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hcneymooners · 1 month ago

Text

⋆ i am afraid i will love you forever.

ambessa x sugar baby!reader x sevika. men & minors dni.

synopsis: ambessa & sevika are married for business reasons but cannot stand each other. however, they love you—you who are unaware that they are together.

cw: age difference, older woman/young woman, polyam but is it really bc they just love you and not each other, sugar baby!reader, business moguls!ambessa & sevika, power dynamics, power imbalance (you're a sugar baby, lol), sw, pining, non-sexual intimacy, sexually explicit content, threesome, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, oral sex (everyone is receiving at some point), masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub, sub!reader, dom!ambessa, switch!sevika, mommy kink, strength kink, face-sitting, face fucking, possessive sevika & ambessa, y'all there's a lot of nastiness in here idk if i can warn for it all, discussions of sexuality, implied assault (non-graphic, within conversation), slightly dub-con, angst, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, arranged marriage, sexual tension, hate sex, bisexual!reader.

wc: 10.3k

PLAYLIST.

notes: y'all, i'm going to hell. i had fun with this. i have such a soft spot for plots like this.

ACT I: CONCEPTION. you were used to feeling like a guest in your own life, everything fleeting, everything temporary.

sugaring was something inherently lacking permanence, even in name. it was sweet for a moment, full of gleaming gifts that you accepted with perfect tears in your eyes.

you had more than enough money, saved from endless months in which you traipsed across the world in the hands of older men. maybe it was about the attention now, this idea that you were still young enough to be considered enticing without effort. maybe it was the desperation to wring what you could out of an age gap connection before you became the older one.

still, in the beginning years of your twenties, you found it increasingly grating. very quickly, you understood that the men were the main problem.

they were all the same: fleshy jowls wiggling as they chewed thickly through caviar and jasmine rice, their boisterous laughs sailing across tables when you attempted to join conversations. they took your interests and re-explained them to you, returning them pulpy and distorted as they attempted to convince you that you didn't understand them the way they did. their self-importance clung to them like cheap cologne.

the rare occasions where you actually slept with them were mercifully short, and you learned to suspend yourself out of your body. you would imagine hovering somewhere over yourself, banished to the lavish mirrored ceiling of the ritz or whatever opulent hotel they'd chosen. they shuddered awkwardly above you, and afterward, you'd come back into yourself only to scrub viciously at your skin under the unforgiving spray of the shower.

the women were different—usually. you found yourself drawn to their luxury perfumes and high society drawls. it was because of this that you dropped working through an agency—which you had originally chosen to better protect yourself from male clients—and began independent contracting.

you kept a private log of the ones you liked best. there was the private university professor (who was really a nepotism baby) who loved to wear le labo matcha 26 and smelled so deliciously of fig whenever she kissed you that you sometimes bought the fruit just to continue tasting her. her nickname for you was something in greek—μωρό μου, you think. moro mou. she told you it meant 'my baby', but in all honesty, she could have called you anything. you just liked hearing her speak.

you were a dreamy, distant creature. your appeal lay in your ethereal quality, moving through the world in a way that suggested you were detached from it. people described your presence as lingering, smokey and soft, like a fading perfume in a sunlit room. there was something endearing about the tilt of your head, the deliberate pause in your movements and speech as you stewed in thought, that made people stare a second too long.

you had plied yourself with romantic imaginations since you were younger, when you first grew to hate your mother. that hatred had led you across far waters into a glittering life of your own making. but you'd learned that women could be just as dangerous, if not more so. they could ensnare you, shatter your heart with just the flicker of a glance.

so, of course, this meant that you were bound to get caught in the tides of extensive affection at some point. you just didn't expect it to be with them.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the first sign should have been the unusual nature they coaxed from you.

you typically focused on one relationship at a time, securing yourself to a single person until you became too honest or too sensitive or too old. but with them, you found yourself with what you called a roster—a term your best friend and fellow sugar baby clleo (yes, two l's) took issue with during your weekly brunches.

"it's not a roster when it's only two women, [name]," she said, stirring her mimosa with a silver straw.

"it's more than one, no?"

"i feel like you have to have a minimum of three." she raised an eyebrow. "though i have to admit, even two is unusual for you."

the first was ambessa.

you'd met her when you weren't even looking, at some jazz show clleo had received tickets for from her newest beau. you had been perched inside the red velvet of the box, eyes roving over the insides of the other open balcony seats. you loved to observe, to look into others' lives and pretend they could be your own.

that night, you'd worn a navy slip dress that pushed the line of being dress-code appropriate, but it was comfortable and you had been tired. your hair was elaborately braided away from your face, threaded through with silk ribbons of the same color. despite its usually disagreeable nature, you'd managed to make it look elegant enough. your skin was littered with goosebumps from the fervent blasting of the air conditioning.

for once, you'd done your makeup the way you preferred it—less blushing ingenue, more cool nudes and a dark, bold lip. in the bottom of your purse sat two rolling bullets of lipstick: one a berry shade, the other a satiny red slightly subdued by a touch of brown pigment.

your feet had been curled beneath you, your ballet flats cast aside in the corner. the rounded tops were slightly scuffed, but you only saw it as a testimony of love. again, you looked out into the crowd only to find a woman looking back.

she was utterly beautiful, and your body flushed with heat for a moment, eyes wide like a doe. her skin was a dark, rich brown that gleamed with a sheen of oil and perhaps a shimmering body mist. her hair—black and streaked with thin rivers of gray—was pulled up into a tight bun, though the front was cornrowed. her mouth was full and smooth, a small gold cuff inserted in the middle of her bottom lip.

that night, she'd worn an oversized blazer over tailored pants. your eyes caught on her diamond cufflinks, and you felt your fingers clutch tighter around the bulk of your vintage ysl clutch.

she watched you with a sense of urgency, as if you might take flight like a bird and never return. bashfully, you turned back to watch the performance and clapped politely as it came to an end. her gaze never strayed from you, and as you rose to leave with clleo, you knew that she would be waiting.

you don't remember much of what happened after, of arranging the contract and indenturing yourself to her wealth. you only remember how she made you feel, her great body towering over you as she pierced you with her shrewd gaze. she'd cupped your elbow, pulled you gently to the side so that you were less in the way. the movement was easy; you trusted her with your body immediately.

now, ambessa reigned over the entries of your leather journal as your clear favorite. everything she did further endeared you to her, and you found yourself tumbling out of bed to check your phone where it lay on the floor, desperate for her messages. you watched the device all night, its flat body connected to a limp white cord plugged into the wall—willing it to ring.

and when she did call, you were almost delirious with joy.

ambessa's world was a carefully curated exhibition of power. noxus corp dominated the skyline with its obsidian tower, all sharp angles and tinted windows that reflected the setting sun like spilled blood. you'd learned early on not to ask too many questions about her work. the corporate merger making headlines—something about expanding into the industrial district of zaun—was just background noise to the way she'd trace your collarbone with cold fingers heavy with rings.

belatedly, in the midst of your betrayal and anguish, you’d berate yourself on your refusal to engage with real life when it inconvenienced you. you could’ve caught on, dived deep into the hole of information that was the internet as clleo did when taking up with someone new. but you didn’t, you just answered her call.

she liked to dress you up. tonight, it was a paper-thin black dress that cost more than your month's rent, the fabric liquid against your skin. you'd paired it with kitten heels that made soft clicking sounds against the marble floors—ambessa preferred when you were shorter than her, easier to maneuver, to possess. your lips were stained the color of coffee, and you'd lined your eyes with something dusky and soft.

the restaurant was the kind of place that didn't list prices on the menu, where the silverware felt weighty enough to be used as weapons. you liked this style of dining; it allowed you to escape further. you could pretend that since there were no prices, every morsel you ate was free and that the woman across from you was someone whom you loved and received love back from instead of bills.

“pull your hair back,” she commanded softly when you sat down, reaching across to brush a strand from your face. her touch lingered longer than necessary. “i want to see you properly. you should never feel a need to hide from me.”

you obliged, using the elastic around your wrist to gather your hair into a loose knot. the movement exposed the necklace she'd given you last week—a delicate thing of white gold and diamonds that probably cost more than your university education. her eyes darkened with satisfaction. she liked marking you with beautiful things, preferred to communicate through touch and gifts rather than words.

you preened under her clear pleasure. the idea that you’d done something right flowed through you, sweet as sugar as was the phenomenon of female favoritism. your tongue settled behind your teeth as she skimmed the menu, ordering for you as she always did. she seemed more aware of what you liked and needed more than you had ever been.

“are you alright with sharing the roast monkfish tonight, little lamb? i’m not all that hungry, so i think we should deal with something light.”

you nodded and she smiled, chucking your chin as she flagged down the server. you squeezed your thighs together, resisting the urge to rise from your seat and sit at her side with your head resting in her lap.

the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine you were unfamiliar with, which meant it was far more expensive than your beloved six-dollar gas station sémillon. as ambessa swirled the dark liquid in her glass, her phone buzzed. her expression hardened for a fraction of a second before smoothing over.

"business," she said simply, standing. "order whatever you'd like. i'll return shortly."

you caught fragments of her conversation as she walked away—something about zaun's infrastructure and liability concerns. one hour bled into two. the waiter refilled your glass with practiced discretion, and you watched the ice in ambessa's water melt completely. your phone remained silent except for a single text: an urgent matter requires my attention. car service will take you home.

the words blurred on your screen. you'd grown used to her absences, the way she could withdraw completely into her world of corporate warfare, leaving you adrift in these expensive spaces. but tonight, the emptiness felt sharper somehow. you had, more than ever, wanted her to take you home.

it was then that the woman entered the restaurant, right as you blinked upward to dispel the gathering tears. the air seemed to shift with her presence as she absentmindley looked in your direction.

she moved with the fluid grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in the cruel maw of this world, efficient and forceful despite wearing an expertly tailored suit. her left arm caught the light strangely—some sort of advanced prosthetic that spoke of military tech or private healthcare. a significant scar bisected her face, but rather than diminishing her beauty, it enhanced her striking features.

your paths crossed at the bar while you waited for a fresh glass of wine. she ordered whiskey, neat, and her voice was rough velvet.

"you're wearing that necklace wrong," she said, not looking at you directly. "the clasp should be centered at the nape. here."

before you could protest, her fingers—warm, unlike ambessa's—were at your neck, adjusting the chain. you caught a whiff of motor oil beneath expensive perfume. you swayed slightly, pressing into her touch. she steadied you with a single finger at the beginning knob of your spine, strong where you were momentarily weak.

"i'm sevika," she said, finally meeting your eyes. something in her gaze made your breath catch. you’d never seen eyes that grey. "you look like you could use something stronger than wine."

you smiled, albeit shakily, which avalanched into finding yourself talking to her about everything and nothing—about the book of poetry you kept on your nightstand for late night reading, about the way you collected vintage coats, about how you sometimes felt like you were floating three feet above your own life.

she listened with an intensity that made you feel anchored, present in your skin in a way you hadn't felt in months. her questions were sparse but precise, each one drawing out another story, another piece of yourself you hadn't meant to expose. and then she asked you to leave with her, and the answer was quick and easy. a light, eager ‘yes’.

the speakeasy she took you to was hidden beneath an auto shop, all exposed brick and piano medleys that wrapped around you like rope. in the dim light, you noticed the way her prosthetic arm moved with incredible precision as she gestured, the way her eyes softened almost imperceptibly when you laughed. she noticed you shiver and draped her jacket over your shoulders without comment, the leather still warm from her body.

"i manage specialized acquisitions," she said when you asked what she did, her smile suggesting there was more to the story. "currently dealing with some complex merger negotiations. but that's boring. tell me more about that poetry collection you mentioned."

you talked until your voice grew hoarse, until the early hours when the city felt like it belonged only to those who were lost or hiding. when she dropped you home, she fixed your broken porch light without being asked, her movements quick and purposeful. you found out later she'd also left her number saved in your phone under 's'.

what you didn't know—couldn't have known—was that across town, ambessa was returning to the penthouse she shared with her wife of six months, their marriage a carefully hidden clause in the merger agreement between noxus and zaun's industrial empire. their shared living space was largely ceremonial, each woman keeping to their own wing, intersecting only for appearances and board meetings.

that night, sevika found ambessa in their shared study, both of them surrounded by contract papers and acquisition reports.

"the zaun infrastructure reports," sevika said, dropping a thick folder on the desk. her wedding ring caught the light—a simple band worn only within these walls.

"you're late," ambessa replied without looking up. "the board expects updates by morning."

"i had a personal matter to attend to."

"as did i."

neither woman acknowledged sevika’s missing jacket which she never was without, nor the faint perfume—your perfume—that clung to ambessa's blazer. their arrangement was clear: their marriage was business, their personal lives their own. they had trained themselves not to care what, or who, the other did in their free time.

but that night, for the first time since their arranged union, both women found themselves thinking of the same person as they worked in silence. it was one of their more agreeable evenings together.

ACT II: GROWING PAINS.

“where do you go?”

you turned, half-lidded, your hair mussed into an untamed bird’s nest. sevika lay beside you, her smile a lopsided thing—teasing, warm, a little worn. you leaned toward her instinctively, pressing a lazy finger into the shallow dimple that cut into her cheek.

she caught your wrist before you could withdraw, lips brushing the tender pulse beneath your skin before pulling you into her chest. her hand slid across your stomach, warm and heavy, before it wandered higher to pinch your nipple just shy of too hard.

the two of you had met in a hotel, yet somehow, it felt less clinical than it should have.

“what do you mean?” you murmured, breath catching as her hand stilled.

“you go somewhere,” she said, “when we fuck.”

the words hung between you, and you felt your body shift under her scrutiny. her gaze trailed the uneasy motion of your shoulder blades as you shifted upright. honesty clawed at your throat, but you tried to swallow it back. you’ve never been the tiger, only the tiger’s bride.

“i often—” you broke off, tongue darting to wet your lips. her arm tightened around your waist, as if sensing your instinct to retreat. “i tend to disassociate when i do this part of things. i’m not—what i want, i usually can’t achieve. i don’t want to make it anyone’s problem, so i float.”

“float?” she repeated softly. her tone was unreadable, but you refused to meet her eyes.

“i pick a spot on the ceiling,” you admitted, voice small. “from there, i phase myself out of my body. it’s like it’s happening to someone else.”

sevika said nothing at first, and the silence thickened as you focused on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. then, carefully, she shifted you into her lap, holding you there like a delicate thing. her lips found the center of your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart before trailing up to the vulnerable line of your throat.

“you do this with me?”

“not always,” you whispered. “you’re…different. you pay attention to me—what i need. only two other people have ever been that way. both women.”

“mmm. do you still see them?” her voice was calm, but you caught the subtle current of possession beneath her words.

“only one.”

“and?”

“it’s good with her. one of the best.”

“and what do you want?” she pressed. the question lodged itself in your chest. “you said you can’t achieve it.”

your cheeks burned, and you squirmed in her lap, but she held you fast. “i—this is embarrassing.”

“there’s nothing embarrassing about your desires, baby girl,” she murmured, her tone soothing. “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want you to enjoy this too.”

“i do enjoy it, but…i’d like to go further. i like to go under.” you hesitated, then added, “you know that i’m—”

“submissive,” she finished for you.

you nodded, your voice softening as you continued. “i don’t really like the harsher aspects of submission, but i love being taken somewhere else—being softer. i love being told i’m good, that i’m doing well. i love being pushed past my limits, to the point where i’m…hazy. overstimulated. freed from my worries through my body, through the pleasure i give and receive.

“when you manhandle me, when you pull me close and push into me like you’re starving for it, when you break me apart with your mouth, i get so close. i hover in this warm heaven where i’m nothing but what i feel. you know?”

sevika’s expression softened, her face almost unbearably open. before you could process it, she moved, pressing you into the mattress beneath her. her broad frame blotted out the light, sheltering you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“you are good, baby,” she finally said. “so good.”

her lips fell again to your neck and you felt her slide her thick fingers into the warm walls of your cunt. a sound slid from your throat, something gutteral and worn. she began to move, curling her fingers as if you pull you closer. there, in the back of your mind, was that heaven.

she kissed your temple, her lips lingering there as your body arched into her hands. “thank you for telling me.”

then, softer: “that heaven? i want to take you there.”

the words sank into your skin, heady and heavy, as if she’d whispered she loved you.

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ambessa had endured a long day—one filled with tedious negotiations and the peculiar frustrations of ruling over people who thought themselves her equals. she'd craved just one moment of quiet in her house, but fate, it seemed, had other plans.

when she stepped through the door, the sight of her wife pacing their kitchen dragged a weary sigh from her chest. sevika's movements were sharp, her broad shoulders taut beneath the worn leather of her jacket. even now, after months of marriage, seeing sevika in their shared space felt like an intrusion.

for a fleeting moment, ambessa considered turning around, but she hadn’t built empires by running from conflict.

“sevika,” she began, voice clipped, “if this is about zaun’s profit percentage in the acquisition, i suggest you take it up with legal. i’ve no patience to discuss business tonight.”

“it’s not that,” sevika muttered, her tone bristling with frustration. “but thanks for your grace, medarda.”

ambessa’s eyebrow arched. “then what?”

sevika stilled, the weight of her gaze pinning ambessa in place. “are you the other woman?”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. then irritation flared, swift and hot.

“i thought we agreed we weren’t in love,” ambessa replied, dry as the desert. “who i see outside this house is none of your concern, unless it compromises our arrangement.”

sevika exhaled sharply, the sound edged with restrained anger. she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, its screen casting a gentle glow across the marble counter. with a few taps, she pulled up a recent conversation.

she paused, a smile stealing across her face as she took in the selfie you'd sent of you and clleo in matching milano blaniks. the tenderness in her expression was something ambessa had never seen before.

my feet hurt but it might be worth it!! you'd texted. she had responded in record time.

looking cute, baby girl. i like the purple.

me too! they had a navy and gold pair i would kill for, but i'm trying to be responsible.

sevika's smile deepened, and this time she sent a bank transfer along with her next message.

you can be a little irresponsible.

oh, sevi. that's not what i meant.

i know. i don't mind. get them both.

"i'm sorry, but were we not having a conversation?" ambessa's voice cut through the moment like frost.

sevika snapped back to reality, her face twisting into something ugly—the expression she reserved solely for ambessa. she selected another image, and ambessa stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at the familiar necklace adorning your throat.

she recognized it instantly—it had rested on her desk just nights ago, a small token of indulgence she’d gifted you during one of your afternoons together.

you were smiling, beaming, caught mid-laugh. your hair was damp, clinging to your cheeks, and a sea lion nudged at your side. it was an image of unfiltered joy.

"she was talking to me the other night," sevika began, her voice tight as a wire. "mentioned some other woman. i thought it was a client thing, but then she showed me this." she gestured at the screen. "that necklace. it was on your desk when i saw you."

ambessa said nothing at first, her jaw working. finally, she sighed, the sound heavy with something like resignation. “i didn’t know. i assumed she might have other clients, but i didn’t pursue her because of you.”

sevika’s shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in her face remained. she bent her head, palms pressing into the cool marble of the counter. “what the fuck.”

“does she know?” ambessa asked after a beat.

"what would it matter?" sevika shot back, her voice rising like tide. her gaze locked on ambessa, and her lips twisted in disbelief. "holy shit. are you in love with her?"

the question hit like a blow, but ambessa’s reaction was instant.

“as if you’re any better,” she snapped. her tone turned venomous, sharp as a blade. “you sulk through the door, reeking of her sex, then slink into the shower as if i can’t hear you simpering in there.”

sevika straightened, anger sparking. “and you’re what? innocent?”

ambessa’s laugh was cold, cruel. “i’ve never been innocent a day in my life. but you—god, sevika, you’re pathetic. you’re worse than i thought.”

sevika’s fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t lash out. instead, she held her ground, her gaze fierce. “what do we do now?”

ambessa hesitated. her mind raced through the implications, the potential fallout. finally, she crossed her arms, her posture stiff. “we don’t tell her.”

“and keep lying to her?” sevika’s voice cracked slightly. “how long do you think that’ll work?”

“as long as it has to,” ambessa replied, her voice low and final. “this arrangement isn’t just about her, sevika. it’s about us. about what we’ve built. if you care about her as much as you claim, you’ll think before ruining what little stability we have left.”

“for fuck’s sake, ambessa. she’s a sweet girl. she won’t—”

“you have no idea what she will do if she finds out,” ambessa hissed. “and i know how sweet she is. she’s the only goddamn person i know who can stand me. who do you think i’m really protecting?”

for once, sevika had no retort. the silence between them was loud, heavy, filled with unsaid things.

“i’ll handle it,” ambessa said after a long pause, her voice softer now but no less firm. “but don’t let your feelings make you sloppy. if you can’t compartmentalize, this will all fall apart.”

sevika turned away, her shoulders tense. “it’s already falling apart.”

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ambessa didn’t sleep that night.

not because of sevika’s words—though they lingered like a sour taste in her mouth—but because of you. she’d grown accustomed to the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your presence softened the edges of her world, made it almost bearable. and yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you might be nothing more than collateral damage in this carefully constructed house of cards.

the following morning, as sunlight filtered through the sprawling windows of her office, ambessa reached for her phone. her fingers hovered over your contact, her mind warring with itself. she’d always prided herself on her control, on her ability to compartmentalize. but now, for the first time in years, she felt the cracks forming.

her phone buzzed before she could decide, sevika’s name flashing across the screen.

“what now?” ambessa answered, her tone clipped.

“the gala,” sevika began, her voice unusually subdued. “this year it’s your turn to host, right?”

ambessa’s grip tightened on the phone. “yes. and what about it?”

“and,” sevika said, dragging out the word, “she’ll be there. she got an invite through one of her clients.”

the air seemed to still around her. “you’re certain?”

“positive,” sevika replied. “what do you want to do?”

ambessa leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the skyline. the decision should have been simple: handle the event with poise, maintain appearances, and ensure that you remained blissfully unaware. but something about sevika’s tone made her pause.

“we’ll stick to the plan,” ambessa said finally. “she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. not from us.”

they both knew it was only a beautiful dream.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

and then suddenly, it was different. it was horrible in its subtleness, but enough to make you less comfortable than you were before.

you went to dinner. ambessa watched you with eyes as sharp as her diamond cufflinks, and you wondered if she knew how small you felt in her presence. you let her brush her thumb over your lower lip, and you leaned into it, hoping she doesn’t notice your hands gripping your clutch too tightly.

“is something wrong?” you asked her, throat closing around the end of the question.

she seemed to startle, and leaned back with a shake of her head. you knew what was coming next. she was going to blame work or her family, which you barely knew about, or maybe something as clandestine as the weather. you suddenly felt entirely too sick. you took a sip of wine, eyes falling on the little brown bag that sat next to you.

every gift you unwrapped felt a little like a goodbye, the sparkle dulled by the unspoken terms behind it. you kept smiling, face stretching tediously through the pain though your heart was sinking because nothing ruined a good arrangement faster than too much honesty.

you must’ve overstepped somewhere down the line, and she had grown weary of it. you were sweating now, looking away from her. it didn’t help that your phone had stayed dark all evening, your slew of messages to sevika read and unanswered.

“i finished that book you gave me,” you offered and ambessa nodded. “it was lovely. a little macabre, but i managed to push through.”

“bessa?” you asked, voice small.

the nickname seemed to spur her back into herself and she reached across the table, clutching your hand. her rings pressed cold indents into your skin. you'd grown to love the weight of them.

"the annual noxus environmental gala is tomorrow night," she said finally. her thumb traced circles on your palm. "i'd like you to come."

your heart stuttered. she'd never invited you to a public event before. "another client already invited me. i’ll be there."

she squeezed your hand once before letting go, unfazed by the mention of someone else. "good."

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the evening was opulent in a way that made your skin prickle. the ballroom shimmered with soft golden light, chandeliers casting their glow across marble floors that reflected everything like still water.

you'd been invited by marcus—a client who preferred your company over dinner to discuss art and literature, who looked at you like you were made of gold but never asked for more than conversation. he was safe, a spiderweb you could free yourself from anytime without losing any skin.

your dress—a gift from ambessa—felt like a confession of infidelity. marcus had said nothing in the car, but his face had been momentarily confused. he kept track of what he gifted you, and he hadn’t seen this before. you offered no explanation, just smiled softly and held his clammy hand.

the fabric whispered against your skin with every movement, reminding you of her touch. you held your champagne glass like a shield, watching the bubbles rise and disappear, each one carrying a fragment of your certainty with it.

the past week had been strange. ambessa's usual sharp edges had softened into something almost tender, while sevika's messages had grown shorter, more distant. she’d eventually responded to the ones that had been read, but you felt as though you had disturbed her with them. you'd attributed it to work, to the upcoming shareholder conference business weekly had written about. you were good at making excuses for the people you loved.

and then you saw her.

ambessa stood on the stage like she'd been born there, her voice carrying across the room with the kind of authority that made everyone else feel small. her dress was long and white, with a delicate slit framing the plump skin of her thigh. it clung to her frame with an elegance that made your heart ache. you didn't want to admit how your chest tightened at the sight of her, how your body betrayed you with its instinctive pull toward her presence.

but before you could fully process the sight of her, another figure emerged from the crowd.

sevika.

she stood near the base of the stage, her broad frame impossible to miss. her presence was quieter than ambessa's, but no less commanding. the way she held herself—like she belonged here, like this was her world too—made something cold settle in your stomach. you shifted away from marcus, moved slightly forward with a furrowed brow.

it wasn't just their proximity—it was the way they moved. the way sevika's gaze lingered on ambessa, the subtle nods they exchanged, as if communicating in a language only they were privy to. and then, as if to confirm your worst fears, ambessa's hand brushed sevika's arm in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that the truth hit you like a truck.

the matching rings caught the light. the world tilted sideways.

the soft hum of conversation turned to static, the lights too bright, the room too warm. you tried to steady yourself, clutching the edge of a nearby cocktail table and nearly taking it down, but the weight of realization pressed down on you like a tide. marcus was asking after you, but you snapped at him.

you thought of the gifts—how similar their tastes had been. the way they both knew too much about each other’s companies, about each other's worlds. the little moments that should have added up but hadn't—because you hadn't wanted them to. you'd ignored the signs, wrapped yourself in their separate affections like blankets against the cold.

someone nearby whispered, "isn't that their…" the words trailed off, heavy with implication. you spun, eyes wide and searching. you couldn’t tell who had spoken.

the champagne glass slipped from your fingers. it didn't shatter—caught by a waiter's quick reflexes—but the sound of it leaving your hand seemed to echo through the room. both women turned at the noise, their expressions shifting from professional neutrality to something raw and complicated.

“do you know her?” the question came from a guest nearby, their curious tone laced with amusement.

the tension shattered. the murmurs began, the subtle shifts of the crowd as more guests turned to watch the unfolding spectacle. your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the gathering noise like a blade.

“how long?”

ambessa stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal. “it’s not what you think—”

“don’t,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “don’t you dare lie to me.”

sevika tried to intervene, her hand reaching out as if to steady you, but you recoiled, your fury spilling over. “you both knew,” you said, your voice rising. “you knew, and you let me—”

sevika tried again."baby—"

"don't." the word came out hard and cold.

you backed away, your heels suddenly unsteady beneath you. the crowd parted like water, their whispers following you like shadows. you felt that your dress was transparent, exposing your body to the their ravaging gaze. you made it halfway down the marble steps before sevika caught your arm. her touch was warm, familiar—everything you'd grown to love and now couldn't bear.

"please," she said, her voice rough with something like desperation. she couldn’t possibly understand what it meant to be desperate. "please."

"let go of me." you tried to pull away, but she was stronger. had always been stronger.

"we never meant—"

"what?" your voice cracked. "to hurt me? to make me look like a fool? do you think i love being a loser? that i would be fine because i would view this as some way of knowing what it was like to win?" you yanked harder, and suddenly you were falling.

the puddle wasn't deep, but it was enough. your dress—ambessa's dress—soaked through instantly, clinging to your skin like shame. you stayed there on your hands and knees, watching your tears make ripples in dirty water.

"stand up," ambessa's voice came from behind you, softer than you'd ever heard it. “come inside. we can—”

"no." you pushed yourself to your feet, water streaming from ruined silk. your makeup was running—you could feel it tracking down your cheeks, and somehow that small detail destroyed you more than anything else. for the first time in a long time, you felt ugly. "i don’t want to come inside."

when you looked up, they were both there. ambessa's perfect composure had cracked, showing something raw underneath. sevika looked like she wanted to reach for you again but didn't dare.

"were you laughing about it?" your voice was barely audible. "about how pathetic i was, falling for both of you?"

"no," sevika said quickly. "god, no. we didn't even know—"

"until when?"

"a week ago," ambessa admitted. the truth fell between you, landed hard.

you stepped back, barefoot now, heels dangling from one hand. "oh my god. were you ever going to tell me?”

their silence was answer enough. the air around you grew thin.

a scream rose up from the depths of you before you could stop it, and echoed wildly from the sides of surrounding buildings. you clutched at your face, eyes screwing shut as you let out a terrible heaving noise. you knew they were seeing you now as you really were: a frantic girl who clasped desperately at whatever she could get in order to save herself.

“i hate you,” you screamed at them, hurling the words like they were knives. “i hate you! i never want you to speak to me again.”

it was rendered useless because the three of you knew that simply wasn’t the truth.

“just—leave me alone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

their expressions were unreadable. if you gave in to your delusions, you could believe that ambessa looked slightly ill.

you walked away, legs shaking, each step carrying you further from everything you'd thought was real. behind you, you could hear them arguing in harsh whispers, but you didn't turn around. the city lights blurred through your tears until everything was just a soft shape and shadow.

your apartment felt suffocating when you returned, the silence oppressive in its stillness. you sank onto the couch, your dress pooling around you like a shroud. the tears came in waves, each one more relentless than the last.

you thought of ambessa’s calculated charm, sevika’s quiet strength, the way they’d both made you feel seen, cherished. and then you thought of the lies. you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed out a message. but no words came. what could you possibly say? that you hated them? you’d done that. that you missed them already? that you wouldn’t know how to exist without them?

instead, you deleted their numbers, one by one, the act feeling both liberating and excruciating. for the first time in what felt like forever, you were truly alone.

your mother was right. you were such a fun girl, but impossible to love. when someone looked at you, they’d never see someone worth settling down with. another wail unearthed itself, reverberating through the grave of your body. you twisted, holding yourself with your own arms as you felt the grief break you down.

you would never see them again. there was nothing worse than this, not now. you felt like you’d be better off dead.

ACT III: DEFORMATION.

ambessa hadn’t slept in days.

the boardroom’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her sharp features as she reviewed contracts she couldn’t focus on. every word blurred into the next, her thoughts returning to the look on your face when the truth unraveled.

“i don’t think i can fix this,” she had told sevika the night it happened, her voice hollow as they sat in the dim confines of her private office.

sevika hadn’t responded, her silence cutting deeper than any argument could. ambessa could tell her wife blamed her, and in some ways, she couldn’t disagree.

sevika, in response, buried herself in her work. her nights were spent overseeing global operations, her jaw clenched tight as she barked orders to underlings down the phone who didn’t dare question her unrelenting pace.

but even the chaos of the company’s industrial sprawl couldn’t drown out the memory of you. the sound of your pleausre haunted her—high and wispy as she ate at you. her dreams were vivid, stuck on the way you’d lit up when you talked about the things you loved—things she hadn’t known enough to ask about.

they’d both lost you, and they felt it in the empty spaces you’d left behind.

ambessa, meanwhile, pulled back. she gave the reins to her daughter for an indeterminate amount of time, something viewed as largely positive and a sign of trust. but those who knew her interpreted it as a sign of grave danger.

her days were spent much like yours, wrapped in the endless heart of her bed which she only left to sink underneath the soapy water of a warm bath. there were several evenings where sevika would stumble home, slightly drunk but coherent enough to check on ambessa and yank her from the bottom of the bath.

“no,” she rasped, her hand tight on ambessa’s thick wrist. “you face it.”

and you?

well, eventually you realized that the world would continue to move on. blessedly, your breakdown hadn’t hit the headlines or social media platforms. you knew this had to be the work of them, but it was the least you deserved. you cut all arrangements you had leftover. the gifts were boxed up and put into storage.

despite your dramatics, you reminded yourself to not be stupid. all cash you had kept was deposited into your bank account, in increments so it wasn’t flagged as suspicious. you had well over thousands, so you broke your lease and found a block several miles from where you used to be.

you’d invited clleo to live with you, but she’d refused citing her current suitor as her preferred living situation. she felt that he was the one, that they would marry. you felt your bitterness rise up, but you shot it right in the middle of its scaled head. you were happy for her, you said instead of “he doesn’t mean it. please don’t believe him.”

please send an invite.

she’d cupped your face and kissed your cheek. of course. you’ve been with me through everything.

so, you broke another lease and left the city.

ACT IV: REVIVAL.

true to her word, clleo did get married, and she did more than invite you. you were her maid of honor; the only bridesmaid at that. this meant that you were captured into a lavish gown that showed more skin than you thought would be appropriate.

“we can’t forget where we came from,” clleo had said coquettishly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. she treated you so fragilely now, and you clung to it. you were pretending it was something else.

the wedding was a spectacle of opulence—ivory drapes cascading from every corner of the venue, chandeliers dripping crystal tears, and flowers so fragrant they felt like an embrace. the air buzzed with the cloying sweetness of a celebration meant to declare love eternal. you floated through it all, a wraith in your own right, bound by duty and the magnetic pull of clleo’s joy. you wore the dress she picked for you: black satin that crushed in on itself like paper whenever you moved and clung like sin, with lace so delicate it felt like a secret. it revealed too much and not enough all at once. you wondered if she’d done it on purpose, if she’d wanted you to stand out or to feel exposed. to embarrass you.

no, this was clleo. you were simply…paranoid now.

the ceremony was a blur, a kaleidoscope of vows and veils, of clleo’s radiant smile and the way her hand trembled in her husband’s. you caught the bouquet because she’d aimed it at you, her laugh like champagne bubbles bursting in the air. it was later, during the reception, that you felt it—that electric hum at the back of your neck, the awareness of being watched. you turned, and there they were.

ambessa and sevika.

they stood together, an impenetrable force against the crowd. ambessa’s gaze was as sharp as ever, her golden gown gleaming meanly, a study in power and restraint. sevika, beside her, had the air of someone caught between worlds, her hand resting on a glass of something dark, her eyes locked on you. they hadn’t been invited. you knew this because clleo would have warned you. yet here they were, as if summoned by the threads of some cruel, cosmic joke.

your stomach tightened, but you refused to look away. instead, you tilted your chin, the soft wave of your hair catching the light, and took a slow sip of wine. if they wanted to haunt you, they would have to work for it.

it didn’t take long. ambessa approached first, her steps deliberate, her presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. “you look beautiful,” she said, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret. you hated how your skin warmed under her gaze.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you replied, though the edge in your voice felt dull, worn down by something deeper.

sevika joined her then, her expression inscrutable but her proximity unnerving. “we needed to see you,” she said, her voice rougher, as if it cost her something to speak.

“at a wedding? how romantic.” you let the words hang, your lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “good thing it’s not mine.”

sevika’s lips twitched, and you scowled. your pain was not for her amusement.

“[name], we made mistakes,” ambessa said, and for the first time, there was something fragile in her tone, a crack in the glass. it distracted you from your ire. “but we haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

you set your glass down, your fingers trembling against the crystal stem. “i don’t think this is the time or place.”

“when is?” sevika countered, her voice steady but her eyes revealing something raw. “you’ve been avoiding us.”

“i said i never wanted to speak to either one of you again and yet, here you are,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and longing. “do you think crashing a wedding will fix what you broke?”

ambessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “we’re not here to fix it. we’re here because we can’t let it end like this. and it’s not crashing if the groom extends an invite at the behest of the bride.”

your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the noise of the reception faded into a dull roar. clleo’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, a reminder of where you were, of what you’d tried so hard to rebuild. why did everyone betray you?

“i can’t do this,” you whispered, stepping back. the movement felt like tearing yourself in two.

“baby girl,” sevika said, her voice low, almost pleading. “look at me. this isn’t some big scheme, okay? let’s talk. we don’t even have to do it here. we can go anywhere you fucking want. just like before, mama.”

you shook your head, the weight of their words pressing against the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. “i need air,” you said, your voice barely audible, and before they could respond, you turned and slipped into the crowd.

“[name!]” ambessa called.

fuck being the tiger's bride, you were the tiger. you stood your ground, kept walking.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the gardens were quiet, the air cool against your skin as you leaned against the wrought-iron railing. the night sky stretched endlessly above you, an intricate canvas of stars that felt too indifferent to your pain. but the world wasn’t responsible for soothing you.

you’d thought the distance would help, that the cool air would clear your head, but instead, it only magnified the ache in your chest.

you heard them before you saw them, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. you didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge their presence, but you felt it—that charge, that unbearable pull that had slaughtered you repeatedly since the beginning.

“i didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“we’re not asking for forgiveness,” ambessa said, her voice soft but firm. “we are willing—we’re willing to take what we can get. we want to make this right.”

you turned then, your eyes meeting hers, and for the first time, you saw it—the vulnerability, the regret. sevika stood slightly behind her, her expression shadowed but her eyes fixed on you with the same intensity.

“and what does that look like?” you asked, your voice breaking despite yourself. “what could you possibly do to undo the damage?”

ambessa stepped closer, her hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “we can’t undo it,” she admitted. “but we can promise to be better. to show you that you’re the only thing that matters.”

“you’re both so good with words. but words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed by action.” you laughed then, a bitter sound that cut through the stillness. “you always made me feel like i mattered. that’s why it hurt so much. i have no place between you.

sevika finally spoke, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “then let us prove it. on your terms.”

“you’re not good for me.”

ambessa glided forward, caught your chin inbetween her thumb and index finger.

“nothing in this world that we want with so much intensity will ever be good for us.”

you looked between them, your heart a battlefield between desire and self-preservation. the silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. finally, you broke out of her grasp, a small, tentative gesture that felt like stepping off a cliff.

“i have no place between you,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper.

sevika's shoulders sagged with disappointment, but ambessa’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. she was like a bloodhound with weakness.

“is that what you want, lamb?” you looked up at her, sensing a shift in the air. “you want to be between us? coddled, warm, and safe?”

“ambessa—” sevika began, but the other woman held up a hand.

“you would’ve been fine if you had know that we were married from the beginning, hmm? is that it? your conscience would’ve been sated, right? because it’s not homewrecking or infidelity if the partners are aware of the others transgressions.”

“that’s not fair,” you snapped.

“mmm, well life isn’t. besides, you must be stupid if you think every client you’ve been with hasn’t once had someone waiting at home. this is your life, little lamb. your permanent affliction,” ambessa sneered. “i think you like it.”

you knew this game well. she pushed you, said the best things to make you act your worst. if you gave in, she won.

“fuck you, ambessa.”

“gladly,” she said with a small smile.

you scoffed, irritated beyond belief and moved to storm past her. by doing so, you gave her what she wanted. as you made an effort to leave, she cinched your waist with her arm and pulled you back into her chest. you could feel her breasts against your back, full and ripe like fruit.

“what are you doing?” you asked incredulously.

she didn’t answer, only hiked your dress up to press a ringed hand to your cunt. she held it there, groping the warmth of you until you were leaking in response. you let out a strangled squeal, legs kicking to no avail.

“see? you want us so badly. it’s like an instinct.”

you glanced at sevika, hoping for some fucking common sense but found her gazing at your lace-clad panties with something unfathomly angry lurking across her face.

“who the fuck gave you those?” she said quietly.

you stopped struggling, looking at her fully now. her stormy gaze lifted, piercing you like a spear through weak flesh.

“it wasn’t me, and ambessa never gifted you shit like this.”

“i had—i had other clients,” you answered and she rolled her shoulders, skulking forward. “but i bought these myself. i don’t see anyone else anymore. i can’t—i couldn’t. it was hard.”

her face softened at that, and she came closer. her large body covered the front of you, shielding your exposed body from any prying eyes. this meant that ambessa could slide the fabric to the side and dip a finger into your cunt. the slide was slick due to your drooling arousal, but the pain still startled you.

she was large, almost too much, but it seemed to burst a part of you that had been straining at its locks. you let loose a silent cry, shuddering desperately in her grasp as she explored you tenderly. sevika cooed, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“hold on,” she murmured into your mouth and you clutched onto her, gripping tighter as ambessa gave you over.

sevika walked you over to a small alcove, expertly hidden from immediate vision and grunted as she held you up with one arm—removing her jacket with the other. once the concrete floor was covered appropriately, she lowered you on top of it carefully.

you released her, but barely had a moment to thank her before she was on you. your first thought was that it was like before: relentless, tender, and crushing. her hands slid up your thighs until they grasped at your hips. you rocked into her, moaning softly as she squeezed the soft meat of your stomach. your breath came fast, labored and fueled by aching.

“it’s okay, baby. ‘m right here,” sevika said, her voice low and firm.

she pulled back, spreading your legs till the pink of your pussy was revealed to her hungry gaze. it winked at her, clenching around nothing the longer she looked.

“jesus, i’ve missed this,” she murmured.

you flushed, body pulsing hot with flame. from the side of you, ambessa came prowling. she lowered herself to her knees, back arching neatly as she crawled into the apex of your thighs. her mouth descended upon you with a fervor, her lips closing around your clit and sucking. your back bowed until you were practically hunched over her, hands in her thick hair.

she only adjusted herself so that she could better lick into you, her tongue lapping at every crevice of your cunt. you were dripping all over her face, hips bucking as you fucked forward onto her tongue. her hands came to cup the peach of your ass, squeezing and tugging until you felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. after a moment, ambessa pulled back and laughed as you tried to follow.

“sorry, little lamb, but i need to know if i’m doing a good job” she watched you, eyes sharp. “i know you are.”

you shivered at that, and she smiled. impatiently, you further opened your legs and pushed your sopping pussy toward her.

“c’mon. please.” when nothing happened, you let out a groan. “you’re doing a good job.”

“who’s doing a good job?” ambessa asked, moving closer.

you shivered again, your brain beginning to mottle and smear.

“you are, mommy.”

“fuck,” sevika groaned.

satisfied, ambessa suctioned her lips back over you. you let out a high moan, pushing your chest out. sevika reached over, tugging the bust down and exposing your tits. your nipples were straining toward her, so she dragged one in between your teeth. with a cry of surprise, you slammed your thighs closed around ambessa’s bobbing head. she did nothing to open them herself, only slapped a hand on your inner thigh to get you to correct yourself.

“yes, fuck,” you cried. “fuck, please. please. ohhhh.”

ambessa shook her head back and forth, letting herself get messy as she pushed her face deeper inside of your pussy. you were fully fucking her face now, your clit engorged and begging. whatever filter you’d had before was gone now; your mouth ran like water from a faucet.

“yeah. yeah, mommy, like that. eat your baby’s cunt. lick your girl’s pink little pussy.”

ambessa moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your ass. you bounced as much as you could, that warmth coiling deep inside your stomach. sevika was still teasing your tits, but she had a hand inside of herslef now—her pants pushed down for better access.

when you realized she was trying to rub one out, you came with a primal grunt. ambessa attempted to pull back but you kept her where she was with a firm hand at the nape of her neck. breathlessly, you coaxed sevika up for a kiss and then pulled her away by her hair.

“i want you to touch her,” you instructed. your voice was shaky as you edged toward your second orgasm.

it took her a minute to register what you meant and you watched her cheeks darken, her eyes flickering toward ambessa’s rippling back inbetween your legs and then back to you.

“i know you want to, sevi,” you murmured.

your mind was almost gone now; you were so close to heaven.

you could see her warring with herself, but you also knew her love for you would win out. with a curt nod, she moved until she was behind ambessa and lifted her dress until she was face to face with her naked ass. with an efficent movement, sevika pushed ambessa’s legs open so she could smell the musk of her large cunt. there was a moment where you weren’t sure if she would obey, but then she dived in—licking a large stripe between ambessa’s folds. you seized around ambessa’s tongue as she squealed in surprise, your orgasm pouring from you like honey.

you puhsed her off of you and crawled onto all fours, squatting slightly to make the push of your fingers easier as you entered yourself. despite not pleasuring you anymore, ambessa made no effort to move as sevika slapped a hand on her ass as she slurped at her pussy.

“holy shit,” ambessa muttered and you grinned.

“have you—have you touched each other like this before?” you asked, voice breaking as you reached that spot long your walls. “did you fuck when i left to try to stave the guilt?”

there was no answer, but ambessa stiffened. you laughed, bright and a little unhinged. it was confirmation that they’d thought about, but had never actually followed through. you were in a squatting position now, positioning your hips as you rode your own fingers. you wrist twinged in discomfort, but you were more determined to cum for a third time.

faster and faster, you rode. your head was turned up toward the ceiling of the alcove, your tits bouncing as you began to crest that wave. you closed your eyes, focusing on the shaky inhales of ambessa and the wet squelches of sevika feasting on her.

there was a pause, so you opened your eyes and found sevika flipping ambessa over so that the bigger woman sat on her face. like this, she was even more insatiable. she rocked ambessa back and forth on her face, spreading her own thighs weakly as heat cascaded through her.

you weren’t sure what did it: sevika’s newfound desperation to actually fuck her wife, ambessa’s unrelenting eye contact as she came, or the high whine sevika released when ambessa leaned back to fuck two fingers into her frantically pulsing cunt.

but whatever it was ravaged you. you screamed as you came for the third time, legs trembling as you squirted all over yourself and sevika’s suit jacket. the comedown was impossible. you were incoherent, moaning wildly as the pleasure possessed you.

you heard them both scrambling to move toward you, but you held a hand out. your neck bent, your body settling onto all fours like a lame animal as you let your cunt flutter and clench through the remnants of your orgasm. your chest heaved frantically, but you were euphoric. you’d done it, reached Heaven and taken control.

you glanced up at them and know from the look on their faces, you’ve never been this beautiful. if this was what the french called a little death, you wanted to die forever.

“this is your place,” ambessa said hoarsely. “you belong right in the center. you are the only one who understands. you are our center.”

sevika lay next to her, and she said nothing for a long while. then her face turned toward you. you met her gaze unflinching.

“baby girl, please. please.”

you thought you were the loser.

“it has to be different,” you finally said. the two women broke into identical smiles. “it has to be. i want you to be transparent with me. i’m not a little child.”

you thought you were down for the count.

“like you said,” you continued, staring right at them. “you are my life. this is my life.”

but here you were, the last woman standing.

⚚ special taglist: @venusiandyke @thatonetargaryen @drgnflyteabox @y2kas13 @baeumonde @blackdykegirlblogger @slut4sevika @sevikasllver @indigopearl96 @dut1fuldyk3 @imheadintothemountains @bambishaven @kirammansbow @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @nightlyconfusion @sevikasrightboob @half-of-a-gay @nsfwruru @yourlovesicklibra @tnash-tammy @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @bluferret @doppelman @savedforlaterr @sevikasserafim @fruitfulfashion @soniiyi @namuranguinhos @16novvs @bubblestrbls @spidercat-soccerfan @pllduniverse @sugrcookiiee @iwasholic @sevslefthand @starting6over @fxngsfxgxrty @leone007 @ambessaswhore @jvalentinelvr @bella-goths-wife @maaaaaaaaaaari @elena0497 @powderpinkandsweeet @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @pearldaisy @sevikas-whore @wolfessa @lazyartizt

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miniscapes333 · 7 days ago

Text

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

Paid readings availabe - check them out here 🫶🏾

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hargreeves-duncan · 6 months ago

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Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them.

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #request #anon

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madneedshelp · 2 years ago

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So I want to buy tickets for the Greta tour, but I’m not sure if I should do pit or not. I’ve never done pit or had barricade and I really want to try that, but what do you guys suggest?? Should I get pit or just do seat??

#help please I have no idea #I love greta but the pit people scare me sometimes but I also desperately want to be there #greta van fleet #gvf concert

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fantasmagoriazzz · 2 months ago

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ㅤ⭒̲Learning to share ;

ㅤㅤㅤ 🕸️⠀⧽ㅤBedtime.

Scenario where, somehow, you managed to take home both Mr. Crawling and Scarletella.

a/n: This was supposed to be an One-shot but I had so many ideas that adding them all in one would be too long, so.... Part one, I guess?

Even in the smallest situations, that tension between those two entities was present.... Every second.

Consistently palpable in the air; like the nature of a cat and a dog, tense glances at each other as "their human" took care of any task that didn't involve them at home.

The vast majority of the time, Crawling was usually a few steps behind you, looking as if there was nothing more entertaining on his world, for him there wasn't, only you.

Meanwhile, Scarletella... Even if his body didn't seem present, the feeling of his penetrating gaze, leaving the weight of his dark pupils on your shoulders... Never left you alone. Sometimes, when the back of your neck would bristle for no apparent reason outside the house, you would come to wonder if he followed you through the streets simply so he could continue watching you.

When Mr. Crawling would reach out seeking the warmth of your body, rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of your thighs as you stood, giggling, he would hug your legs and slide tentative caresses around your waist, begging for attention in whatever way needed, humming: " Touch! Touch! " And Scarletella would automatically appear, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on yours and pressing himself against your back, as if the very idea of Crawling touching you a second longer than he did seemed unthinkable to him.

When it was time to rest this didn't change.

They had both adapted to your schedule in the human world pretty quickly. The long period of your absence from home, your nightly outings to fetch them food and enjoy your hobby, gosh, there wasn't an hour away from home when the thought of them confronting each other in some way didn't cross your mind, even if it was a fleeting flash of concern.

They were wary of your attention, Crawling and Scarletella seemed to agree on nothing beyond their love for you... And on that going to bed was their favorite time of the day.

Every night before you went to bed you took a bath, and every time you left the small room amidst the warm steam and sweet scents, they both waited outside the door like eager puppies. Their ghoulish grins would lengthen as they watched you walk to bed. Mr. Crawling would quickly climb over the sheets and laugh expectantly at the thrill of feeling your body next to him, Scarletella rather wait for you to lie down first and then press himself against you immediately after.

Previously in your life, the double beds all to yourself were a relief, such available space made you rest even more comfortably. But now, snuggled between two shadowy bodies every night, it seemed much more pleasant than any previous night in your life could have been.

As soon as you curl up on the sheets two pairs of hands desperately search for you.

As far as you knew, they didn't need to sleep, not really. They could close their eyes and do so, resting next to you more for the pleasure of simply sleeping by your side. At other times one of them would lie awake, watching you intently, but luckily, the incidents of sharing a room didn't go beyond tense murmurs shared between those two ghosts.

The first few days you thought that sleeping on your back would be the most viable option, both could hug you in equal parts, you thought, but soon noticing that, when they both tried to cuddle on your chest and ended up face to face irremediably, the tension returned. Incomprehensible murmurs formed words you didn't yet know, only a few from your limited dictionary; " Human, mine. Don't touch. Me don't like you. " Cat and dog staring at each other, about to fight.

Well then, plan B.

You found that if you lay on your side, Scarletella would press his face against your shoulder and Mr. Crawling would snuggle into your chest, tame as little pleased puppies. There was something about your warmth that fascinated them, and when you lay down after a recent bath, with that warmth permeating your skin along with the wet feeling on it and the sweet scents wafting off you, they were both drawn to you like bees to honey.

Scarletella pressed his chest against your back, brushed the tip of his nose against the nape of your neck and sighed slowly against it, his cold breath ruffled the skin nearby, and somehow, he seemed to notice the soft tingles his touches left on you, that his icy touches, before warming against your flesh, would make you snuggle against him like two pieces that fit perfectly. He held you so close, your perfume invaded him completely as your warmth pressed against his cold body, when his lips brushed the skin of your shoulders he felt like he could go crazy, he could taste you, have you... Scarletella's hands were always reaching for your waist, going crazy when he can feel the bare skin under your clothes.

And Crawling had nothing to envy, the smiling entity wedged his face between your chest, the warmth and softness of your breasts made from time to time one of his gentle giggles drown against your skin and send warm tingles to the deepest corner in your belly, he adored your scent, he adored you, and he found the sound of your heartbeat equally or more intoxicating than having you in his arms. Tentatively, from time to time, his head would move a little higher, his hair tickling you as he seemed to seek your neck with his lips to simply brush them close to your skin. His corners were pulled a little higher as he felt the small sighs and pleased hums reverberate in your throat.

More than a kiss, the caresses of both cold mouths tried to emulate one by instinct, the instinct to want you, to have you, to desire you...

Usually, it was Crawling who made the first move.

As time passed and the warmth of your body filled theirs, between your scent and your soft sleepy caresses, a hand for each of them; something accompanied the firm embrace they both had on you. Something more noticeable, and harder.

Mr. Crawling pressed against your thigh, slowly, as the breath caressing your chest became shaky you could sense what he intended, and wanted. No matter how many times it happened, Crawling always pushed slowly, shyly almost against you.

" No sleep? " he would murmur in a huff, whenever he heard you sigh behind his movements, almost afraid that you might forbid him to touch you. You never would, to either of them, but there's something about his neediness that makes it adorable. " Me like you, can I...? " He strokes his hard erection against the soft bare skin of your thigh once more, and immediately, the length that all this time had been pressed against your ass mimics the slow movement, cutting off your breath.

"You... Mine. " Between the faint whispers, Scarletella presses his forehead against your shoulder, pushing his hips into you, just as slowly. Knowing he must share you adds another layer to the simmering possessiveness inside him, he clings to your waist warily each time, even if he seems ever watchful of the begginig of these situations.

In that position, watching his bulge rub against the fabric of your pajama shorts, knowing he can feel you, fascinated that you are his too... It's not clear if it fuel or calms his overflowing possessiveness.

They did nothing but hold you possessively, wrapping their arms around you and brushing their mouths against your skin. Both bulges brush against your body between messy thrusts, their shuddering breaths caressing you near the nape of your neck and against it. Lips that once delicately caressed the touch of your skin feel moist as they murmur to you the declarations of two obsessive lovers.

" love you, love you, love you. " In unison of a hot, sweet chorus, hearing them so close, feeling them harden against your body, feeling them so needy for you...

" Two... I like you two. " You whispered, trying to remember that strange language correctly when only they manage to occupy your head.

Immediately Scarletella's fingers on your waist tightened a little more, Crawling laughed. " You two, I like you, I like you, I like you. " You repeated.

So you cannot simply refuse the whims of the two beings you love the most.

Your hands sneak under the sheets, and they both know perfectly well what you will do, for their movements stop against the needs of the three of you, now, they don't want to get in your way.

You gasp through the darkness, awkwardly tug your shorts down, and you can feel a pair of hungry fingers helping you tug at any garment that might cover your lower half.

Wet, the first warm, fleshy length slips between your thighs, you're still not done hissing a sweet purr of pleasure when the second fleshy extension repeats the action. Two throbbing erections rub against your naked sex, soaking wet and just as dripping as both of them. Rarely, Mr. Crawling and Scarletella coordinate once more, as your gaze wanders upward lost in pleasure, both men begin a new, slow back-and-forth, making sure they can feel your intoxicating heat, one by one, you could almost swear they take turns rubbing your clit against each of their veiny lengths, lunging slowly in intermittent thrusts.

" Me like you... Me like you... " whispers the voice against your ear, kissing over your shoulder messily. You're still so lost in the wet sensation of Scarletella's cold tongue tasting your nape, that the slippery trace of one more lick sliding between your breasts steals your breath. "Like you, like you, like you. " Mr. Crawling lifts his chin, guiding his tongue down your collarbones and into your neck in a single long lick that continues until caress your chin. You squeeze your thighs together, and swear you heard them both moan.

" You like me? " Crawling asked, weak, breathless, his voice trembling softly amidst the heat that makes him beg for more of your attention. Scarletella exhaled deeply against the back of your neck, you can feel his lips tighten after a particularly needy lunge between your thighs.

" You like me? " the redhead's voice repeated. Heavens, not now.

The thrust of both hips increased their rhythm, your voice cracking between whimpers that trigger the heat in the body of those two. They both collaborate in a messy massage to your clitoris, one against the other, relentlessly rubbing the sensitive little button peeking between your dripping folds. " Like me? You like me? " repeats the timbre of a messy voice between desirous moans. Did only one of them speak, or did their voices blend again as one, inside the intoxicated perception of your mind?

Scarletella takes his hand a little lower, slides his fingers until he can squeeze the spongy flesh on your butt.

Crawling, still sucking under your chin, he clutches his fingers between the soft skin of your thigh, guides your leg carefully up, raising it over his hip. Irremediably your lips quiver and your back arches at the new position. Now more exposed, your soaked, sensitive folds embrace the head of each erection as they brush against your most sensitive spot, threatening to slide inside you, never moving beyond thrusts against dripping nether lips.

" Like me? You like me? " Again, their voices interject one over the other as they beg insistently. You hear them whimper near your ears and gasp after each thrust, constant spasms leave your legs quivering with the perfect attentions to your body, but you still find it so hard to focus on any thoughts now.

You feel a thin trail slide along your corners, a thin thread of saliva threatening to create itself, picked up immediately by a wet, slippery caress against your corner.

" Me? Me? " Mr. Crawling's voice implores for an answer with the tone you'd swear belongs to a needy puppy, his tongue tasting the edge of your lips, and you immediately hear Scarletella mumble warily.

Scarletella sneaks his remaining hand close to your chin, turning your head just a little more, carefully, looking for his tongue to be able to reach the edge of your quivering lips as well. " You like me? " He asks, Crawling tightens the grip that caresses your thigh a little more, as if he might draw you closer.

You feel it once again, that look they give each other, the tense attention that seems to shoot sparkles through the how it bristles your skin at the danger of a fight, even now. You open your mouth, you should stop them, reproach them, but only.... "Two... Both... " You whimper, your watery pupils unable to focus on anything amidst the darkness, faint tears form at the edge of your eyes. It feels so good, so good you could sob with the hot tension melting in your belly every time one of them rubs against you. " Both.... Love... Me love both... " You spin the words somehow, a spark of lucidity still helping you find what you want to say, what you need them to understand.

"I Love both... Touch me more. " You command, and it is when they look at your disastrous expression, with half-open lips whispering sweet words and sinful moans, that their hearts delighted by you manage to form a truce.

Crawling slides his long tongue over your neck, his hot exhalations crashing against freshly moistened skin as Scarletella slides the beginnings of small bites to the edge of your shoulders. The room is no more than a disastrous chorus of three ecstatic voices, riotous compliments to you, loving words between the moans of both ghosts. Sweet murmurs that don't stop even as you squirt over both throbbing erections, desire-filled words that intensify and stumble awkwardly between syllables, as they both spill between your mixed fluid-soaked folds.

Crawling and Scarletella lie beside you, their chests, just as heaving as yours, breathing deeply as they cling to you and make you wonder if they really need the air as much as you do. Hot spurts spill between your thighs, both hiding their faces against your body as they purr incomprehensible moans and ecstatic compliments. They repeat how much they like you over and over, as you catch your breath.

So, you will have to take another bath in the morning.

#mr crawling x reader #mr scarletella x reader #mr crawling x you #mr scarletella x you #homicipher smut #homicipher fanfiction

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boobav · 3 months ago

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Viktor this season has rlly inspired me. I hope you all enjoy the various drabbles :) I'll try write more here.

The first time you met Viktor, you recall, the sun was shining.

The meeting was perfectly ordinary. Not even a meeting, really, seeing as you learnt his name a week later.

With a cool breeze, you ate your lunch in silence, head held to the sun as though a flower in bloom. You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Meditative perfection.

And when you reopened them, he was there.

Half-frozen in the doorway, he gazed at you with what seemed like surprise, at the time. Later you'd learn that he was, from his own words, mesmerised.

"Professor." He'd said in polite greeting, looking away. You smiled, but he left the way he came before any conversation could commence.

The next meeting, he was the one sat outside, silently pondering something. You'd found his expression of concentration endearing beyond words. The furrow of his brows, the occasional, unconscious movement of his lips. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

The weather that afternoon, when you'd strolled over to properly introduce yourself to the man, was similarly bright. A perfect blue running across the sky. A songbird somewhere unseen, and the breeze defined by its almost supernatural ability to alleviate.

You weren't superstitious, nor did you believe in signs, an elusive, irrational concept. But with his presence offering as much warmth as the sun, with the way his eyes ran nervously from yours only to return, bound by some societal principal of politeness, with the way he tested your name on his tongue that cloudless day, you thought maybe there really was something to the concept. Some sign leading you to him.

"How about we get lunch sometime?" You hadn't exactly thought the offer out. But his smile alone was quick to convince you of the idea.

"Of course," Viktor said, "are you... free now?"

"I think I had something planned, but I seem to have forgotten all about it..."

For a few months, then, you re-learnt what it meant to be alive.

To meet someone so perfectly in tune with your every move seemed fantastical, seemed like a sign. You spent free weekends not hunched over a desk, stressed beyond articulation, but with Viktor. You learnt of his work, learnt of the pure brilliance that bloomed at the mere touch of his hands.

And you learnt every contour of those hands. Pressed your lips into the palms, into every scar and cut. A fleeting remedy, but one he grew unable to live without. For he, too, had to re-learn what it meant to be alive.

He felt astoundingly undeserving of what you seemed so willing to provide. More than love, but adoration. Something almost approaching worship. He felt the weakness of his own body so acutely with yours pressed against it, so terribly perfect. Whatever scar or mark you seemed to mention in distaste, he loved. He thought, maybe, that you were some kind of sign. That things would get better. That the traitor he called a body would recover or, at least, stop wilting away.

But nothing changed. Not really.

Learning of his illness wasn't a shock, because it wasn't a secret. Jayce mentioned it to you often. The real shock came on slow. Like a spider taking it's time to crawl up your spine. As the months passed, the extent of its deteriorating effect showed itself. Viktor's heart, weak against your own. The bags under his eyes darkening further, his pale skin sinking pallid.

Happiness, by some twisted measure or other, seems to run from its owner more often than not.

You think you're living in a state of euphoria, a state of perfection for so long, the way we were supposed to exist. You feel as though nothing could break this film of joy over your life, that you're somehow exempt from reality.

But you're not.

Overtime, Viktor shut himself off. He spent more and more time in the lab. He had very little to say. When you broke down, the only consolation he could offer was a quiet apology, mumbled from across the room.

You dreamt of consolation. Every night, from then on. Endless fields of restorative ideas. Endless ways to make him feel better, to be there for him even if he found the idea ludicrous.

Because why would you waste your time with him? He knows you're better off somewhere else, stretched out in the warm weather without a burden as heavy as him on your back. The pillar you were in his life, crumbled by his own hand. He deemed it necessary. Convinced himself so.

But what could you do?

You could barely comprehend his struggle. How could you even begin to ease it?

This thought process kept you from physically seeking this dream of yours. A warning sign from your mind, a psychological guard rail which, in reality, only protected you from yourself. All these flowery ideas of reconciliation, bouquets of roses and trays of baked goods in your mind, and yet, you did nothing.

The attack on the council made sure that you'd never have the chance.

Jayce had been the one to tell you. Tell you that among the victims was the dream gifted to you every night, the man you viewed as an inseparable extension of yourself. And when you visited, stared up at whatever the hexcore was doing to Viktor, you felt an unparalleled hatred.

For yourself, for your failings and shortcomings. Every time a word came out wrong. Every time a day ended in silence.

Rising tensions, blood on the city streets. Soon, you had nothing left in Piltover besides a few shattered friends.

So you left.

Of course, you felt that you'd never see Viktor again.

Even if somehow he survived the critical condition he lay struggling in, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to speak to you. Perhaps out of self preservation. Perhaps out of genuine belief.

A knock at the door was already uncommon. And, certainly, a knock that specific. Gentle, apprehensive. You stumbled out of bed with an undeniable sense of neuroticism, convincing yourself of the knocks familiarity whilst simultaneously convincing yourself of your own delusion.

But, there he was.

Wrapped in a robe, which to you appeared regal, the blue sky beyond framing his pale face, was Viktor. A songbird carried the news, then another, but your words seemed inadequate compared to theirs.

He raises a hand to cup your face, the flesh replaced with something firm, something running with a strength he himself barely comprehends.

You place a kiss on his palm.

#arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane

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bunnigumi · 2 months ago

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─ FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

YOU KNOW HOW hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

cw. megumi x reader , incest , porn with plot , reader described with small chest , brief mentions of drinking/smoking , Toji is referred to as dad/daddy (nonsexual) , light exhibitionism , dead dove

an. hi guys!! thank you!! for!! 600+ followers!!!!! i lowkey accidently edged you guys at the end srry in advance i didn't have motivation to write out a full smut scene and i hope theres no typos in this bc ill cry if i see it too late... happy reading ^u^ ^_<

There's a lot of things Megumi can't do when Toji's around. Shower for too long and use up all the hot water, sneak his beers. Get handsy with his sister.

But he seems to do the last one all the time, whether his dad is home or not.

Toji is always too loud watching baseball or horse racing on the TV to hear the noises you make when your brother tries to shove his fingers up your virgin ass for the second time. You chickened out the first because you heard the front door open, your dad coming home for the first time in weeks.

Thought he was going to walk in on the two of you. Ask how your day was, what you've been up to. Something along the lines of what a normal dad would do. All he ever does is mope around. She's dead and you're all grown up.

But Megumi likes to humor you, Let's do it under the covers then.

Especially when you're so irrational, Wanna feel good, right? He won't hear a thing by the time I get my fingers in.

Sometimes he's too passed out drunk to see the bedroom door open with Megumi's hands groping your breasts. They're too small to be properly fondled, but he's always liked girls with small tits.

You've shared a room since forever. There's only two, one for you and Megumi, and one for your parents. But daddy spends most of the nights on the couch, never makes it a step past the living room.

It probably wasn't the best idea. Megumi started touching you all inappropriately at night, your stuffed dolls from family friend facing away when he fingers you, fucks you, kisses you.

You know how hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

Your brother liked to kiss you a lot when you were younger. Regardless of where you were, who you were with. Simple, fleeting kisses on the lips. Your mom and dad would do it all the time.

Grown ups would fawn over how cute you were as children. How well you two got along. How they wished their children were as well behaved as you two were.

It's not all weird for their age. Shiu said it's just what kids do, kids are parrots, not that he has any. But'chya better teach ‘em it's not normal, or you’re gonna have inbred grandbabies. He says it with a quirked lip, chuckling, and a cigarette in between his fingers.

Your dad, unfazed, gnawed on his own, the sliding door open, summer on your face. Puppy stickers trailing up on the glass that don't make it past the handle.

On a good day, Toji's got a Playboy magazine in one hand, a cold bottle in the other. C'mere, boy. He likes to call Megumi from your room to taunt him. Don't she look just like your sister? Flat out drunk. Well, with that rack, it's more like your ma. See, now this one's more like your sister. Isn't that funny?

He tears out the page, careful to not cut through the model's hips, and tosses it in Megumi's direction. His eyes never leaving the magazine. Not even when he takes a swig of the bottle.

Don't fucking talk about your daughter like that. The hell's wrong with you? Megumi says it partially under his breath. And he says it like he isn't hard in front of his dad, like it's not because of the thought of his sister.

His face twitches with mock disgust. It's as if he isn't folding the page and slipping it into his pocket when he heads back to your shared room.

It all went through one ear and out the other—television static. Toji doesn't look up, doesn't notice Megumi leave. The daggers stabbed into his hollow head. The hard on his son’s got at the mention of his sister. He never notices anything at all.

And it's whatever. You're waiting for him. You want to show him the new panties you bought when you were out with your girlfriends, the money courtesy of your brother. Not in exchange for sex, of course. He loves you more than to treat you like a prostitue. Plus, you'd do it for free, so that makes you a good sister slut.

Megumi doesn't like his new part time all too much. ‘Part time’ means being away from you, leaving you alone. Government code to keep families apart. Buy whatever you like. You're a people pleaser.

Your dad babies you a lot. He still doesn't understand how teenagers work. Coddles you to death like you're still five when his breath smells like spearmint.

It's about the same for Megumi, that kiddy treatment. Still offers runs out to the nearby store to buy ice cream, loitering for the air conditioning on days when cold baths with you aren't enough to kill the heat. Sticking their faces in freezers, your mom twirling you in circles. Letting you go like a wind up doll, spinning and spinning ‘till the world was dizzy.

You inherited her smile, her upturned eyes when you laughed.

And you hate the way Toji let himself go. The person he became. The safety, the warmth. Detached too early from nurturing. Spiraling all the way down from the tree, the nest.

You, me, your sister. Like we used to.

He never got his ass off the couch. Not for those recreational things at least. Everyone knows that, but Toji still tries.

Not to say that Megumi isn't a fan of tradition. Cold baths with you, having you warm his dick while he washes your hair with strawberry, 3-in-1 kid shampoo. Sucking your little tits and biting down on your tender neck. Rubbing your needy clit in circles, your hips bucking, water sloshing. Suds popping and flying in the air. Soapy residue clinging to tile walls.

Your dad doesn't question why you still do it together when you're in your teenage years, or how you two should have outgrown baths already. It's a win-win situation.

He never has a reason to leave; no wife to nag him about remembering to buy fabric softener at the store with the groceries because he forgot the last time. It's not that important, only sissies need soft clothes to survive.

Tugging at the hem of your uniform shirt, slipping on your shoes and leaning on the door handle you’d drill holes into the Toji-shaped spot and the door is quietly shut behind you, your brother still asleep.

When he does leave, it's for days on end. And you never really notice when he does until you’re on your way out the door to school in the early morning, and there's no one on the couch, not a note on the counter.

He's gotten into the college near home and has been taking on more night shifts. Most of his classes start in the afternoon and you miss walking with him to school.

Megumi's the one paying attention to you more, and even extra attention on nights when dad isn't home and he's back from work.

You can be as loud as you need to be, fuck as much as you want. You've grown to be one spoiled girl, that's for sure.

Toji saw him feeling you up once in the kitchen when he went to grab leftover takeout from the fridge. You thought he wasn't home. Turned out he hadn't left the house since yesterday, passed out in his room. Still smelled like a bar, nicotine, and a skank.

You think it's the first time he actually slept there since, well, you know.

The hell you kids doing. It wasn't a question. He said it with a yawn, with glaring indifference in the base of his tone. Megumi ignored the way his shoulders were slumped over. How he rested his weight on the fridge handle.

And you could act like it didn't happen, like your older brother wasn't pressing up against your backside, trying to stick his junk inside of you.

Nothing, daddy. It's all in your imagination. Just playing. You've just been watching too many pornos. By the way, are you hungover? Your breath reeks of cumsluts and prostitute whores.

Megumi finds that Toji tends to only register the sound of your voice rather than your words. He'd gotten pretty good at that thing with your mother. When you hit puberty, you started to sound like her.

And it's easy for Toji to turn a blind eye. To forget and be at ease. Megumi could really just have continued to go and fuck you right there over the kitchen counter. You're real good at quick and dirty. There’d be the high pitch of your moans and Toji could care less.

It's what happens when you have a dead mom, a college roommate of a dad, and a touchy brother for a family.

Shiu managed to lure Toji out of the house tonight with the promise of girls and booze. Like a dog hearing the words ‘park’ and ‘treat’. Pathetic, is what it is.

You’re wrapping your hand around your older brother’s cock. Pressing your cheek against his thigh. Pleading eyes staring up at him because you’re unsure of how to start. Red knees on scratchy hardwood floor. It's been a while since you had time for foreplay more than kissing and fingering.

“Suck it like a popsicle. Careful with your teeth,” He says in a low voice. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

You've always been a quick learner. Daddy doesn’t know that. Grey rings on unopened report cards turned coasters.

But your brother sure does. He likes to encourage your learning with a hand tangled into your hair. And he’s not all too strict of a teacher, relenting in his grasp when you dig your nails into the side of his legs. Pulling off with saliva dripping down your chin. Lips pouty and shredded like paper, your jaw aching. Thighs rubbing together, always desperate for something more.

Megumi lifts you up onto his lap so that you're straddling him, and taking the initiative, you throw your arms around his neck—pressing your bodies together, grinding down on him and zealously chasing after his lips.

You love like it's second nature.

Intimately to the ideal of union. Crossing lines just to hear the way they snap, it's more satisfying from the other side. In privileged rebellion; the temptation that comes with this taboo of want.

He can taste himself on you, with notes of sugar from home baked cookies and cheap frosting on your tongue.

Megumi has to force you still, his hands squeezing tight around your waist.

Petulant like a child, a whine leaves your mouth at the halt of friction. He manhandles your position so that your back is resting on his chest. Legs dangling off the edge of the bed, kicking and making a soft thumping noise against its side.

Lifting up the hem of your shirt, his shirt that you’re wearing, reveals nothing but white panties soaked wet from the way your brother nips at your bottom lip when you kiss, from humping him, the way he loves you, too.

He shoves your panties to the side, smearing your slick all over your cunt with his fingers, onto your clit. He rubs light circles, eliciting breathy moans from you before abruptly stopping to pull your underwear down the rest of the way, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Resting his chin on your shoulder and marking the dip between your neck and shoulder with red indents of his teeth, the sting of his canines, he slips his middle finger into your cunt. The ring, to stretch you out. Then the index, to see how much you can take.

Facing the open door, no one's on the couch while your big brothers got a hand between your thighs. The other sliding under your shirt, agonizingly slow up your chest in a way that sends shivers up your spine, translating into hunger for your brain.

You don't wear bras at home, but you enjoy wearing frilly, lacy ones. Little white bows on the center of your chest. Dolly and cute to the point it was sexy, but not overly so. In blue and pink pastels bordering white.

Megumi was always poked fun at for hanging out with you during lunch and breaks in middle school. Always badgered by his rag-tag group of friends.

C’mon, Fushiguro. Hang out with us. Just for today at least. That pink haired one was always so whiny. Cute, maybe, but whiny. Or what about after school? You always go straight home. He got on your nerves. You hated him.

Only sister fuckers hang out with them at school. The brunette was fairly pretty. Skinny legs, good tits. Glossy lips when she said her snide remarks. You always had this fear that Megumi would leave you for her. Irrational, did he mention? You shot her a glare, green eyed monster, and hated her too.

You’d ask Megumi to follow you to the girls bathroom after lunch. Undoing the buttons of your blazer. The first, second, third one of your dress shirt—flashing starstruck eyes with a new bra. Arms pushing your breasts together, offering him a sweet smile. Lustful persuasion.

Then you would leave him for class and he'd have to jerk off to get rid of his boner. In a stall over the toilet, quick so no one hears him. Grinding his teeth together, biting down on his lip, chewing the side of his mouth to muffle the noise until it all hurt.

You’ve always liked to rile him up. To leave him high and dry, no hand holding on the way home, then give him all of you the second you step into the door without so much as a glance to see if anyone's in the house.

You like to tease him, even whenever Toji is near.

Simulating the tent in his pants with your feet under the table while daddy is smoking with Shiu.

Staring at your brother from across with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Waiting for his cool composure to break until he’s got only two options: Bend you over the table and fuck you right then and there, or play his little sister’s game, her rules. Puppy dog eyed, exhibitionist freak.

Your hips continuously grind up to meet his knuckles. Clutching his wrist, whispering as he curiously stops his attack on your neck, “More. Want more,” and you hold your breath.

You feel him smile on your skin. Without a word, he flips you onto the mattress, and knows exactly what you want, exactly what you need by the way you hook your legs over his back, locking your ankles together. Pulling him in closer. Effectively caging him in. The world can't have him. You've claimed your stake on him a long time ago.

And the words that leave your mouth feel nothing but natural. Your voice is airy, breathy. This insatiable desire tugs harshly at your heart.

Your lips purse together for a moment, just a single moment before the words seamlessly roll off your tongue.

“I love you," like you were born to do.

#cw: incest #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #cw: dark content #tw: dark content #tw: incest #megumi x reader

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misssilversunny · 1 month ago

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Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

#yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batboys #neglected reader #spoiled reader #obsession reader #That's what I'll call them #I am not tagging all of the DC villains and vigilantes

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fear-is-truth · 15 days ago

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wow i love the way you write nam-gyu! would you mind writing his attempt to make things right if he was given a second chance in a relationship? I’m basing this off of your last post with him where you said if he was given a second chance he would at least genuinely try. Have a great day! ❤️

NAM-GYU ❝ TRYING ❞ TO BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND. . .

content — gn!reader ・nam-gyu is still toxic & overall a shitty boyfriend・headcanons

a/n — i love this horrid man.

he starts overcompensating in small, almost pitiful ways. buying you gifts you didn’t ask for, running errands he wouldn’t have done before, doing the dishes without being asked. it’s as though he thinks he can earn your forgiveness through sheer persistence.

and it works because the bar is so low to begin with, it’s practically a tripping hazard in hell.

he’s not above love-bombing if it means keeping you. but it’s not entirely manipulative—there’s a small part of him that genuinely believes he can be better, even if he doesn’t know what that looks like.

he doesn’t like when you talk about the breakup. he’ll deflect, change the subject, or turn it into a joke. the idea of revisiting that time makes him feel pathetic, and he absolutely hates that.

keeps asking you if you’re happy. the question comes out of nowhere—he needs constant reassurance, like your happiness is the only proof he has that he’s not screwing this up again.

no matter how much he wants to try and fix things, he can’t completely shake the bitterness. deep down, he hates being the one begging for forgiveness. sometimes it slips out in muttered comments or passive-aggressive digs when he feels like he’s not being appreciated enough for trying.

gets this haunted look when you mention any moment from the time you were apart. it doesn’t matter if it’s innocent or unrelated to him—he’ll start overthinking it. where were you? who were you with?

paranoid about losing you again, and it shows in the way he checks your phone, asks too many questions about where you’ve been, or sulks when you spend time with other people.

if you call him out, he’ll switch gears fast. nam-gyu knows exactly what to say to deflect blame or make you second-guess your own feelings. he’s silver-tongued in a way that makes you want to forgive him, even when you know you probably shouldn’t.

despite his efforts, nam-gyu has a habit of reverting to old patterns. he gets frustrated when things don’t improve immediately and lashes out verbally. but as soon as he sees your hurt expression, he’s quick to backtrack, softening his tone and apologising—but the authenticity is up for debate.

there are sporadic bursts of effort. maybe he remembers a small detail you mentioned in passing and surprises you with it, or he takes you somewhere meaningful to “start fresh.” these moments feel real because, for a fleeting second, they are. but they’re often short-lived, drowned out by his issues.

he tries to hold back when you fight, but sometimes he just slips. the venom comes out before he can stop it, and the second he sees your face fall, he’s begging for forgiveness. the cycle exhausts you both.

tries to make up for his outbursts with affection. his hands are always on you—your waist, your wrist, the back of your neck. sure it’s possessive, but there’s a desperation to it too, because he’s trying to prove he still has a right to touch you.

there’s a subtle change in the way he looks at you now. before, there was always the arrogance of knowing you’d stick around no matter what. now, he’s bracing himself for the moment you’ll tell him it’s over for good.

he convinces himself that as long as you’re still there, things can get better. even if he doesn’t fully believe in his own ability to change, he holds onto the idea that you believe in him. it’s a crutch, one that keeps him from truly taking accountability but also keeps him trying—and he is. but there’s also a part of him that still believes he can’t fully change, that this is just who he is, and it’s up to you to decide if you can live with it.

#namgyu #namgyu x reader #nam gyu #namgyu x y/n #player 124 #player 124 x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #squid game headcanons #namgyu headcanons #nam gyu x reader #namgyu fluff #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic

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wstviewvidal · 2 months ago

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christmas blues- n. romanoff

pairing: natasha romanoff x r

summary: while attending a christmas party with natasha, she reveals her feelings towards you

a/n: hi! hope u are all enjoying the holidays if you celebrate! i wrote this last month and wanted to hand it over to you guys! enjoy!

minors do not interact

after natasha got out of a three year long relationship, she was fully convinced that she would never get into another again. she was absolutely heartbroken after maria broke up with her. she promised herself that her career would stay her main priority and wouldn’t entertain a love life again.

the breakup was messy, the whole company knew about it and everyone saw how natasha wanted to hide. she found herself laying in bed past ten in the morning— avoiding all responsibility for months.

natasha often stared at the ceiling at night, replaying the last fight that led to their breakup. maria’s voice would be sharp and cold. even months later, natasha still couldn’t couldn’t get rid of the hollow ache her ex-girlfriend had left. the alarm clock would blare, but she wouldn’t bother to turn it off— what was the point?

that was until you.

you caught her off guard, like a golden-pink sunrise after a harsh long night. somehow you’d brought life back into her eyes, you’d given her purpose again.

the first time natasha had a genuine laugh after maria was because of you. you’d spilled iced coffee all over your white blouse, but instead of getting angry— you made a joke out of it. she laughed hard enough that she snorted, something that surprised the both of you.

she’d forgotten what it felt like to have a genuine smile grace her face.

shortly after that, she found herself constantly in your orbit. not that you had an issue with it.

natasha couldn’t stop glancing at you in meetings, her fingers would graze yours under the table when she knew no one was looking. the way her eyes and voice softened when she spoke to you— natasha romanoff was in love, everyone could see that.

you two have been dating for almost two years now and it seemed like the honeymoon stage was never ending.

sure, you two had your arguments but the idea of either of you being mad at each other for over an hour seemed silly— so every problem was solved as soon as it even happened.

you two had been just colleagues before you two started dating. you’d nursed her back to life after the breakup and somewhere in the midst of all of that, you two became something more than colleagues and way beyond friends.

the fleeting glances in the hallway turned into knowing looks in meetings. the shared lunch break turned into dinner after work. you two had moved past being just colleagues and eventually became girlfriends.

you met her family seven months after you two started officially dating.

you even go out with her younger sister alone, you see her as your own sister now. when there’s a romanoff family event, there’s no doubt about whether or not you’ll be there.

you two were the epitome of lovebirds and everyone either cheered you two on or envied you.

“you and the mrs. coming to the christmas party this weekend?” tony asks as he walks into the kitchen where natasha is brewing a fresh cup of coffee.

looking over her shoulder at him with a slight eye roll at his teasing tone, “yes, tony, my girlfriend and i will be there.”

she lets out a gentle smile at the way that rolls of her tongue. she’s called you her girlfriend numerous times in the past two years but can’t help but feel like a schoolgirl every time. something about having someone to call her own is a feeling she’d never get over.

tony watches her with a glint in his eyes, his teasing demeanor gone and instead filled with pride.

although he can be rough around the edges sometimes, he cares deeply for his friends. beyond the smart quips and teases, he only wants the best for his people.

which is why he was beyond the moon when you two started dating. he’d tried to set natasha up with suitors numerous times before you came along but couldn’t quite get it right.

until you caught her by storm.

leaning against the countertop on the other side of the kitchen, he beams at natasha, “i’m really happy for you, you know that? you’ve come a long way, and i think your girl’s got a reason to do with it.”

natasha smiles at his words, knowing he doesn’t say that stuff often so she takes it to heart.

“thank you, tony. i think so too. after the break up with maria, i thought id give up on the whole dating thing. i’m so glad i didn’t.”

arriving home from work, natasha’s greeted with the smell of dinner and a james bond movie playing in the living room.

you’d always been attentive to natasha and have always known how to take care of her, something she’s always appreciated and voiced. she’d grown up always being perceptive and aware of others, so now that she’s the one being watched and listened to, her heart swells with adoration and affection.

coming up behind you as you cook, she wraps her arms around your waist and leans into you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“smells amazing, my love. what’re you making?”

you smile and lean back into natasha’s hold, “remember when you took me to italy for my birthday earlier this year and i fell in love with that one plate? i found online and wanted to try it tonight.”

natasha had surprised you with tickets to italy, somewhere she knew you’d always wanted to visit.

before you two started dating, you’d spend a lot of time walking around the park and talking about your bucket list— you only told her about wanting to go to italy once.

natasha smiles and nods, remembering your vacation and how she wished she wasn’t such an over thinker. she would’ve proposed to you then and there at lake como.

as you finish cooking, natasha helps you plate the food and takes it to the kitchen table.

you two eat and talk about how your week has gone and how youre excited for tony’s party.

you’d gone out to buy a new dress, one that’s more on the holiday theme. the dark wine color is one you know natasha loves on you, which is why is hung up behind your bedroom door.

“we don’t have to be there for long. i know after a while it can get rowdy and i don’t know if you’ll be up for that,” natasha says as she brings a fork up to her mouth.

she avoids your gaze as she focuses on cutting her food. odd.

furrowing your brows and shaking your head at her statement, “nonsense, we’ll stay. don’t worry about it, we can just find a quiet place with our friends if anything. we usually do that anyway.”

the afternoon of the party, you two find yourselves in a familiar routine.

while you do your hair, natasha does her makeup. natasha usually asks you to ‘help’ her with her hair even though she really doesn’t need it— she just loves how you look when you’re focused.

especially when it’s her you’re focused on.

“you know, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” natasha says as she puts on her dangling pearl earrings. she’s said something along the lines of not going at least five times since last night’s dinner.

turning to look at her with your eyebrows raised, “do you not want to go? you’ve said that a few times already and it sounds like you don’t want to go.”

natasha looks over at you and sighs softly, “i do, i just wanted to do something today the both of us since christmas falls during the week this week. we could’ve had a personal christmas, you know, just the two of us.”

letting out an exhale of a laugh, you walk over to her as she sits on the bed watching you and place a soft kiss on her cheek.

“we don’t have to stay too long, okay?” you fix her hair so that it’s laying nice in place, “we can just show face.”

natasha nods softly and leans into your hand while you hold her face as you speak to her, “okay.”

you watch her through the mirror as you do your makeup and can see by the small furrow in her brow and the way she keeps fiddling with her watch, something is off with her.

you don’t acknowledge it, but want to get through tonight as quickly as possible to make sure you two can have the rest of the christmas weekend to yourselves.

the room is decorated beautifully in a festive atmosphere. warm christmas lights are all along the ceiling and the christmas tree is adorned with gold ornaments all around. you can even smell gingerbread in the air.

tony went above and beyond this year.

natasha led you in with a hand on your lower back and you can’t help but smile at the contact. she’s felt the need to always have a hand on you in some way. when you two sat down, she would rub your thigh in a soothing matter or would play with your hair as she stood behind you while you sat.

wanda waltzes up through the crowd with champagne in her hand, “you guys made it!”

she hugs you tightly and greets you with a friendly smile, then moving onto greeting natasha, “you guys missed it! tony got sam to sing karaoke and the whole place turned into a concert,” she beams.

the energy of the party sweeps you off your feet and it isn’t long before both you and natasha find yourselves engrossed in conversations with your friends. her hand never leaves the small of your back, it comforts both you and her. you and wanda share stories about your previous holiday traditions and natasha lets out a soft chuckle, warming the space between you two.

natasha apologizes to tony as you finally get to him almost an hour after you first walk in, “sorry we’re seeing you so late. we would’ve been here earlier if someone would’ve been ready sooner.” she subtly gestures to you with a tilt of her head,

you give natasha a playful glare as she says this, “i see how it is.”

natasha gives your waist a light squeeze, a gesture to show she’s joking with you. her green eyes dripping in adoration as she leans in closer to you, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear it, “you look stunning, my love. always worth the wait.”

a blush creeps up your neck and you roll your eyes playfully, and tony laughs just before he’s pulled off into host duties.

the two of you walk around the party, exchanging pleasantries with colleagues and joking around with friends. sharing a drink, you two clink your champagne glasses in celebration, “to another stark christmas and to surviving the never ending hors d’oeuvres.”

the night is perfect and you find yourself feeling at home with natasha. you love the company— that the party has died down so now it’s just you two and your closest friends at the end of the night.

you all sit at the coffee table, nursing cups of coffee and sharing pastries that tony had hidden just to bring out for this time of the night. you’re leaned into natasha, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles against your thigh as she rests her hand on your leg.

you all are playing a friendly game of truth or dare and it was finally natasha’s turn.

she was dared by wanda to dance with you in front of everyone. simple.

“that’s your dare? easy,” natasha stands up and reaches out for your hand with a smile on her face, “milady.”

you giggle softly, shaking your head in disbelief and letting her pull you up, “you’re so corny.”

“but you love me,” natasha replies, matter-of-factly. she places a hand on your waist and holds your other in the air. your checks hurt from smiling widely and laughing all night.

natasha spins you around dramatically as you laugh heartily. she whispers softly in your ear that she loves you— you blush so noticeably that the group begins to whistle and cheer.

you two sit back on your side of the couch as the rest of the group continues, your head resting on natasha’s shoulder.

tony is in the middle of doing his dare when the elevator doors open up to a late guest. somehow, the door opening leads to the air feeling a bit tense. is it only you feeling that way?

“is that maria?” wanda whispers, it falling from her lips so quickly that she didn’t have the chance to hold it in before it came out.

natasha’s smile falters just a small amount before her face goes to a neutral expression in record timing. the hand that was just on your thigh a second ago is nowhere near your body, and she’s subtly moved in a way that made you pull your face away from her shoulder.

it’s like her warm and loving demeanor switched off in an instant, but then she catches your eye and gives you a half smile— is that guilt you see in her eyes?

before you can even ask her if she’s okay, you’re interrupted.

“sorry i’m late, i had to finish some last minute paperwork but i didn’t want to not show up at all.”

maria walks in commanding attention and respect. she doesn’t consciously do it, it’s just how she is— always has been. it’s not like you hated her, she never gave you a reason to.

she and natasha haven’t made eye contact, but you can feel natasha’s body go rigid right next to you, like shes expecting something to happen. the shift in natasha’s energy is unmistakable, one that leaves you uneasy as you sit next to her.

your heart sinks slowly as you realize that maria’s presence has dampened your girlfriend’s mood and part of you is worried about it. your heart sinks heavily, your body now feels ten times heavier.

the room didn’t go quiet, but natasha did. the hand that was always on you was now fiddling with her necklace, a tell you knew all too well. she was trying to anchor herself back down to earth.

maria finds a seat opposite on the couch, away from you and your girlfriend. you can see how natasha is averting her eyes from that area of the room and keeping her hands away from you.

you exchange worried glances with wanda who’s next to you, silently asking her what happened. wanda gives you a solemn look that you can’t quite place.

you sigh softly and try to place your hand in top of natasha’s, but just as you get close enough, she moves her hand away from you. it was so subtle that it couldve been mistaken as an honest mistake, but you know better.

you try to hide your frown as you look down, the stray piece of lint on your dress now looking a lot more interesting all of a sudden. you steady your breathing as much as possible, your emotions now getting close to boiling over.

the game continues and it’s finally natasha’s turn, she chooses truth.

clint smirks softly as he brings the beer bottle up to his lips, taking a swig before asking, “okay, let’s make this interesting. do you see yourself getting married?”

clint loves the two of you, matter of fact— everyone in the room has constantly rooted for the two of you. it took you two a while before you even officially started dating, so now that you two are together, the team loves how you bring the best in natasha.

the group laughs a little, almost like they already know natasha will, without hesitation, say that she does— with you.

natasha’s silence silences the group and you can see maria smirking subtly through the corner of your eye.

does she have something to do with why natasha’s hesitating to answer the question?

i mean, you and nat have both spoken about marriage in the past. she told you she couldn’t wait to get married and build a house an hour away from the city with you. why is she silent?

the group is now uncomfortably quiet at natasha’s red face and her lack of eye contact with anyone.

you glance over at nat, your heart heavy at the lack of response, apprehensive about her answer.

after a beat, natasha clears her throat and fiddles with the beer bottle cap in her fingers, “marriage? i.. i don’t know about that. maybe if i find the right person in the future.”

maybe if i find the right person?

your heart drops and you swear you could fall over any second. you try to mask your hurt by looking down at the ground. natasha had always reassured you about her feelings and intentions towards you. what happened?

“that’s understandable,” maria hums softly, her tone light, “you don’t want to vow your life to someone you don’t see a forever with.”

tony turns the attention away from the two of you quickly and finds another game to play, one that won’t lead to the potential demise of a relationship.

even though truth or dare is now over, you can feel some of your friends casting glances over in your direction to make sure you’re okay. you try to focus your attention on the jenga game that’s going on, but all you can think about is how natasha said she doesn’t see marriage with you.

is it because maria’s here?

you try to convince yourself maybe she’s having an off day, or maybe she’s just tired and wants to leave. after all, she didn’t want to come to the party in the first place.

the party slowly calms down and everyone is talking amongst themselves, but you find yourself growing quieter as the night progresses. natasha’s words echo in your head as you try to distract yourself by paying attention to whatever it is tony is talking about animatedly from across the couch.

natasha’s arm rests on the back of the couch, and you notice that ever since maria entered, she hasn’t reached for you.

maria is across the room talking to steve and sam about a past mission she went on and you can’t help but watch her. it’s not that you’re mad at her— why would you be? she didn’t force natasha to say what she said. you hate that you’re watching her every move now— especially because you can see that natasha is glancing in her direction every few minutes. it’s subtle and quick, but you notice it.

you get up and walk to the bar across the room. your girlfriend doesn’t follow.

you try your best to steady yourself as you make a quick drink. you watch from the other side, alone, as you see natasha talking to the group and laughing with them like nothing happened. you can see her gaze lands on maria for a few seconds longer than you were comfortable with.

you sigh softly and rub your temples as you try to bring yourself back to earth. maybe you’re overthinking and natasha will talk about it later with you at home.

the drive home is eerily quiet. you stare out the window and press your fingernails into your palms, an old habit that’s resurfacing. one that natasha helped you break at the beginning of your relationship.

“you’ve been quiet,” natasha says softly, almost hesitantly. maybe she knows what’s next. she’s treading with caution.

“i’m just tired”

“right,” natasha says as she pulls into the driveway and parks the car, “tired.”

you hold in a breath and exit the car, not even waiting to see if natasha will open the door for you. you know she won’t.

you try to gather the courage to say something as the two of you walk in and hang up your coats. you can feel your stomach heavy, your limbs feel like they could fall off at any second— you could break down at any second.

“what a par-“

“we need to talk”

you two speak at the same time and natasha immediately grimaces. it’s like she was hoping you’d forget what happened.

natasha tries to act busy as she takes off her shoes, her voice low, “about what?”

you scoff, “about what? natasha, you basically said you don’t see a future with me. we’ve talked about marriage before, about how it was what we both wanted— with each other..” you trail off, your voice wavers, but you press on. “is this temporary?”

natasha exhales harshly, making your heart drop, “that’s not what i meant by it.”

“really? because we seemed on the same page, but tonight when maria walked in, all of a sudden it was like our relationship didn’t exist.” you were letting your emotions out, no longer holding back your hurt.

natasha rubs her face and you look at her eyes. you see guilt and remorse, something that you rarely see with her— you feel sick.

exhaling sharply and looking at you with a guilt ridden expression, “she was my first serious relationship, the one i thought i would marry. after we broke up, i convinced myself i would never do that again— she broke me.”

you furrow your eyebrows and cross your arms, expression sharp, “and what does she have to do with me?”

“everything! she has everything to do with this!” natasha exclaims, her voice cracking, “when maria walked in, i realized i can’t give you the future you deserve. i can’t do it! i have so much baggage and you-“ her voice softens, “you don’t deserve to be with someone who’s going to throw that on you.”

you stand there, the weight of her words suffocating you, “so you’re going to push me away because you’re afraid?”

natasha looks at you with tears in her eyes and you can’t help but want to reach out to her, comfort her.

but this isn’t the natasha you fell in love with.

“i don’t know how to fix this,” she says, taking a few steps away from you, like she’s afraid for be near you.

you take a steadying breath and close your eyes, something about tonight has a sense of finality— one you didn’t ask for but can’t avoid, “natasha, i love you— so much, but i can’t be with someone and see a future with them when all they’re doing is looking over their shoulder at their past. it’s unfair to me.”

natasha’s lip quivers so subtly that if you didn’t know her so well, you’d have missed it, “are you leaving me?”

she places a hand on her chest, rubbing her collarbone in an nervous habit you can’t help but recognize. you can see how this is hurting her, but you know it’s unfair to continue being with someone who became unsure in such a short amount of time.

“i don’t want to, nat, but i think the fact that you saw maria for just an hour and this happened.. it means you need to figure out what you really want. seeing her one time shouldn’t have led you to being unsure.”

natasha watches you with tears in her eyes, fiddling with the ring on her finger. she nods softly, she knows it’s unfair to you how she switched up in such a short amount of time.

“i love you,” she tries to sound confident, but you can hear how defeated she sounds.

you smile sadly and place a gentle hand on her cheek, “you need to prove that to yourself, natasha. figure out what you want, without maria lingering in the back of your mind. it’s not good for you, us. maybe we can try again in the future when it’s past you.”

you pull your hand away reluctantly, the loss of her warmth hitting you immediately. natasha doesn’t stop you, not even as you pack your bags and leave.

#noe writes #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x r #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #christmas blues #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

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bisexualiteaa · 2 months ago

Note

Omg! You should totally do one where he’s sexually frustrated. And the reader (female), teases him until he breaks! And when he does they get down to business BIG time if you know what i mean lol. But even when they do start to fuck the reader doesn’t listen to all his demands, making it more spicy once silco finally gets the reader exactly how he wants her.

On edge

AN: Thank you so much for this request!! I loved the idea so much and literally had so much fun writing this! Apologies that it took a few days, I again just wanted to make sure it was good and to what you asked! ♥️ I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

CW: no use of y/n, reader has hair, reader is AFAB, female anatomy, MDNI, cursing, teasing, heavy brät/brät tämer themes, Silco is t0uch deprived, r0ugh seggs, unprotected seggs, bïting, cream 🥧, slight dëgradation, p0rn w/o plot, äftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Also I’m not sure why, but as I was writing I was listening to this song and I just feel like it fits SO well! So listen along while you read if you’d like!

His forehead head sat in his hand as you entered his office, elbow leaned against the desk as his other hand held a glass, amber liquid and two ice cubes swirling around inside the ornate rocks glass. Whiskey, he only drank on the rougher days anymore, and judging by the cigar that sat in the ash tray on his desk, smoke emanating from it, told you he was having a day. You on the other hand, were in a different sort of mood, a bubbly, perhaps more mischievous mood. You weren’t quite sure what brought it about, whether it was your confidence just hitting a new high today, or what but you could tell from the sassy sway to your hips as you shut the door carefully behind you. Something you didn’t realize had in fact been noticed by him, he was just doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Rough day?” You asked innocently, sauntering over to his side as you stood beside him. The scent of your perfume filled his nose the moment you moved closer, leaving him to inhale its intoxicating scent. Sometimes he wondered if you mixed a sort of drug into it with the way he craved its familiarity, wishing to smell it on his sheets, his jacket. When he did, it drove him wild, the transfer of it from just a simple hug was enough to leave him clutching the large jacket and taking a whiff on occasion when no one was looking or when he was alone in his office. Each time he did, he could feel his cock twitch with excitement as his mind would then drift to you. Sinful thoughts filling his mind of how good you would look splayed against his sheets beneath him, or how you would look bent over his desk as he ravaged you. Shimmer had nowhere near the effects that you had on him, it was almost impressive as much as it was sad. How long had it been that the simple scent of your perfume could cause him to go mad? Or for your fleeting touches to leave him with such carnal need? He couldn’t remember, but you made him feel young again in that sense.

“Quite” he replied plainly, placing the glass down on the desk, trading it for his cigar that had already been halfway smoked. You watched as he took a long drag of it before leaning back and releasing the smoke in an exhale upwards, ensuring he wouldn’t breathe it into your face. You loved the scent of his cigars, something about the tobacco mixed with smoke and his own personal scent left you enjoying being around him as he smoked more than you probably should have. There was something just so alluring about it. “Every time I turn around it feels as if something has fallen apart and is in need of my attention” he finally explained, leaving you to look upon him sympathetically. The lines of stress etched into his forehead and brow spoke truth of this, the bags beginning to accumulate beneath his eyes only further evidence to his unrest. Your hand came to rest against his thigh, rubbing soothing circles along his skin. Something you’d done in the hopes it would help him calm down a little, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t have ulterior motives behind it.

You felt his body tense for a moment from the soft touch, looking down at your hand that rested against his mid thigh. It was so close, so close yet so far. He wondered how it would look in your small, dainty hands, how good it would feel. He turned his head and shifted a little to try and erase the thought from his mind, but even as you removed your hand, its heat lingered on the spot like a painful reminder. “Zaun looks to their leader for guidance and aid, but even a leader deserves rest” you said, smoothing your hands along his jacket, flattening any wrinkles that formed from his previously hunched over position. You were bent over as you did, the shirt you were wearing giving him direct sight to your cleavage as your perfume continued to intoxicate him. Did you have any idea the things you were doing to him? Surely you had to, you couldn’t be so oblivious to your effect on him, could you? He was ashamed of the hold you had on him, how weak you made him from just a simple touch. He tried his best to hide it, and hide it well, but as you stood here before him he knew today may very well be the day he reaches his breaking point. “I’m granted no rest when someone walks through my door just about every hour” he replied, making you hum as you stood back up, watching his eyes trail you as you walked back over to the door. He felt himself release a breath he had no idea he’d been holding in as you put a slight distance between you. “Then lock it” you said with a cute little grin, the bolt turning in the door with an audible click before you turned back around, watching him clutch the cigar between his fingers with a fierce grip. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, no one has ever looked at you like that, with such fire in their eyes, with such desire. It made your stomach twist in knots. “No one can bother you if they can’t get in” you finished before returning to his side, this time watching as you boldly sat on an empty corner of his desk.

You couldn’t quite read the look on his face as you did, but you had noticed the way his eyes would flit up and down your body when he thought you weren’t looking. He took in the way your pencil skirt seemed to raise past your mid thigh as you sat down, giving him a flash of your panties from beneath it when you would go to cross your legs, leaving him incredibly hard beneath his pants. You were toying with him, you had to be. There was no way you were doing this all unknowing of the effects you had on him. Pathetically, he was falling for it, and he hated that he was. He caught the glimpse of a grin resting on your sweet, plump lips as your downcast gaze trailed him up and down, waiting for a response. You were teasing him on purpose. “You play with fire” he stated, making you giggle. “I know, I can’t help myself. I like the possibilities of being burnt” you answered confidently, your foot dragging up and down his calf affectionately. Janna almighty you’ll be the death of him, but if that were to be the case, what a hell of a way to go.

You watched him as he stood before you, hands planting on either side of your thighs as his face hovered close to yours. “You think you’re so clever? Waltzing in here with that short little skirt, teasing me and think I wouldn’t notice?” He asked, making you hum as your grin only stretched wider. “Seemed to be working just fine, was it not?” You asked in reply, feeling as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart to allow him a place to stand between before pulling you to the edge of his desk where your hips met his. “You tell me, what do you think?” he replied, leaving you to gasp softly as you felt him pulse and twitch against your heat. “I think I have you wrapped around my little finger” you boldly claimed, your fingers walking up along his jacket before your arms looped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him but never fully closing the distance. “You think so?” He asked in response, making you giggle. That same smug grin rested on your lips as electricity thrummed between you, your faces mere centimeters apart, waiting to see if he would cave in. Your gaze flit to his lips with heavy lids, enjoying the mental turmoil you were putting him through as he fought caving in immediately. “You want me so bad? Come get me” you whispered, your breath ghosting across his lips as they hovered so very close to his own. He needed you in ways he couldn’t even begin to try and explain.

So he caved.

You felt his hand come to rest on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you even closer, finally closing the distance between you as his lips captured yours. The kiss was fiery, passionate and messy, a gravely groan leaving him into it. You could feel the rumble in his chest from it, paired with the way his lips danced against your own told you how long he’d been wanting this, how much he’d been needing this. Needing you. You couldn’t help the smile that stretched to your lips into it, thinking of all the ways that you could push his limits. Your hand smoothed down his chest, toying with his tie as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, an effort to push the kiss further into something more intimate. You giggled as you denied him, earning an impatient groan in response as his free hand groped your ass roughly, making you moan. The moment you did, he took his chance, his tongue exploring you as it tangled with your own in a messy clash of teeth, tongue and lips. It had you dizzy.

When he pulled back he looked you over, not caring this time if you laid witness to it or not. He took the moment to take in how your chest heaved with each labored breath, how your cheeks were flushed, lips shining with swapped saliva. “Gonna keep staring at me? Or you gonna do something about that problem of yours?” You asked with a cocky grin, making him chuckle darkly. “Oh it will be fixed, but it won’t be me fixing it” he said, yanking on your hair to pull your head back, earning a pathetic whine from you as it made you look up at him, finding yourself unable to bite back in this position. “You caused it, you fix it” he ordered, making you moan as he rolled his hips against your own, brushing his painfully hard cock against your panty clad cunt, allotting you some much needed friction and stimulation. All you could do was look up at him, excitement and anticipation filling your gaze leaving him to chuckle. “No witty come back to that? I give you the smallest taste of how good I can make you feel and you give up just like that, hmm?” He asked smuggly, making your face grow hot with defeat before he let up on his grip in your hair. “Strip” he commanded, making you stand up and work at untucking your shirt before unbuttoning it slowly. He watched as every button came undone, more of your gorgeous body was revealed to him, his eyes raking over your curves. The fabric soon dropped to the floor haphazardly next to his desk, to be forgotten about until later when it would be needed again. Next was your bra. His eyes were trained on you as he watched you unhook the backing, allowing it to slide down your arms and join your shirt in a growing pile. Your nipples had hardened from the temperature change, the exposure to the air and from the excitement coursing through you in anticipation of what was to come next. Then came your skirt, its simple button and zipper being undone allowing it to drop to the floor and pool around your feet with ease, earning a groan from him at the sight of you nearly naked before him. You hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties, working them down from your hips before they fell to your ankles, leaving you to kick them off to the side with rest of the pile. You watched with much intrigue and entertainment as he seemed to twitch with anticipation and need for you, making you giggle.

“How long has it been?” You asked curiously, a cocky grin on your lips and confidence in your tone as you looked at him, looping your arms around his neck. There it was again, your perfume, overwhelming his senses. “I beg your pardon?” He asked, brows furrowed and sending a rather defensive look your way. “How long has it been?” You asked again, watching as he looked you up and down. “Since?” He asked in reply, not seeming to understand what you were hinting at, or maybe he preferred you just spit it out. “Since you had sex. Can tell by the tension in your shoulders and the way you practically moan with every touch that it’s been a while” you pointed out playfully, making him a little angry that you managed to get beneath his surface and figure him out so well. “You best be careful of that mouth of yours. My kindness, even with you, has its limits” he responded, making you hum. “Then go ahead, be mean. I’m a big girl, I can take it” you challenged making him walk closer to you, inching you towards the edge of his desk. “You want me to be mean, do you?” He asked, the rasp of his voice lowering to a much deeper tone, a crooked smile resting on his lips. He couldn’t lie, the slight tinge of fear resting in your eyes when you felt your back hit his desk, telling you there was nowhere left to go, awakened something dark within him. Something carnal, animalistic. You looked like nothing more than helpless, vulnerable prey, and he was about to eat you alive. You couldn’t deny the predatory look in his eyes certainly worked wonders on you in return. “Don’t look so concerned…” he started, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek gently before leaning in close, leaving his lips just millimeters from yours.

“I’m about to make your day” he finished, his words mixed with the feel of his breath ghosting your lips so closely send a shiver through you in excitement.

It wasn’t long before his pants were around his ankles, thrusting his cock balls deep into your soaked cunt. Your shared panting and moans, paired with the creaking and screeching of the poor desk beneath you that had been slowly inching its way across the floor with each thrust, filled the room. Should anyone walk past his office, there would be no mistaking what was happening just behind the door. Though you supposed your moans could have likely alerted all of Zaun at this rate, with your first orgasm of the night already past you, it’d be a miracle if no one could hear you. Your head was tilted back as he drilled into you, gripping your hips with a bruising pressure as your arms looped around his neck for leverage. You watched as he looked down to the space where your bodies were connected, watching his length disappeared inside of you with ease. He couldn’t help but to notice the little white ring that rested at the base of his length from your previous orgasm as the sound of his hips smacking roughly against your ass filled the room. “Fuck! Oh gods, yes!” You moaned, making him grin. “How long has it been?” He asked, looking to you, waiting for a response from you but your pleasure-idled mind was so foggy you could hardly understand what he was asking you. “Since? Oh fuck! Right there!!” You replied the best you could, tilting your head back again, leaving your tits just inches from his face as your back arched upwards towards him. “Since someone fucked you right. Since someone made you feel this good” he finished, making you whine as his hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks as he forced you to look back up at him. The cute pout that rested on your face, occasionally morphing into ones of pleasure each time his tip bullied your cervix, had him rutting into you harder. “Never! Not ‘til you- oh!” You managed, making him chuckle as he relinquished you from his grip. “Pathetic. You put up all that fuss, do all that teasing and yet I still manage to get you right where I want you” he said through grunts of pleasure, his neatly slicked back hair slightly falling against his forehead that had a thin sheen of sweat. “Feels so good! Oh gods, Silco!” You moan pathetically, knowing he was exactly right but you didn’t care. You’d spend every night here like this with him if he made you feel this good every time.

You felt as that familiar sensation in your lower belly began to take root again as his lips captured your own in a messy but passionate kiss, your moans raising in pitch and growing closer together a clear sign that you were close. As if on que, his fingers traveled between your bodies, coming to rub your clit to give you that added bit of friction you so desperately needed. You gasped before moving your hips against his and his fingers, meeting his merciless thrusts and fucking yourself on his fingers. “You’re right where you belong. Beneath me like this, cumming on my cock as I please you like no one else ever will” he said, rubbing your clit faster to make up for the way his thrusts were beginning to lose rhythm. You were so close to finally falling over the precipice, your body feeling as if it were catching on fire as your every nerve ending lit up. His words were what sent you there. “You’re mine” he growled, biting into your shoulder as you came together, his bite sending you toppling over the edge into pure bliss, while your walls squeezed him tight, milking him of everything he’d been holding in for far too long. Your body twitched and spasmed with the intensity of your second orgasm of the night, a pleased hum leaving you as you felt him cum inside of you, throbbing repeatedly as he emptied everything into you.

You both sat there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms together, fighting to catch your breath. You watched him smooth his hair back with his hand, doing his best to get it out of his face and back to how it was originally styled, or at least the closest he could get it. You smiled as he kissed you softly, leaving you to cup his dance gently in your hands. “Are you alright?” He asked into it, checking to make sure he hadn’t overdone it and hurt you. You gave a hum then a giggle. “I feel wonderful” you said with a bubbly grin, making him chuckle as he continued to kiss you, not wishing to leave your arms or the taste of your sweet lips just yet. “Good, as do I” he replied, making you grin even wider. “Fuck yes you do” you said, playfully yet truthfully, making you both laugh. “Oh is that so? Have I ruined anyone else for you?” He asked, the hint of possessiveness in his tone as his lips traced down your neck. “You might have. Not that I care to find out, you said it yourself; this is exactly where I belong, and it’s exactly where I intend to stay” you said, your head tilted a little to grant him better access to your sensitive skin. You heard him groan next to your ear as his lips lingered upon all your most sensitive spots.

What caught you by absolute surprise was the sensation of him throbbing within you, twitching to life again from inside of you. You gave a gasp with both intrigue and excitement as he looked to you with a grin. Apparently your words had let the monster out, because stay there you would for nearly the rest of the night, getting lost in one another without a care for how sore you’d be tomorrow. It was well worth it when you were with him.

#asks #asks open #send asks #smut #arcane #arcane scenarios #arcane series #arcane smut #silco x you #silco smut #silco fanfic #silco x reader #silco arcane #arcane silco #silco #arcane fanfic #anon ask #thanks anon!

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rottiens · 3 months ago

Text

✮ tags. established relationship, thighs fucking, fem!reader, praising (good girl, attagirl).

✮ notes. I mean had to,,, Isagi with a thighs kink is asking me to write this (please expect more on this ksjd), thanks for reading! divider creds: adornedwithlight.

✮ wc. 3.0k

This is Isagi's first official relationship, and sometimes that makes him feel unsure about how he should act or whether he should choose his words more carefully now that you've gone from being best friends to being a couple. You're his girlfriend, and while he used to fantasize about the idea many times, experiencing it in reality —holding your hand, receiving your sweet kisses— till brings a knot in his stomach. Every time he calls you “his girl” or “his girlfriend,” the weight of the word reminds him that this time it's real and not a dream like the ones he had so many times.

However, despite the trust that clearly exists between you, there are certain aspects of himself that cause him discomfort that he can't ignore... a tension in his stomach that comes with a mixture of nerves and guilt. That feeling squeezes him inside every time he thinks of confessing to you, for example, how much he is fascinated by your thighs and the things he has come to imagine when he sees them.

And you, without realizing it, don't make things easy either with your clothing choices: those short skirts that leave little to the imagination, tight dresses, or when you decide to cover your legs with black stockings or knee-high socks. Sometimes, it seems like you do it on purpose, given how often Isagi has gotten a glimpse of your panties peeking out from between the folds of your skirt every time you bend over.

As Isagi relives this feeling of embarrassment again, you are kneeling on the floor, curiously exploring the contents of an antique box, filled with Isagi's memories. Dusty framed photos, trophies and medals won throughout his career, little relics that speak of his accomplishments and passion that fill you with pride and curiosity as you continue your exploration. Isagi is lying on the bed, leaning on several pillows and holding his phone in his hand, but unable to resist glancing at you from time to time. He watches every time you pull out an object, admire it and take a picture of it, and although he finds you adorable, he keeps his comments to himself, quietly enjoying the scene.

Then, you pull out an old shirt from one of his previous teams, and hold it in front of him with a mischievous smile. His gaze softens, the memories stirring some nostalgia in him.

“Can I try it on?” you ask, cocking your face to one side with an innocent air.

Without much thought, Isagi nods and sets his phone down on the side of the mattress, this time focused entirely on you. At times like this, he's thankful he's wearing baggy shorts, otherwise you'd instantly notice the effect you're having on him. The cotton hirt, a somewhat faded navy blue, reaches just above your thighs, threatening to reveal more than it should if you decide to raise your arms or move nonchalantly around his room. The possibility of that happening, that the tiny skirt rises a little higher than it should, makes his breathing quicken a little, knowing that this time, the glimpse of your panties could last much longer than a fleeting moment.

Isagi clears his throat, trying to hide the blush that colors his face, but the attempt only makes his shyness even more apparent. With hurried movements, he grabs a pillow and places it over his crotch, hoping you won't notice his erection.

“I love the way it looks on you... much better than it does on me,” he lets out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, though the slight tremor in his voice gives it away. “You can keep it, if you want.” He smiles at you, trying to keep his composure, while his eyes can't help but roam over the way the fabric molds to your body.

You get up from the floor and, after smoothing the shirt down a little, you walk over to the bed. You slide down on all fours until you're settled between his legs, with the pillow still sandwiched between you like a fragile barrier. Your arms entwine around his neck, and at that moment he inhales deeply: now you smell of him, of the memories impregnated in that old shirt that hadn't seen the light for years, and you also smell of you, of that sweet, floral perfume that every time you wear it awakens in him a mixture of intense feelings.

“Thank you. Of course I wanna keep it,” you murmur before peppering his face with a shower of fleeting kisses, each one making it even harder for him to ignore the closeness. The softness of your lips, the touch of your fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, cause him to let out a soft moan. You pause for a moment, pulling away to look at him intently, watching the expression on his face.

“You look... so tense all of a sudden. Is everything okay?” you ask, your eyes searching for some sign of what's going through his mind. You watch his cheeks, now as flushed as you had noticed from before, when you were not yet so close.

For a moment, Isagi finds himself at a loss as to what to do with his own hands. Finally he decides to place them on your lower back, leaving them there, still. Then, he spreads his thighs a little further apart to give you space and allow you to settle better between them. Sitting back on your heels, your gaze, laden with sweet, lingering concern, seems to pierce him, and that unsettles him. His blue eyes soften as he swallows saliva, wetting his dry throat before trying to say something. It was now or never.

You have been friends forever. You had known him in childhood, and what started as sporadic conversations soon turned into long, deep talks in which he felt increasingly exposed and understood. When he was away from home, just a phone call from you was enough to comfort him, to remind him that all the effort and sacrifice in his career would one day pay off.

He trusted you absolutely, in every word of support and in the certainty that, come what may, there was nothing that could scare you away. You knew his most hidden and secret fears, even some of his desires and aspirations that he had never shared with anyone else. If, deep down, you rejected that confession about his obsession with your thighs, that was okay; at least it wasn't as embarrassing as admitting how much he loved it when you praised him, right?

Isagi lets out a sigh, as if he had finally dropped a weight he was carrying. “It's nothing, it's just... you look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, his voice laden with that mixture of nervousness and yearning he tries so hard to hide. At his confession, your shoulders drop visibly relaxed, though you hold your posture, waiting for him to continue. “I'm gonna say it, as weird as it sounds, but your thighs...” His words snap, and your eyes widen barely, as a hesitant smile threatens to form on your lips.

“I know,” you reply softly, and hearing you, Isagi feels his heart beat even harder. You have lightened the burden of his words by acknowledging something he had always been afraid to say aloud. “I've noticed, you're not exactly... discreet,” you add, and a soft, sparkling chuckle escapes from you, causing his muscles to tense with a current of excitement and nerves. Then, leaning in just barely close, you tell him in a low, expectant voice, “I don't think it's strange. But I want to hear, exactly, what you think.”

Those last words hang in the air between you, and he feels a current of honesty and vulnerability begin to work its way up his throat.

Isagi stands still for a long second, as if searching for the right words or perhaps thinking about what he's about to do. You wish you could read what's hidden behind those big blue eyes that always look at you so tenderly.

Slowly, his gaze descends to your thighs, and his fingers begin to gently caress them up and down. The skin under his fingers feels incredibly soft, the gentle rubbing of your after-shower lotion sliding under his palms. With his thumbs, he begins to trace small circles that seem to accompany the rhythm of his next words.

“I want to kiss them,” he confesses, a pause in his voice as his eyes lift to meet yours. Then he hesitates a moment longer. “I want to leave marks with my teeth on them. I wanna-” His voice grows more confident, his touch becomes a little firmer, and his hands move to the edge of his shirt, which barely covers your core.

“You can say it,” you encourage him, moistening your lips in anticipation.

“I want to fuck them,” he says, holding your gaze. For a moment, your gazes intertwine in silence, and without a word, you seek his fingers with yours, gently guiding them to slide deeper, higher, closer to the edge of your panties.

“You can do whatever you want with them,” you whisper sweetly, an invitation full of trust.

Then, without further hesitation, he leans into you, kissing you with a passion that hides neither fear nor shame. You let him melt in your mouth, his lips molding yours with a voracious calm, taking the lead in the kiss as he always does, guiding each movement with overwhelming confidence as two of his fingers massage your clit through your soaked panties.

The kiss is sloppy and a little messy, unhurried, but with the precise intensity that anticipates what is to come. His tongue brushes yours in an intimate dance, and the murmur of the fan, along with the everyday noises of his apartment, fade away, drowned out by your moans and his. Gently, he lays you down on the mattress, where the only sound is the rustling of the sheets as they become disheveled.

Isagi pauses for a moment observing the way the edge of your shirt along with your skirt rises above your thighs, exposing the pink lingerie you are wearing. The fabric is barely tangled at your navel, and with a slight smile, he leans down to kiss one of your calves.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his lips still pressed to your skin. You, biting your lip, try to hide a teasing smile. “Are you sure?” he asks you, his eyes searching for some shadow of doubt on your face.

You nod confirming to him that you don't feel like backing out, letting out an eager sigh that fills your lungs. He leans over to the bedside table, looking for something in one of the drawers. Finally, he pulls out a small bottle of oil and drops a generous amount into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before he begins massaging your thighs. His thumbs press and glide close to your core, brushing against the line of your panties without actually touching you creating that aching anticipation.

“Feels good...” you murmur, letting your hips rise instinctively, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

“Yeah? I can tell. You're soaking your panties, baby.”

Before you can say anything, Isagi moves with an agility that takes you by surprise. In a single, fluid motion, his shirt drops to the floor, quickly followed by his shorts. The sight of his worked torso and him covered only by tight boxers takes your breath away, making any coherent thoughts instantly disappear. It's not the first time you've seen him like this, but it's the first time he's done it while on top of you.

With a fresh portion of oil that he drops into his hand, he slides the liquid down his cock, droplets that he will later take care of wiping slip down to the sheets, and then he takes your thighs and squeezes them together, creating a perfect space to slide between them.

A deep, pleasure-laden growl escapes his lips as he leans forward, resting his forehead on your knees, his warm breath coursing across your skin. You feel the firm, steady pressure of his movements, the rush of his thrusts sliding you subtly over the surface of the mattress. Your feet rest flat against his chest, and the position only intensifies every sensation that passes through your body. The sound of the oil mixed with the rhythm of his strokes fills the room with a rhythmic, intoxicating gush.

It is exquisite to see Isagi lost in this ecstasy, his thrusts are slow and deep giving you a glimpse of the pink tip of his cock peeking between your thighs. He is completely absorbed in you. Deep, halting moans escape his lips with increasing frequency, and he keeps his intense, clouded gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes seem to search for every detail that tells him you're enjoying this too as he lifts his face, and the dark locks of his messy hair over his forehead give him an almost primal look. Every sign on him, from the tremor in his shoulders to the firmness with which he holds you, is a clear warning of how close he is to his limit.

Isagi adjusts you carefully, bending your knees so that every push of his cock rubs not only against the pressure of your thighs, but also against the soggy softness of your panties. The reddened, sensitive tip of his dick brushes the bud of your clit with every movement, further igniting the gasps that escape you, where his name slips on every exhale and his chest swells with raw pride.

“You're so pretty. Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your thighs like this, ugh? Attagirl. My good girl.” The words, spoken in a low, almost reverent tone, sweep over you like a caress and light up your face, at the same time your thighs instinctively clench around him, earning a groan of approval from Isagi.

Eager to intensify the bond between the two of you, you lift up your shirt until your breasts, barely covered by a light pink bra that stands out against your skin, are in full view. The semi-transparent fabric reveals your hardened nipples that make Isagi's mouth water, and as you begin to caress them, tugging at them, Isagi's eyes glisten with desire as he curses between clenched teeth.

"You think you can cum like this? With my cock rubbing against your covered pussy, hm?”

“I-,” you gasp, tugging a little harder on your nipples as you imagine it's his fingers doing it. “I can try,” you whisper, feeling the arousal slide between your pussy lips with each rub.

The tension grows in your abdomen with every second, every caress and every word from him, like a spiral that pulls you mercilessly. “I think... I'm gonna cum,” you confess between ragged breaths.

“Do it, please. I can't cum without you cumming first.” Isagi pauses for just a moment, releasing your numb thighs to push your panties aside and reveal the trail of desire he left in you. Without wasting time, his fingers find your clit and caress it with precision, moving from side to side, causing you to arch your back, lifting you into his caresses. ”C'mon, baby. Give it to me, pretty please.”

His words, soft and possessive, are the last spark you need, and in a burst of pleasure you cover your face with your hands, trying to silence the scream escaping your throat as your thighs tremble uncontrollably under the intensity of your orgasm. He responds with tender kisses, covering every corner of your skin within his reach as he stops assaulting your sensitive clit to then massage your skin.

He pulls you to him, kissing you with a mixture of tenderness and passion. As his lips play with yours, your hand finds his cock, still throbbing, ready and warm against your belly. Without hesitation, you begin to jerk him off with steady rhythm, catching his moans and whispers on your tongue, until finally his release comes. With a deep shudder, his orgasm explodes, leaving a string of heavy white ropes painting your tummy.

Between deep breaths, you both share one last complicit giggle before Isagi drops down beside you. Small beads of sweat cover his temples and chest.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek gently. His blue eyes fixed on yours, trapping you in that ocean.

Biting your lip, you nod. “Let's do it again,” you whisper with a playful giggle. “Next time, I want you inside.”

Isagi holds his breath for a moment, taken aback by the audacity of your words. But excitement quickly replaces any hint of nerves, and in one swift movement, he positions himself on top of you again, making you chuckle with his enthusiasm.

“Are you ready again already?” he joins in as an accomplice to your laughter, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“And you're not?” he murmurs, hiding in the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses leading down to your neck.

“First, water and a movie,” you propose, stroking his hair and the action instantly makes him purr. “I wanna cuddle with you.”

“Anything else you're craving?” he asks, pulling away a little with a silly grin, completely uninhibited.

“A massage would be nice, you left me a little sore.”

Isagi nods, with obvious kindness. “I'm gonna order something sweet for the both of us too; I'm very hungry all of a sudden.”

Just as he gets ready to get up in search of his phone, you stop him, intertwining your fingers with his and gently catching his attention. Isagi looks at you intently, expectantly.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the raw sincerity in your words makes the moment go on forever, making it another memory Isagi will cling to when he's away from home.

He smiles at you, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “I love you more,” he replies, gently squeezing your hand.

#wr #wr.isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut

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