you secretly know that it's just an excuse for him to hold you, but of course, you don't mind.

- whenever he watches you holding or petting red and blue, his heart melts a little. he enjoys when you take care of his cats since they're literally his children. there are times you'll sleep over and wake up to the sight of hamzah, red, and blue all cuddled up next to you.

- speaking of cuddle, hamzah seems like the type to have such a heavy grip on you when you're asleep together. i can imagine you trying to go to work or school and attempting to get up from out of bed but he simply doesn't let you. the grip he has on your waist is tight as SHIT like he's acting like he'd die if he let go. eventually you squeeze out of his arms and get ready, but he soon wakes up and asks you why you left him there.

- you are passenger princess. always. he HATES it when you drive because he doesn't see the point. he's always available to take you places and enjoys being your own personal chauffeur. he understands that you can do things on your own, but he wants you to understand that you don't have to since he's in your life.

- i feel like he's heavy on communication and comprehension. in the beginning of the relationship, he was probably scared to tell you when he got jealous or when you do something that bothers him, but over time he realized he has to talk or else nothing would change. if something's bothering him, he won't hesitate to talk to you about it in a respectful and meaningful way. he isn't accusatory, but talks to you with softness in his voice. you guys are a team. afterwards, he just basks in your existence and spends time with you to reassure you that you guys are alright.

- when you guys are out together, he acts like he hates when you baby him. he tries his best to seem as masculine and strong as possible when you two are in public. in private? the complete opposite. he prefers being little spoon and resting his head on your chest while you stroke his hair. he loves when you kiss him on the forehead and when you call him cute pet names. he looks at you with so much adoration when you treat him like he's your baby.

- when you're upset, he definitely tries to cheer you up by making you laugh. whether it's cracking joke after joke or pretending to fall or finding a funny game to play with you, he will not stop until he sees you smile. he hates seeing a frown on your face and will genuinely do anything to take any sort of discomfort or pain away from you.

authors note

i decided to write at 1:24 on a school night because i NEEDED more hamzah fics. ts is kinda ass tho but we thug! take care of urselves lovelies mwah i will write more soon!

#hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah fluff #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #slushy noobz

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peachiejeongin · 20 hours ago

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A Lesson in Lust | Felix

Synopsis: You have been with Felix for a while now, and you feel like you are finally ready to advance in the relationship; however, you need some help learning the ropes, and Felix is more than happy to be your instructor.

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Genre: non-idol au, established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Recommended), inexperienced!reader, sub!reader, soft-dom!Felix, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, etc), oral (m!receiving), praise, light marking, protected penetrative sex, riding, aftercare

WC: 3.8k

Notice: I may or may not have awoken on Christmas Eve with this in mind, and it may or may not be inspired by a dream I had. I have also been told I need to write more Felix stories to which I am happy to do so! Of course, it is a cliche in a sense, but nevertheless, my loves, I hope you all enjoy the fiction!

Divider By: @strangergraphics

Smut under the cut!

The glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden warmth over the room, its light flickering softly as the evening settled itself into darkness. You were curled up against Felix, your head resting on his chest and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing comforting in its steadiness. His hand was absentmindedly tracing circles along your arm, his tocuh featherlight as if he could not help but show affection in the smallest of gestures.

You had been silent for some time, your thoughts chasing each other around in circles, each once tangling with the next. Yet, they all centered around one specific aspect:

Sex.

You and Felix had been discussing the topic as of recent, setting boundaries and getting a feel for what the other was and was not into; however, the topic of actually consumating the act was a completely different story on your end.

You had never actually done this sort of thing before; sure, you had given and received oral from previous partners, albeit in an extremely poor manner. But you had never gone fully in, nor did you even feel like you knew what you were doing from the little experience you did have.

Thus, you had asked Felix if you could wait for a little bit, just to make sure you had enough confidence in yourself in order to delve into the act. Felix, ever assuring and compassionate, understood immediately and agreed to hold off for you.

Now, as you lay beside your boyfriend, you felt ready; although, your mind was still racing with anxiety.

It was not that you did not know what you wanted; if anything, it was the certainty that made your heart race. Saying it out loud, however, felt monumental, like stepping off of a cliff and hoping he would be there to catch you.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" His voice broke the quiet, gentle and curious. His fingers paused briefly against your arm before continuing their soothing gestures. You bit your lip, the words forming but catching in your throat.

"It's...it's kind of hard to talk about," you admitted, shifting to prop yourself up slightly. The nervous flutter in your stomach grew when he turned to face you fully, his expression open and patient, giving you all of the space you needed.

"That's alright," he responded, his voice steady and soft. "We don't have to talk about anything until you are ready."

Drawing in a shaky breath, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together for courage.

"I think I am," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "Ready, y'know, to um...go further with us. With you."

Felix's brows lifted slightly in surprise, but his reaction was far from startled or rushed. Instead, a smile, warm and understanding, spread across his face. He sat up a little more, adjusting to meet your eyes, his hand giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his tone free of judgement or expectation. "I mean, really sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to rush into anything because of me."

"No, it's not that," you corrected quickly, your cheeks heating up at his concern. "I want to. I really want to. I've just never done this before, and I'm scared I'll mess it up, or I won't know what to do."

Felix's smile softened, and he shifted closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

"Hey, there is no such thing as messing this up," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. "This isn't about being perfect or knowing all the steps at once. It's about figuring it out at your pace. Plus, you have nothing to worry about. I'll teach you everything, okay?"

You felt your chest ache in the best way possible at his words, the weight of your nervousness easing just a little as you leaned into his touch.

"Okay," you mumbled, giving a small nod to punctuate the word. You leaned in closer to Felix, resting your hands on his shoulders before encapsulating the boy in a tender, loving kiss. The action lingered for a little before he pulled away, a sparkle present in his eyes.

"How would you like to begin, my love?" he questioned softly, his face only mere centimeters away from yours. You subconsciously slid your hands down his chest, stopping when they perched lightly on his stomach; the action sent mild sparks through Felix's body, causing him to hold back a groan that had bubbled up in his chest.

"Well," you started, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "We could always get rid of this thing." You tugged on the material for emphasis. Felix chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes scanned your every movement.

"Go for it, Darling," he affirmed, holding his hands above his head. You took in a deep breath, hooking your fingers under his loose, white t-shirt and slowly but surely pulling it over Felix's head. You discarded it somewhere on the bedroom floor; 'a task for later,' you presumed.

Right now, all you were focused on was the marvelous sight in front of you. You had seen Felix shirtless dozens of times, but this instance felt different, more intimate, a shared moment between two lovers as they progressed their relationship.

Still, you could not deny his beauty—defined abs etched onto a golden body and strong arm muscles that carressed you with every care in the world molded into them.

Once his shirt was discarded, Felix’s attention snapped back to you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands, warm and steady, cupped your face as he pulled you into another kiss, this one searing with passion and an unspoken hunger. The kiss deepened swiftly, his lips moving against yours with a rhythm that felt both natural and electric. His hands slipped to your waist, guiding you effortlessly into his lap until your thighs settled on either side of him.

You could not suppress the gasp that escaped as his tongue brushed teasingly against yours, a bold exploration that made your heart stutter. Felix chuckled against your lips, the sound low and affectionate, his amusement laced with a confidence that only made you melt further. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips slightly swollen, his gaze holding an unspoken reverence that made your breath hitch.

"You're so precious," he muttered against your lips, his hands softly rubbing up and down your back and your waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fiddling with the long dark strands of hair that fell down to his shoulders.

"Can we," you uttered, breaking the kiss you look at Felix longingly, "like...um..." You felt a meek feeling overtake you, a mix of the intense intimacy of the moment and the words catching in your throat.

"Hm?" Felix hummed, his voice deep yet calming. "Take your time baby."

"Can we do something I kind of know how to do?" you inquired, your voice shy and quiet. "Just so I could get back into the swing of things?" Felix's expression morphed into one of shock; his eyes widened, and he tilted his head in your direction, urging you to go further.

"Like what, baby?"

You simply responded to Felix's question with a sly smirk, moving away from his embrace and repositioning yourself to lay in between his legs. Your fingers moved towards the drawstrings of his sweatpants, untying them and keenly observing his body's responses. He let out a generous groan, unable to remove his dark gaze from you, anticipating your every move.

"I see," Felix commented, his voice falling into a hush as you grabbed the waistband of his sweats, his words faltering into shivering moans as you pulled them down along with his boxers.

The sight before you stole your breath, exceeding every expectation and flooding your senses with wonder. Felix was breathtaking, his lean, toned frame stretched out before you like a masterpiece crafted by the divine. His arousal was undeniable—longer and more prominent than you had experienced before. The flushed, swollen tip of his cock glistened with beads of pre-cum, evidence of just how much your presence, your touch, unraveled him; the simple act of your fingers working at the drawstring of his sweats had reduced him to this trembling state.

"Woah," you mumbled, your eyes blown out and fixated on the wonderous view.

"Like what you see?" Felix asked, a blend of teasing and adoration in his tone.

"Mhm," you hummed, absentmindedly taking his length into both of your shaky yet pliable hands; Felix let out a sharp, erotic hiss at the motion, causing you to slowly let go of him.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your manner panicked. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, no, baby!" Felix sat up slightly, resting a comforting hand on your upper back. "That felt good. It's what you're supposed to do."

"Oh, okay..." Your voice trailed off as you reluctantly retook hold of Felix's dick, your hands gripping lightly at the base.

"There you go," Felix breathed out. "Just relax for me, okay? Take your time and go at your pace. Don't worry about me, sweetheart."

"But I wanna make you feel good," you protested quietly.

"You will, no matter what you do," Felix reassured. "I already feel amazing, and I'm just looking at you, Pretty Girl."

Felix’s words were a spark, igniting a rush of confidence that coursed through your veins like a wildfire. The tension in your shoulders began to melt away as you leaned into the moment, your gaze lifting to meet his. Through hooded eyes, you stole a glance at him, the soft curve of his smile steadying your resolve. Though your nerves still hummed beneath the surface, you let them propel you forward, taking a breath and finally beginning.

Your pace was slow, deliberate as you got to work. While one hand kept hold of Felix's cock, the other moved to tantalize his tip; your pointer finger swirled around the head and over the slit, coating Felix in his own arousal. You ran the finger down his shaft, tracing each and every prominent vein as if you were committing the image to memory.

"Fuck, baby," Felix groaned. "Keep going for me, Beautiful. Use that pretty mouth. Go slow for me."

You obliged his commands, leisurely wrapping your lips around his glistening tip and pulling him little by little into your mouth. You glanced up at him partially for approval and partially to watch his reactions.

"Yes, baby girl, just like that," Felix moaned out, moving one of his hands to lightly tug at your hair.

You took your time with Felix, sinking lower onto his shaft with a newfound desire to please him. You went about halfway down on his cock before moving back up again, continuing the motion for a few moments and eliciting sincere, hearty noises from Felix.

"You're doing so, so well, baby. I want you to use your tongue and your hands," Felix guided you with care, his instructions precise yet tender, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he spoke made your chest tighten, every syllable laced with a trust that both thrilled and reassured you. "Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you hummed around his tip, shooting a fiery blast of sparks through his body. Your hands moved first, stroking the half of Felix's length in which you could not reach with your mouth. As your hands worked him up, your tongue began to move in perfect rhythm; it swirled over his tip and down to other, more sensitive areas, wetting him completely as you took him in your mouth.

"You learn quickly, my love," Felix remarked, trying to sound teasing but being given away by the broken composure of his whines, the mix of sensations overwhelming his senses. "You feel so fucking good, baby."

As you suck and stroke Felix at a slightly quicker pace, he moans out into the tinted darkness of your bedroom, praying that the neighbors cannot hear how loud he is being. Your mouth is making him feel things he has never felt before, and he swears up and down you do not need him as a teacher with how well you are performing. His moans are mixed between pleasure and content.

"I've never felt this good before," Felix admits, punctuating his words with a brief giggle to keep the mood lighthearted. "My goodness, baby girl."

His praises have you unconsciously rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction that could relieve the throbbing ache between your legs.

"You okay?" you purr around his length, sending a jolting wave throughout his body and resulting in a high-pitched, wanton moan.

"Y-yeah." Felix is more than okay; he is in a state of absolute awe that he had otherwise thought impossible. Watching you, here in this moment, in combination with knowing that he is the one that gets to have you like this hazed his mind with arousal.

His brain was increduously foggy, so much so that he does not realize when you speed up once more, bobbing your head up and down until he is teetering on the fine line of release. The sensation overtakes him suddenly, and his hands flee from your hair to grip at whatever slick material of the mattress they could grab.

He is so lost in his arousal that he absentmindedly bucks his hips up into your mouth, his prolonged thrust causing you to gag around his cock.

"Shit, baby," Felix whined, guilt overtaking him. " 'M sorry. Just felt so good, I-"

Felix is cut off by you, removing your gentle grasp around his length; before he can question why you did so, he watches as your mouth goes down to where your hands once were.

"Holy fuck!" Felix exclaims; his hips are now stuttering lightly, and his moans are coming out in higher pitches, to which you inferred both as tell-tale signs that he is close. His eyes roll back into his head, and his pleas only make you more feverish in drawing out his orgasm.

With one final, blaring groan of your name, Felix's thighs shake on either side of you as he releases thick, white ropes of cum onto your tongue. His climax is adorned by breathy groans; he swore he was on fire, melting under your precise touch.

After helping ride out his high, you release him with a wet pop!, swallowing every drop of his cum. He groans once more, with swears and other obscenities escaping from his mouth through heavy breaths.

You climbed over top of him, priding yourself in the adorable scenery; Felix's cheeks were flushed a deep shade of pink, his hands were moving up to cover his face, and his chest was heaving up and down heavily as he calms himself down from the heels of his high.

"You alright, Lixie?" you question, moving his hands away from his face and tucking a stray strand of his black, disheveled hair out of his eyes.

"I'm amazing," he responded, his voice hoarse and laced with arousal. "You did so fucking well, sweetheart." He sat up now, maneuvering you back into your straddling position as he wrapped you into a tight embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"I tried," you giggled out, feeling the rumble of Felix's chest as he laughed.

"You succeeded."

He pulled away from the hug first, his hands absently wandering down to the fabric of your hoodie, now lightly stained with evidence of the night's events. His hands slipped under the material, feeling warm against your skin as he lifted your hoodie up slightly.

"Can I?" he asked, ensuring he had your full consent before going any further. You nodded, desperate to be rid of the clothes that were making your already flushed body hotter than need be. Thus, Felix hurriedly tugged the article over your head and discarded it on the floor with the other stray items of clothing.

"Wow," he mumbled, taking in the very sight of you, from the top of your chest to the bottom of your stomach. Without thinking, his head delves into the skin just above your collarbones, kissing and sucking light marks into your skin. The small attentive action had you lightly tilting your head back, bracing onto Felix's shoulders for support. He pulled away gently, smirking at your blown-out state.

"You trust me?" Felix asks, his hands sliding up your waist.

"Always," you breathed out.

"I want you to ride me."

The words hit you like a jolt of lightning, leaving you frozen in place. Your lips parted instinctively, but no sound escaped as your heart began to pound erratically, each beat a vivid reminder of the anxiety coursing through you. Felix’s eyes flicked to your tense posture, the weight of your unease visible in the rigid set of your shoulders. Without a word, his warm hands found their way to you, kneading the taut muscles with gentle precision.

"You don't have to, baby," he followed up, his tone gentle and reassuring. "Tonight is all about you and what you're comfortable with."

"No, I want to," you quickly dismissed. "It's just, I don't know if I'll be good at it. What if I don't finish, or I finish and you don't, or-" Felix cut your inherent rambles off with a soft, soothing kiss, pulling away to look at you with pure love in his eyes.

"That's why you have me," Felix answered, his deep, Australian accent grounding you back into reality. "Like I said earlier, I already feel absolutely ecstatic, more so now that you...did what you did." Felix's words made you release a stifled laugh that you were unaware you were holding in. The sincerity of his tone, of his words gave you an unusual sense of confidence; with the rush of adrenaline, you reached down, hooking your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and your underwear, and sliding both off in one swift motion.

Felix brought you closer to him, relishing in the sight of you, completely bare before him. His eyes were wide, and his tongue subconsciously darted out as he analyzed every detail of you. He lightly took hold of your waist in order to demonstrate how to ride him.

"All you gotta do," he explained, "is bounce up and down on me." To accentuate his words, he lifted you up and down, simulating the real experience. "You can grip as hard as you need to on me for support, and if you get tired, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, nervousness still slightly prominent in your tone. Before beginning anything, he reached into the bedside dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and rolling it onto his cock. Once he was protected, you consciously lined Felix's tip up with your entrance, getting verbal confirmation that he was ready before you did anything.

Once you were both prepared, you lowered yourself onto him, gasping at the painful yet pleasureful stretch you felt; you felt full, for lack of a better term. Of course, you knew how large Felix was, but feeling it was entirely different. Meanwhile, Felix groaned, possibly the loudest he had all night, but his noises turned into incoherant mush from the way you felt.

You stilled for a moment, allowing your body the time it needed to adjust to his size while your hands steadied on his shoulders. Once you did start moving, it was at moderate, steady speed. You mirrored the actions Felix had taught you, lifting yourself off of his dick and lowering yourself back down over and over again until you gained a rhythm to your bounce.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking tight, baby," Felix managed to grunt. "You- Oh my God- Holy shit!" A plethora of swears made their way out of Felix's mouth as he whimpered about how amazing you felt.

You moaned softly in response to his praises, quickening your motions as Felix's head fell back onto the pillows. The intensity of chasing your own high caused you to whimper, in addition to the desire you had to please and be good for Felix. The bedroom filled with sensual noises as you both became blind sighted by pleasure.

"Keep going, baby," Felix whined. "J-Just like that. Doing so well for me."

His grip around your waist tightened as he let out more slurred whimpers and groans. His body was burning, and you noticed every visible muscle, from his arms down to his abs, clenching up. The intense euphoria of it all overtook his entire being, so much so that the man could barely see straight.

"I'm so fucking close, Lixie," you groaned, burying your face in the crook of your neck while somehow managing to keep up your pace.

"Hold out a little longer for me, baby," he stumbled, feeling a knot beginning to tighten in his stomach for the second time that night. You, in response, growled into his shoulder, nipping and sucking at the skin as a way to calm yourself down. Felix's legs began to tremble once more, and his grasp around your waist limpened, his high approaching.

"Please, baby," you whined, unable to hold yourself back for much longer as you found yourself at the peaks of your climax.

"Let go, sweetheart," Felix commanded, feeling his orgasm sneaking up on him. With that, your breathing became heavier and you swore momentarily that you saw stars as you let yourself go. You released every bit of the pent-up arousal around Felix's cock.

It did not take long for him to follow, letting out a roaring groan as he was brought to his second finish of the night. He finished into the condom, rocking out a few more thrusts to calm you both down before pulling out and discarding the rubber.

You fell beside of him, breathless and messy as you called to him.

"C'mere, baby," Felix gestured for you to snuggle with him; he held you tight as if letting go would cause him to lose you for forever.

"Did I do good?" you asked, oblivious to every emotion Felix had experienced all at once.

"You did so fucking well, sweetheart," he praised, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm," you muttered in response, almost dozing off in his arms.

"Mm-mm," Felix tsked, lifting you up out of his embrace. "Gotta get you cleaned up, baby."

After taking a hot bath together and changing into comfortable pajamas, you snuggled into Felix's side as a movie play half-forgotten in the background.

"Thank you, by the way," you said out of the blue, "for teaching me all of the sex stuff." Your wording had Felix in giggles as he held you tighter.

"Any time, my dear."

The air was silent momentarily, you absentmindedly fiddling with the drawstrings of Felix's hoodie.

"You think we could have another lesson soon?"

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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