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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

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Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince.

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?”

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.”

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come.

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers.

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips.

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk.

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar.

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon.

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.”

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all.

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound.

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands.

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor.

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you.

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one.

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing.

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp.

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal.

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you.

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.”

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed.

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone.

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it.

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface.

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye.

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that.

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true.

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them.

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt.

“If… if I had n-not been at the…”

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation.

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight.

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt.

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest.

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his.

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident.

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know.

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle.

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart.

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out.

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother.

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter.

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself.

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out.

If only he could see himself as you do.

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love.

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none.

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods.

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung.

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline.

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse.

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out.

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare…

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat.

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin.

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his.

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind.

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this.

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest.

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders.

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him.

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck.

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse.

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric.

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching.

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling.

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this.

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts.

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively.

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent.

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint.

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs.

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries.

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you.

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust.

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire.

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on.

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second.

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you.

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest.

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it.

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you.

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again.

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you.

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision.

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach.

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return.

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you.

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily.

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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mageofmadness · 4 months ago

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CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong.

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

#my wrxting 💿 ོ⁩`.#love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb x mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads smut #caleb smut #lads #lads x mc

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happy74827 · 1 year ago

Text

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

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sergeantbuckybarnes · 3 months ago

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i know love // joaquin torres

Summary: Having been raised in the Red Room, people would expect you to be ruthless and cold. Your vulnerability surfaces when a conversation topic is brought up during dinner, and you need to have a difficult conversation with Joaquín.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Ex-Widow!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing and killing, mentions of reader having an involuntary hysterectomy in the red room, mentions of dreykov, reader doesn't know how to deal with her emotions, mentions of adoption, angst, hurt/comfort, but a happy ending!!

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @heybaynoot for proofreading this!

This is my first time writing for Joaquín, I probably got him OOC a bit, but hope you guys like this one! Oh, and I have more in store for Joaquín & BlackWidow!Reader so stay tuned!

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

It was an offhand comment.

This wasn’t something you should be overthinking.

Any other woman in your situation would have been thrilled. And that was the problem—you weren't like other women. And no, this wasn't meant to be a compliment.

Your childhood and adolescence hadn’t been the most conventional. You knew it hadn’t been your fault; you never had a say in anything, yet it didn’t undo the knot in your stomach nor make the nightmares go away.

It had only been a few years since you'd begun to get your life back on track. Or, well, to build your own. One that actually felt like yours, where you were more than just the prisoner of a rich sadist.

When Yelena found you and freed your mind from their control, you were lost. Waking up was difficult. Facing the reality around you was puzzling, and you struggled with understanding your true identity.

But that was ages ago.

You have got your life on track since then.

And everything was going well. You could say you were happy for the first time in a long time. A fundamental pillar of that happiness was thanks to Joaquin.

When Sam introduced you, you never thought he would become such an important part of your life. Falling in love with him wasn't in your plans, but it had happened. And it was quite simple. That was one of the long list of special things about Joaquín—loving him was so easy.

From the first moment, you noticed the brightness he radiated. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smart. He had a charming personality, and it was literally impossible not to smile when he was around—and you weren't someone who was used to smiling, not before him at least.

He knew who you were and what you had done, and it had never been an issue for him. To be honest, his reaction when he met you was something you hadn't expected. He was thrilled and excited to officially meet an ex-widow. And, despite his obvious curiosity, he never asked anything about the Red Room. You assumed it was out of respect; perhaps he did not want you to remember Dreykov, the training, and the brainwashing.

And the killing.

And you had to admit you were delighted that the subject was never brought up.

He still complimented your fighting skills. Like, all the time. Looking like a proud boyfriend every time you kicked someone's ass.

There was a moment, early in your relationship, when you realized it was him. You had never known love before—not that kind. And Joaquin's was the best first experience you could have asked for. You had been certain that he was going to be your first and last. You didn't want anyone else. Because no one would ever make you feel the way he did.

But now everything has crumbled.

Because of a single comment.

“We're going to have the cutest babies.”

The words had rolled off his tongue so easily.

And they had stabbed your heart in the same way.

Sarah had smiled at his words, Sam had rolled his eyes and made a witty remark, while you pressed your lips into a thin smile, and the conversation at the table just continued on.

But you couldn't shake off the feeling.

In all the time you had been dating Joaquín, the topic of having children had never been brought up. You thought it was because he knew. And he was being the considerate, thoughtful gentleman he was.

But now you were thinking that maybe Joaquín didn't know everything you went through in the Red Room.

You had the image of his happy face burned into your brain when he made the baby comment, and it only intensified the knotting in your stomach.

This happened two weeks ago, and since then, your mind has not stopped spinning in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. You didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well, technically, you did; you knew you had to talk to Joaquín. If the future he had planned for himself was to have a family, it was clear he was not going to have that with you.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a grunt of resignation. You'd tried your best to leave the past behind you, just for it to come back, knocking on your door and hitting you with a harsh reminder that happiness was a luxury you couldn’t yet afford.

Something was going on.

And Joaquin had noticed this.

You'd been acting odd, distant even, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something that irked you?

Despite living together, over the past two weeks, you’ve been coming up with excuses to avoid spending time together, skipping your regular morning coffee dates, and missing movie nights. Even during your training sessions, your conversations felt minimal and strained.

But what hurt him the most was that whenever he attempted to reach out for you, you recoiled from his touch—something you never did before.

You had always loved his clinginess. He felt the need to have a hand on you constantly. While other people had considered it annoying in the past, it never seemed to bother you. On the contrary, it seemed like you yearned for his touch just almost as he longed for yours.

When he mentioned the situation to Sam, the reaction he got was that he was reading too much into it and that maybe you just needed to have some space.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

No. He hadn’t. Because he was afraid he would get the answer his brain was already conjuring up.

And he wasn’t ready for it.

Not that it mattered, because you started the conversation yourself that afternoon.

A sense of relief washed over him as he noticed you standing in the living room of your shared apartment.

Everything may be okay after all.

Perhaps Sam was right, and you just needed space.

However, the happiness was wiped from his face when he noticed the expression on your face, followed by the dreadful words, “We need to talk.”

Joaquín felt the air escape from his lungs. A lump formed in his throat as your words echoed in his head.

‘We need to talk’.

Those words almost always came before terrible news.

He searched your face for clues, any hint that this time might be different, but the seriousness in your eyes revealed everything he feared.

“Can we sit down, please?”

Joaquín nodded, swallowing hard as he followed you to the couch. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, a subtle sign of your own unease. The cushions felt too soft, and indulgent as if mocking the tension between the two of you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks…” You began, your voice quivering slightly, and he felt a surge of fear grip his heart. “I know you had noticed that I had pushed you away, and I—”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. A flicker of emotion crossed your eyes—a mix of determination and sadness—that sent a twist through his stomach.

You'd rehearsed this conversation in your head, every word, but now that you had your boyfriend in front of you, your mind had gone completely blank. Your eyes drank in how worried he was; you hated yourself for doing this to him.

You took a deep breath, the kind that tried to draw in all the courage you could muster. “Remember two weeks ago when we had dinner with Sam and Sarah?”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Of all the things his mind had conjured up, you mentioning the dinner at Sarah's was not among them. However, he nodded and gestured for you to go on.

“Sarah said something about AJ and Cass and then you mentioned that we were gonna have the cutest babies, and I—”

God, this hurt so much.

Each word you spoke felt like a dagger piercing his chest, and made his heart sink further. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even bigger. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want to build a family with me?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks—of course, Joaquín would assume he was the problem. You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” You exhaled, forcing the words out, your heart racing. “It's just…”

Joaquin leaned forward, squinting in a fervent plea for clarity. The concern on his face was palpable.

“I thought you knew about this, and that’s why you never brought the subject up…” You took a deep breath and finally uttered the words weighing heavily inside you. “I can’t have kids, Joaquin.”

“In the Red Room, they had this graduation ceremony…They sterilized us. One less thing to worry about, I guess.” You grimaced, your hands fidgeting instinctively—a nervous habit you couldn't recall developing. “For Dreykov, that was what mattered even more than a mission. It made everything easier. Even the killing.”

He struggled with the truth of what you said, and the world around him dimmed for a minute.

“I've fought to put that part of my life behind me, and I don't want to be the burden that holds you back from having the life you want.”

“You're not a burden to me.” He moved closer and took one of your hands in his own, his thumb softly stroking patterns on the back of your hand. “What I want is you—just as you are. A future without you holds no interest for me.”

Emotions you had suppressed for so long started to overwhelm you, and tears filled your eyes. “I don't want to put you in that position. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy with you,” he replied, with a resolute tone.

“What if one day you change your mind?”

Joaquín leaned in, his eyes blazing with a sharp intensity that sliced through the fog of doubt that shrouded you. “I swear to you, my mind is made up. And it starts and ends with you.”

He cupped your face gently, wiping away a tear. You closed your eyes in contentment, leaning into his touch.

You had missed it so much.

You had missed him.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For the first time in two weeks, Joaquín found himself smiling—truly smiling.

He pulled you closer, draping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling in his familiar scent, while he tightened his embrace around you, afraid that you would slip away.

He had missed you.

“Please, don’t push me away again,” he pleaded softly, his voice muffled as his face rested against your head. “Those were the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly. “I don’t know how to deal with my emotions well, but I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are. And I’m here for you if you need me. We’ll work through it together. We’re a team, remember?”

As you listened to him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The fear that had gripped you for weeks started to fade.

“And we can always consider adoption,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “There are so many kids out there in need of a caring home. We can give them a shot at a better life.”

“I like that idea,” you said quietly, a timid smile emerging through the lingering traces of your tears.

“Good.” His hand found yours again, his fingers easily interlacing with yours. A wave of tranquility enveloped you, and for the first time in weeks, it felt as though you could breathe. You rested your head against his shoulder, settling into him and finding comfort in the calming thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you for being so understanding. I don't deserve you.”

“Don't say that,” he said, lifting your chin, making you meet his eyes. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. And I'm not going anywhere.”

With that, he leaned into you, his lips softly brushing against yours, and in that instant, everything felt right again. The outside world faded, enveloping you in your warm little cocoon of comfort and understanding.

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres one shot #joaquin torres fic #marvel #danny ramirez

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shohrrts · 4 months ago

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pairing: megumi x reader

cw: none, fluff

🌟: one bed trope :p megumi and reader have feelings for each other and confess all sweet vibes!!

me when i finally get a fic draft posted anyways i hope u enjoy!!

the mission had gone longer than expected. you and megumi had been sent out on a last-minute assignment, which turned out to be much more exhausting than anticipated (gojo told you it was a easy mission). by the time you both found your way back to the small hotel room you’d booked, it was well past midnight.

you threw your bag onto the floor, rubbing your eyes. "i’m so tired," you muttered, and megumi nodded in agreement, slumping against the door frame.

"yeah. i didn’t think we’d be out this late," he said, his voice hoarse from the long fight.

the hotel room wasn’t fancy by any means, just a small, cheap place with a single bed. you noticed the moment you entered the room.

"only one bed," you muttered dryly, crossing your arms. you tried to keep your face neutral, but a slight warmth crept up your neck. you had shared close quarters with megumi before—hell, you'd worked together countless times, but something about this felt different.

megumi glanced at you, then at the bed, and then back at you. his usual unreadable expression softened for a second, a flicker of something in his eyes that made your heart skip.

"you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the floor," he offered with a shrug, but his tone suggested more concern than you were used to.

you quickly shook your head. "no, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor." you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you, it made your heart race a little faster and your cheeks heat up a little more. it wasn’t like you’d never been close, but the tension tonight felt… different.

he raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, almost smirk. "well, unless you want to...?" he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

you could feel your pulse quicken, and you fought to keep your composure. "i’ll just… take the side of the bed," you muttered.

as you both changed into more comfortable clothes, the silence was thick with an underlying tension. The kind of tension that had been building between the two of you for a while now, but obviously neither of you had addressed it.

when you finally got into bed, your back facing megumis, you felt the heat radiating off him, despite the space between you. he sighed softly, and it made your breath hitch.

"i—uhm, thanks for… offering the bed," you said, your voice a little quieter than usual. there was something in the air, a subtle shift that made everything feel more intimate.

he didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you thought maybe you’d misread the situation. but then, his voice was low and steady. "i don’t mind," he said softly, but there was something unspoken in those words. "really."

it was a simple thing, yet it meant everything in the moment.

the silence stretched on, but it didn’t feel awkward. it was comfortable, like a quiet understanding that neither of you wanted to break. slowly, the quiet rhythm of your breathing seemed to sync up with megumi’s. you were both exhausted, but the exhaustion didn't seem to dull the electricity that crackled just beneath the surface.

when megumi spoke again, his voice was softer than usual. "i—"

before he could finish, you turned to face him. you didn’t know what you were doing, but you couldn’t stop now. the warmth of his body and the way his gaze softened as he looked at you made it feel like everything was finally falling into place.

"i know," you said, voice barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear.

there was a short pause, and then Megumi moved slightly closer, his face inches from yours. "you know?" he asked, voice low, and filled with uncertainty.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "i think i’ve known for a while."

he didn’t pull away, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. there was a gentle tension between you, something that had been building for a long time. The world outside that little room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

just before you could say anything more, megumi closed the gap between you. his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss, eliciting a small gasp from you. it was gentle, cautious, as though he was asking for permission in the most quiet way. you responded without hesitation, your hand finding its way to his chest, the beat of his heart steady against your palm.

when you pulled away, you both stayed close, sharing the same air. his forehead rested gently against yours.

"guess we don’t need two beds," megumi said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you chuckled softly, your heart lighter than it had been before. "yeah, i guess not."

for the first time that night, you both finally relaxed, letting the warmth of each other’s presence lull you into a peaceful sleep.

➽──────────────❥

ahhh!! so cutee o̴̶̷᷄ ⤙ o̴̶̷̥᷅ i hope you liked this, pls pls pls send me requests my brain is like almost incapable of thinking of prompts!! Im hoping to get a fic out maybe every 1-2 weeks but im in college and our folders are almost due in (cram time💔) so it will most likely change BUT pls do keep sending me request i love to see them in my inbox!

#jjk megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #x reader

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scriptseekstories · 4 months ago

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Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 1- Drone

A/N: I see a handful of people like this, so I’m going to take it and run lol

P.S- the artist of the cool redesigns are s3tok41b4, give credit where credit is due.

The Honeybee is one of the most hardworking insects in the world. Always pushing themselves to please their Queen, producing honey with the pollen they scavenge for, always having a high risk of dying the moment they are conscious of what their purpose is.

Your mother taught you that bees have a hierarchy: The Queen, the Worker Bees, and the Drones. The Queen was meant to control the strength of the colony, maintain the hive’s behavior. The Workers were meant to go out and provide for the colony, defending the hive from danger. And the Drone, was only meant for one simple thing; reproduction.

And right now, you didn’t felt like anything.

Your mind was fuzzy, vision blurry as you tried to collect what Mr. Gordon told you. Your mother was dead. She was dead and you couldn’t even got a chance to say goodbye to her, how could you accept grief when the last words from her was: “I’m going out for a bit, my little bumble bee. I’ll be back for dinner,”

Not even an “I love you”.

“Hello young master,” The fuzziness and numbing sensation wore off just a bit to hear a gentle accent, one that was filled with comfort and pity. Lifting your head up you saw an old man, in a clean sharp suit with eyes that told so much stories yet nothing.

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I am here on the behalf of your biological father, Bruce Wayne,” That name. You heard it all about that man. Wayne Enterprise was the first companies that funded your mother’s Project: Honey, they were the one that helped her group reach to the sun.

Yet the project burned like Icarus, never fully knowing the feeling of the warm feeling of success. She never mentioned him again, never once talked about Wayne Enterprise after that.

Alfred noticed the look of confusion, so he crouched down in front of you as you clutched the edge of the GPD waiting chair.

“I assure you, Master Bruce will be the best father you will ever know,” He reassured, lending out a hand for you. You stared at him for a moment, eyes filled with emotions you couldn’t control or understand just yet, but one was overpowering than the others. Hope.

“Really?” You mustered out, voice small and confused. Alfred nodded before noting how your eyes were tearing up. You realized you weren’t going back home, you weren’t going back to have your mother making your favorite meal, you weren’t going back to your toy filled room that you played for hours, you weren’t going back ever again.

“I want my mommy…” You whispered out, voice cracking at the end as globs of tears flowed down your cheeks as your mind fully understood what everything meant. You lost your mother, but maybe you will gain a father.

“My sweet dear,” Alfred hushed you gently as you clutched his hand and burrowed your face into his chest, his smooth suit now crinkled and stained with tears. Gordon closed his eyes and looked away, knowing the feeling of losing who you couldn’t save.

Alfred led you to the limo, where you hesitated as you never actually saw a limo in real life before. He explained that you will be able to collect your personal items when you officially meet Bruce.

You stared out the tinted windows, watching the buildings pass by, citizens of Gotham living their lives, yet they all were connected in one way. Gotham was their hive, and they all work to survive in a hive invaded by wasps and other insects that dare to harm each bee.

And a wasp got your mother.

You were in awe at seeing the massive Wayne Manor. Are you really going to live there? You pray that Bruce Wayne will be as nice and kind as he is on the news, someone who will give you warmth and a place to call home.

Alfred held your hand as he let you along the long driveway, and inside felt like it was bigger than the outside. You felt out of place, like an outsider bee searching for refuge in another hive.

“Come along now, Master Bruce is in his office,” You’ll have time to demote everything later, you thought. It was time to meet Bruce Wayne. You fixed your hair and clothes as you walked, as if you were ready for a bunnies deal with him. You hoped you were good enough just as you stopped at a giant two way door that led to his office.

“Master Bruce, your young child is here to greet you,” Alfred announced while pushing the door. Your eyes widened at the well dressed man sitting at his desk. His eyes piercing and strong, as if he saw the dangers of the world and still held hope.

‘He could be the Queen bee mom was talking about,’ You thought with a small smile. You took a step back, hand slipping out of Alfred’s. Here you go, the moment of bonding with your father, your smile widened ever so slightly when he looked up from his work to make eye contact.

“I’m (Name)-,” Just as you held your hand out, Bruce grabbed his papers and walked past you and Alfred, only giving a small smile and nod to Alfred. Not looking at you.

“Oh…” You dropped your hand, standing there in the office awkward of the lack of welcome, greetings, or even warmth in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t even know you were there. Alfred called out for him, slightly appalled at his zero acknowledgement towards me.

‘A Queen Bee would never ignore her worker bees’

“I’m sorry, Master (Name),” Alfred was going to give Bruce a great scolding of his life for ignoring you, but when he stood up, your small hands grasped his long fingers, where you gave a bright smile, so sweet yet so sad.

“It’s… okay Alfred,” You smiled, “Things are going to be okay,” Alfred knew that the look in your eyes told him everything. You were shattered when your father hadn’t said anything to you, yet you were still hopeful that you will belong in this hive.

You will be his Worker Bee.

You had help from Alfred to collect things from your old home… is the manor really your new home? You stuffed as much photos of you and your mother into your bag, along with your favorite plush your mother got you, a fluffy Minecraft bee plush she got for your birthday.

You walked around the empty house, a feeling of grief yet nostalgia filled your stomach. You stopped at your mother’s door, slinking to see everything the same as if she wasn’t gone. When you turn to leave, you stumbled back into her working desk, papers scattered.

Your mother’s papers to Project: Honey. You couldn’t just let her hard work die. You may have not understood what the appears meant, but you know how much her researched meant. You stuffed them into your binders before letting Alfred know that you were ready.

That was the day you met Bruce’s eldest son, your new big brother.

Dick Grayson, the son of Bruce Wayne. Not biological, yet he was cherished. You were happy, excited even, to have a big brother that you can count on, someone who will comfort you and playfully bother you, someone who you can tell many secrets too.

And it started out great! At first… He smiled brightly and patted your shoulder, looking sad and walked off. yet it didn’t felt all too genuine. That still didn’t stop you, your little kid brain thought maybe it was because he was busy at first! And he was, with Bruce.

Everytime you showed up from school with drawings and assignments that is covered with bees, you would always show Bruce first, but when he simply hummed and went back to his work. You went to Dick, who gave a very exaggerated “Wowww!! Amazing!” Before walking off. Disheartened, you went up to Alfred and showed your drawings, to which he framed it and placed it on your wall.

It made you smile just a bit.

When you ran up to Dick with great news that you wanted to see a movie, and begged for him to go while holding his hand, he looked a bit uncomfortable and gently peeled your arm away, saying that he had urgent business with Bruce.

“Sorry kid, maybe next time, okay?” There was never a next time, it you didn’t have the heart to ask again.

You moved your stuff into a spared room, however Alfred insisted to have yours connected to the family hall, as the one you chose was much too small. The room was the nursery Martha and Thomas Wayne has set up when they brought Bruce into the world, yet it was only temporary as they moved him into his own personal room to grow.

“I like it,” You beamed at Alfred, clinging onto your bee plush as his grip to the doorframe tightened. It seemed that your sweet smile of yourself was something he hasn’t seen in a while, not even from Dick. Seeing you in that nursery room felt like as if Bruce was a baby once more, happily jumping around while wanting to play.

The same sweet smile you both held. You had a cool window that views into the garden, insects flying around with their lives.

A bee. A single honeybee buzzed on your windowsill, perched down as if inspecting the area. You admired it as it began to dance around as if trying to communicate with you, making you giggle and show off your bee plushie. It didn’t appreciate a giant object in its face however, and flew away to the top corner, making you smile with the knowledge of one thing giving you attention.

Barbara Gordon visited often, and you were in awe at how amazing and smart she was, as expected being the daughter of the man who held you and carried you in his arms when you were told that your mother died.

You wanted to thank her dad, to talk to her and maybe make a spark between you both. However, it didn’t matter as she gave you a look of confusion, as if silently asking what was your purpose in the manor.

She merely ushered you out of her way before running to Dick and Bruce, the three of them gone. That’s okay! You still had Alfred, and you spent your free time talking about bees and cooking together. Alfred loved seeing you beam.

Jason Todd arrived not long after, and you were mesmerized at how tough yet sweet he was. He might have been older than you, but you didn’t care, he actually gave a damn about you. You were able to share your rants about bees and other things, and he shared books and stories.

The only downside was the fact he was always so busy with Bruce. You wanted to follow, you wanted to stay close to your brother, yet Bruce didn’t even spared you a glance as Jason gave you an apologetic look before leaving with him.

You didn’t know where they went, but you didn’t care as you just wanted to have every moment with Jason. Why is Bruce taking things away from you when you began to be happy?

“I’ll be back before you know it, bumble,” Jason grinned. That never happened, as he passed away from a Joker attack that day. The manor was filled with thick grief, Alfred cradled you as you sobbed into his chest once more, a familiar feeling of loss building up inside your heart.

You confronted Bruce, begging him to let you see Jason for the funeral, but out of guilt and grief, he aggressively shoved you away with the look of sadness with a hint of disgust.

“Go away,” He didn’t even utter your name, yet that wasn’t the thing that hurt the most, it was the fact you were never told that the funeral happened. Not even Alfred could give you a reasonable excuse, and only apologized over and over as you numbly walked back to your room.

You held onto the bee plush tightly as you cried for hours, only stopping when you felt like passing out. Days in school never felt as joyful and pleasant, teachers were concerned of the lack of energy, yet never was concerned enough to contact Bruce or Alfred.

But you knew Bruce didn’t even want to come when called from the school, as you heard from your small room that he didn’t want to be part of the parental contacts for the school. Another sign that he doesn’t care.

Tim Drake was the next to be adopted, or rather, the one who forced Bruce to adopt him. He was a smart kid, very tech savvy that followed Bruce for a while to the point of actually managing to hack into a computer system that was locked down with security.

Fourth times a charm, right? You quietly slunk over to the boy, curious as to what he was furiously typing away. The moment you opened your mouth, he immediately stopped and turned to look at you with bemusement, and even disgust.

“Do you mind? I’m too busy to deal with this,” And he went back to his typing. You simply closed your mouth, feeling embarrassed as you scurried away. Tim was a year older than you, and you gave up on trying to befriend someone older, knowing it won’t be the same with Tim as it was with Jason.

Jason… he was back! You thought you were dreaming and believed to be fake, yet there he stood. Tears welled up as you ran to hug him, crying that you missed him and was so happy to see your brother again.

But the happiness was gone when you felt pain your eye. You tumbled back and looked up at him with shock and fear as his eyes glowed green. They weren’t green, they never were, and they were filled with rage and hate. He was different appearance wise, and you guessed personality wise too.

You touched your eye when it became clear that he punched you. He punched you as if you were a stranger who attacked him. Your body shook when he scoffed and stalked passed you, only giving you one last glance.

“Just stay the hell away from me, and we won’t have issues,” No mention of your name, or playful insult, no Bumble. You knew it wasn’t the Jason that smiled when you reenacted your favorite scene in a story, the Jason that tried his best to have Bruce talk to you, the Jason who you grew to love as a brother.

He became the outcasted bee that still clung to the hope he’ll be accepted again. And he was.

Bruce still clung onto Jason, he still loved his son that he would do anything for him to forgive him. You watched from a corner as Bruce actually cried for a child, his child.

You were even his kid? You stayed in your room for most days if you weren’t in school, laying by the window as you watched the beehive that was made next to your window, admiring how these honeybees would land on your finger and buzz.

These little insects gave you more attention than others, and you were fine with it.

Barbara was back. She had to go into a hospital after another Joker attack. She remained in a wheelchair, yet was still as smart and tough as before. Even though she didn’t care for you, you thought this was a perfect time to talk to her. A foolish move, as you mistakenly touched the bars to her wheelchair, and she pushed you away with a glare.

“As if I need any help from you!!” You knew you made a mistake, you knew if you were her you also wouldn’t want someone make you feel incapable of moving, yet you felt sadness when she yelled. You could only muster a “I’m sorry”, before running off to your room.

Stephanie Brown arrived not long after. She was bubbly, always grinning, and was mischievous as a fox. You bumped into her while she was laughing with Tim, who didn’t give you a glance. You said hi and wanted to say hi, but she only waved you off while smiling.

“Yeahhhh, sorry. Just too busy with something else, bye!” That smile felt forced and condescending, that she knew I wasn’t worth her time. You knew that tone very well from Tim, so you didn’t even bother being sad about it.

Cassandra Cain wasn’t even worth tears as she didn’t even spared a glance after staring intently at you when she arrived and walking away. It felt like she was judging you before even knowing you, and she deemed you as someone not worthy of even acknowledging.

You only saw her when the others hung out together. You didn’t care that you weren’t included (of course you cared), but it was the fact they all looked so happy talking to one another, having the best time of their lives without you.

Damien Wayne, the younger biological son of Bruce, arriving with the same scowl and attitude at his father. A little brother, you thought. Maybe this time…?

No, of course not. Every member of this family doesn’t ever give you a chance and immediately deem you as an inconvenience. Damien gave you a clear sign he didn’t like you when he gave you a defensive and deadly glare before drawing one of his katanas and you barely managed to avoid it hitting your face, merely slicing a mean and clean cut on your forehead.

“You’re not worthy to refer to me as your brother. You are simply a result of a one night stand with a low class civilian! You’re not equal to us to be deemed as a Wayne,” He sneered, attempting to strike again before Dick held him back, scolding him for having his katanas out.

Not scolding of attacking you, no worrying about your gash on your forehead, nothing. You began to tear up as you stumbling to stand as Dick gave you a sympathetic shrug before dragging Damien away.

“You have to understand he has a rough time growing up,” You should’ve known Dick didn’t come to stop Damien because he saw you, it was because Damien was “acting out”, and it was his duty as big brother to calm him down.

Duke Thomas arrived as a newly adopted son of Bruce, and for once, he gave you time to say hi. You were in the library reading about Entomology, where he was lost in the giant halls of Wayne Manor and stumbled into the library.

“Hey! If you don’t mind, do you know where the kitchen is?” He sheepishly asked you, and you were caught off guard at his interaction with you. He acknowledged you? Your smile couldn’t have been any bigger as you excitedly walked to him and introduced each other.

You showed him the ropes of how to guide himself through the manor, even daring to show him the secret passages that only you and Alfred know. He was amazed that no one mentioned you, to which you gave no heed to that comment.

It wasn’t long when you showed him the kitchen where Stephanie and Dick grabbed Duke and took him a way to have a hangout with the others, leaving you standing there with your smile gone and Duke confused as to why you were following.

You should’ve known the others would take him away from you, and alone you were again. No Duke, no Jason, no Alfred, no one.

Bruce spent all his attention to other kids, ones who begged for his love, others who weren’t even grateful. Alfred tried his best to include you, yet it was in vain as he had his hands tied when it comes to you, always rushing to other’s aid when they need him.

You were alone in a hive with a father who doesn’t care or love you.

He wasn’t a Queen… he was nothing yet meant everything to this hive.

Your so called siblings were his worker bees, protecting each other and Bruce. Alfred was more than a worker bee, he was the one raising and tending to the family hive. And you…?

You weren’t even worthy of being a drone.

You never belonged to this hive.

You were an intruder.

Buzzzz

Well… you’re not completely alone.

A/N: I’ll give Bee!Reader more personality soon, just wanted the relationships with the Batsiblings out of the way.

Also this kinda gives off Mirabel vibes from Encanto, living in a nursery room, you just really like the alone space for you and you alone.

Tag list: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star (girlie is ain’t letting me find ya 😭) @moom0goddess

#yandere batfamily #yandere dc #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown #yandere duke thomas #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere batfam #Queen Bee’s Hive

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thedivinetarot · 7 months ago

Text

Closer to you than your breathe

Channeled message from them

☆ How to chose your pile?

Take a deep breath, clear your mind. Focus your intentions on receiving the message from this reading. And close your eyes, ask the question in your head " what is the message I'm meant to receive from them?" And open your eyes. The pic youa re drown to the most isnyour pile.

☆ Who is this reading from?

You can apply this reading on any person but I did it for your future spouse or future partner. Also, there will be non-explicit part and explicit part so if you are under 18 do not continue to the explicit part.

☆ Note:

I started doing paid readings so if you are interested here's my Masterlist which is currently open. Feel free to DM if you want a paid reading.

Lots of love

Arya❤

Pile 1 - Letter one

My Dearest Love

I’ve waited so long to find you, and now that you’re here, my world feels balanced and whole. You are the Queen of my heart—grounded, nurturing, and endlessly generous. With you, love is not a fleeting feeling but a steady exchange of care and understanding. I cherish the way you give so freely, yet remain true to yourself. I know we’ve both had moments of doubt, times when the weight of the world felt too heavy, or when we questioned if we’d ever find this connection. But I want you to know that you are my clarity, my choice—just as I hope I am yours. There’s no confusion in my heart when it comes to you. I’ve left behind illusions and embraced the simple truth: we are meant to be. Our love feels like destiny—two cups pouring into each other, endlessly full. With you, I see a home, a foundation built on joy and celebration, not just with each other but with the life we’ll create together. I dream of the family gatherings, the warmth of shared memories, and the way your presence feels like home no matter where we are. But love isn’t always light and easy, and I know there will be burdens to share and moments when we’ll need to lean on each other. I promise to carry those loads with you, to walk beside you, step by steady step, as we build a life we can be proud of. I’ll be your Knight, slow but steady, working tirelessly to give us the stability we both deserve. Sometimes, I feel the echoes of the past—familiar memories that remind me of what love can be. You feel like a wish come true, like someone I’ve known before, a soul I’ve loved in another time. I see so much potential in us, as if fate herself worked her magic to bring us together. You inspire me to believe in the impossible, to dream of all we can achieve together. With you, I am not just the person I am, but the person I aspire to become. You are my muse, my strength, my love. I can’t wait to grow with you, to nurture our love like the strong and enduring tree it’s meant to be. You are my moon, my light in the darkness, my guiding star. Together, we’ll create a love that’s as deep as the roots of the earth and as limitless as the sky.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Beloved

From the moment we met, there was no question in my mind that you were the one. I feel the pull of your energy, your warmth, and the way you touch me—not just physically, but deep within my soul. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and more than I ever expected. With you, love is not just an exchange of words or glances; it’s a delicate dance, an endless giving and receiving. You, my Queen, have a way of grounding me, of making me feel like I am both powerful and tender, all at once. In your arms, I find comfort and the freedom to be myself—completely and unapologetically. I crave the way your body fits against mine, how it feels to be lost in the rhythm of us, in that space where we both melt into one. There were times I wondered if I would ever find this kind of love, the kind that fills every part of me and leaves me wanting more. But the moment I laid eyes on you, every doubt faded away. You are no longer just a possibility, you are my reality. My heart has chosen you, and now, I only have eyes for you. The moments we share together are more than just memories; they are the foundation of a passion that burns bright, that fuels our connection. When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted. I want to explore every inch of you, learn the taste of your skin, the sound of your breath when you’re lost in pleasure, the way you moan my name in the quiet moments between us. We have something rare and deep, something that feels like it’s been written in the stars. When you touch me, when our lips meet, it’s as if time itself stands still. I feel you in every part of me—inside, outside, heart, and soul. I know the road ahead won’t always be smooth, but I am ready to carry you through it, to take on every burden, every challenge with you by my side. I’ll never let go of this love, of this connection we have. I’ll cherish you, adore you, and make you feel like the most desired person in the world. You are my magic, my everything. I want to give you a life of passion, of intimacy, of everything you’ve ever craved. And with you, I’ll always find my way back home, to your arms, where I am truly alive.

Forever yours,

Your Future Lover

Pile 2 - Letter 2

( With the cards I picked, it seems like this pile’s spouse has experienced some tough moments and inner struggles. There's a sense of uncertainty, heartbreak, and perhaps confusion, but also a desire for healing and balance. Their future spouse may want to reassure them of a love that helps them find peace, security, and emotional fulfillment despite these challenges).

My Dearest

I know you’ve been through much, and my heart aches when I think of the burdens you’ve carried alone. The weight of your past and the struggles you’ve faced are not unnoticed, and I see the wounds that have shaped you. You have endured, and that strength, though hidden beneath your pain, shines through in ways that I admire deeply. There’s a deep sadness in me, knowing that there have been times when you felt abandoned or lost. But I want you to know—none of that will remain when we are together. I will be the one who holds you, who sees through the fog and the fear that clouds your heart. In me, you will find a refuge, a sanctuary where you can lay down your burdens and let go of the sorrow that lingers. The path we walk may not always be easy, but I will guide you, patiently, through the darkest of times. I’ll be the steady presence, the one who lifts you when the weight of the world feels unbearable. Together, we will heal from what has hurt us. Together, we will find balance in a world that often feels chaotic. You may have moments of doubt, of confusion, or of wondering if things will ever truly change, but I promise you this: I am here. I see you for who you truly are, not the past, not the fears, but the person capable of immense love and joy. Your wounds do not define you; they are simply part of the journey that will bring us closer, that will help us understand each other on a deeper level. Though I know there may be times when you feel disconnected from the world around you, when loneliness creeps in, remember that I am always with you, even in the silence. We will create a space where trust is restored and where the pain of the past becomes a distant memory, fading with every passing day we share. I’ll be there to calm your restless heart and bring you peace. You are my treasure, the person who completes my life in ways I never knew possible. I will work every day to show you how much I cherish you, how much I desire to build something beautiful with you, despite all that has come before. No matter how long it takes, we will create a life of love, healing, and serenity. I see you. I understand you. And most of all, I am here for you—every part of you, no matter how scarred, no matter how uncertain. Together, we will shine again.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Dearest

I know you’ve carried so much pain, and my heart aches at the thought of the loneliness you’ve felt. I feel it, the weight of your struggles, the scars that mark you, but let me tell you this: I will be the one to remove those burdens, to kiss away every trace of sorrow from your skin. In my arms, you will find a release like no other—where you can surrender, where the heaviness of the world can fade into nothing. You’ve felt abandoned, lost at times, unsure of whether someone could truly see the real you. But I see you. Every inch of you. I see the raw beauty in your vulnerability, the fire beneath your uncertainty. When you let me in, I’ll show you what it means to be wanted, to be needed, in ways that go beyond the physical. I’ll make you feel desired—not just for your body, but for the depth of your soul. I crave you—your softness, your strength, the way you carry both pain and passion. When we come together, it’s not just about the pleasure. It’s about releasing everything, every thought, every fear. In our connection, I’ll show you what it feels like to be lost in the heat of the moment, where the world outside ceases to exist, and all that matters is the way we fit together. There may be moments when you feel distant, when your heart is clouded with doubt or sadness, but I will always pull you back to me. I’ll take your hand, guide you through those dark moments, and show you how to let go completely. In those moments, I’ll taste your lips, feel the heat of your body against mine, and remind you just how much you are wanted, how much you are adored. Every part of you calls to me, from the way you look at me with those eyes filled with longing, to the way your skin reacts to my touch. You will learn what it means to be worshiped, to be loved in a way that burns, that leaves you breathless, that makes you forget everything except the heat between us. The journey we’ll take together won’t always be easy, but when I’m with you, I’ll make every touch, every kiss, every whisper, something you will never forget. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of—more than I ever imagined—and I want to take you, every inch of you, body and soul. We will create a world where our connection is all-consuming, where every moment together feels like the first time. I will be here, ready to explore every part of you—your desires, your fantasies, your deepest cravings. Together, we will create a love that goes beyond words, a passion that will never fade.

Forever yours

Your Lover

Pile 3 - Letter 3

This pile seems to have a mix of longing, introspection, and fiery new beginnings. Your future spouse or person likely sees you as someone who has faced emotional challenges but still carries hope and passion for love. The Lenormand cards (ring, birds, and dog) suggest commitment, deep conversations, and loyalty.

My Beloved

I see you—your strength, your resilience, and the fire that burns within you despite the times you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve faced moments where the world seemed to take more than it gave, leaving you wondering if true, lasting love is even possible. But I want you to know, I am here, and with me, you’ll never feel that imbalance again. I will cherish you as you deserve, giving you my all with every moment we share. Your heart, so beautiful and tender, has been bruised before, but it hasn’t broken. That courage, that determination to keep hoping, to keep believing, is what draws me to you. I admire the strength you carry even when you feel uncertain or vulnerable. You don’t need to carry the weight alone anymore—I will be the one who stands beside you, steady and unwavering. When we meet, you’ll feel it—a spark, a passion, an undeniable pull that we can’t resist. You awaken something in me that no one else can. Every touch, every shared glance, will feel like it was meant to be, like we were created to fit perfectly together. I’ll make sure that every moment with me reminds you of how deeply loved and desired you are. Our connection will be unlike anything you’ve known—loyal, passionate, and endlessly fulfilling. We’ll share conversations that stretch into the night, where words flow as naturally as our hearts beat for one another. I’ll be your closest companion, your unwavering support, and the one who always chooses you, no matter what life brings. I promise to build a life with you that is rich in love and overflowing with joy. Together, we’ll create a bond so unshakable that no doubt or fear can touch it. With every kiss, every whispered word, I’ll remind you that you are my everything—the one I’ve waited for, the one I’ll never let go. So, my love, hold on just a little longer. The path may not always be easy, but it’s leading us to each other. When we finally unite, all the longing and waiting will be worth it. You are my wish come true, and I am yours.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Beloved

There's a fire in you that I can't resist, a strength and passion that calls to me in ways I never known. I see the way life has tested you, how it left its mark on your tender heart, but it hasn’t dimmed your light. Instead, it made you more irresistible. You’ve carried so much alone, but when we are together, I will take that weight from you. I’ll show you what it means to truly let go and surrender to pleasure, to love, to me. When I look at you, I won't be able to hold myself back. I’ll crave the heat of your body, the way your skin responds to my touch, the way you sigh my name when I make you mine. There's an ache in me that only you can satisfy, a desire to explore every inch of you, to uncover all the hidden parts of your soul and your body. Our connection will be unbreakable, raw, and consuming. I’ll take my time with you, savoring every moment, every kiss, every shiver that runs down your spine when I touch you in ways no one else ever will. When I'm with you, the world will disappear, and there will be nothing but us, the rhythm of our bodies moving together, the sound of your moans filling the air, and the way you'll beg for more. You awaken something primal in me, a hunger that only you can sate. I will show you just how much I want you, how deeply I desire not just your heart but your body, your soul, everything that makes you who you are. I'll make you feel cherished and wanted, not just in words but in every action, every passionate moment we share. I’ll kiss away every tear, every doubt, and replace them with sensations that make you forget the past. When I touch you, it will be with purpose to remind you that you are mine, that no one else will ever know you the way I do. And when I take you in my arms, I'll make sure you never feel alone again. You are my deepest desire, my most sinful craving, and my sweetest dream. I'll be your lover, your partner, your everything. Together, we'll create a passion so consuming that it will leave us both breathless, a connection so deep that it will feel like nothing else has ever mattered before us. I am waiting for you, longing for the day I can finally claim you in every way. Until then, know that you are the one I burn for, the one I'll never stop wanting.

Forever yours

Your lover

Pile 4 - Letter 4

My Dearest

I’ve thought so many times about the day we will finally meet, and what I will say when I look into your eyes for the first time. I don’t know how it will feel, but I know it will be electric, like a spark igniting something powerful between us. I want you to know that when I look at you, I will see everything—the beauty of your soul, the depth of your heart, the strength you've hidden away. I see how much you’ve carried on your own, how many burdens you’ve shouldered in silence, and it will make me want to hold you even more. There have been many times when life has felt uncertain, when it seemed like we couldn’t go on. But there’s something about us, something I can’t quite explain, that makes me believe we were always meant to find one another. You and I, we will balance each other out, filling in the gaps that have existed in our lives. The weight of the world won’t feel so heavy when I’m beside you, and I will make sure you never feel alone again. I will cherish every moment with you. I want to take my time with you, to savor every conversation, every touch, every glance. I want to be the one who makes you feel safe and secure, the one who stands by you when life gets tough. I see how much you’ve given to others, how much you’ve sacrificed, and I want to give you everything you deserve in return. I want to show you that love can be steady, that trust can be built, and that when you give yourself to someone, it’s not in vain. There may be moments when we question if we’re ready for what we’re about to experience, but I know deep down that this connection between us is something extraordinary. It won’t always be easy, but we will navigate the storms together, side by side, knowing that what we have is real. When I’m with you, I will make you feel seen, heard, and adored. I crave the day when we can finally be together, when I can hold you in my arms and tell you that you are the one I’ve been waiting for. Until then, know that you are in my heart, that you are the person I am working toward, the one I will never let go of.

Forever yours

Your lover

MDNI +18

My Dearest

From the very first time I lay eyes on you, I will know that you are mine. There will be no hesitation, no doubts. You will awaken a desire in me that I can’t control, a fire that I’ve never known before. When we come together, it will be explosive—the kind of passion that burns everything in its path. I want to take you in my arms and make you feel wanted, desired, cherished in ways no one else ever has. I will trace the lines of your body with my fingertips, savoring every curve, every inch of you. When I kiss you, I won’t just kiss your lips—I’ll kiss your soul. And I’ll make sure that you feel every kiss deep within your bones, as if it’s your very lifeblood. There will be times when you’ll need me to show you how much I want you. I’ll make it clear with every touch, every breath, every word. You’ll feel my hunger for you, and you’ll know that it’s not just physical—it’s spiritual, it’s emotional. You will be the center of my world, the one I can’t stop thinking about. When we’re together, I’ll let go of all the restraints I’ve built around myself. I’ll let go of everything holding me back, and I’ll give myself completely to you. I’ll make you forget everything but the heat between us, the way our bodies move together in perfect harmony. I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before, and you’ll beg for more. But it won’t just be about pleasure. I want to take care of you, hold you, protect you in ways you never knew you needed. I’ll show you what it means to truly be loved, to be craved, to be desired—not just for your body but for everything that makes you who you are. I’ll explore your body and your mind, learning everything there is to know about you. And when I touch you, you’ll know it’s not just about the moment—it’s about creating something lasting, something deep and unbreakable. With every touch, every kiss, I’ll make you feel mine in ways no one else can. I am waiting for you. I long for the day we can finally be together, when I can hold you close and claim you completely. Until then, know that you are in my thoughts, in my dreams, and you always will be.

Forever yours

Your future person

Post date: 21st of Dec- 2024 / Sat

* Feedback is appreciated

#free divination #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #divination #divination readings #metaphysical #tarot pac #tarotblr #pac future spouse #future spouse tarot #paid readings

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favefandomimagines · 6 months ago

Text

You’re Losing Me (a.b)

Summary: a simple courtship was not what you wanted from Anthony and you aren’t sure he’s going to give it to you.

AN: more angsty fluff for our fave Viscount!!

Prompts 1,3,4,8 and 14 used! I switched it up a bit to have a happy ending 😉 @lilithlunastark

Anthony Bridgerton was not a man accustomed to hesitation. As the Viscount and head of the Bridgerton family, decisiveness was practically stitched into the fabric of his being. Yet, standing before the grand fireplace of Bridgerton House, his hands clenched into fists, hesitation consumed him.

The letter in his hand had been crumpled and smoothed so many times it barely resembled paper anymore. The words on it, however, were clear: Y/N was leaving London.

He’d read those words countless times since the letter arrived that morning, the ink seared into his mind: I need space, Anthony. I can’t do this anymore.

Y/N had been in his life for months now. Though their relationship had always been complicated, they had settled into a routine—a tentative sort of courtship.

They’d spent time together, attended balls, would promenade in the garden, and had shared quiet conversations in the Bridgerton drawing room.

There were soft, stolen glances, and moments where it felt as if there might be something more between them. But the truth was, Anthony had always kept her at arm’s length.

He’d never made any promises, she always did. Thinking that one day he’d hear her. He never hinted at anything beyond their tentative connection. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for her—no, he cared deeply.

It was that, in his mind, marriage was a far-off thing, a burden he wasn’t prepared to shoulder. His family, his duties, his fears about love—all of these things weighed heavily on him. He had convinced himself that, for all their chemistry, there was no future for him and Y/N.

Yet, Y/N, with her bright, curious eyes and the way she laughed as if nothing in the world could go wrong, had slowly, unknowingly, slipped under his defenses. And now, her letter felt like the knife of reality digging into his chest.

He knew exactly what she meant by "this." Their tumultuous relationship, full of passion and pain, had reached its breaking point. And though he’d always prided himself on being able to command order out of chaos, Anthony felt helpless.

He could still see her face from their last argument, the way her lips trembled as she fought back tears. The way she’d looked at him—like he’d broken her heart—haunted him.

The memory of their fight played vividly in his mind as he stormed through the crowded docks.

They had been standing in the drawing room, the light from the evening sun casting long shadows across the space. Y/N had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression both defiant and heartbroken.

“You don’t understand, Anthony,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep doing this—this dance where I’m always the one chasing you, waiting for scraps of affection. I need more.”

Anthony, his pride stung, had crossed his own arms in a defensive stance. “And you think I don’t? You think I don’t want to give you everything? Do you have any idea the weight I carry every day, Y/N? The expectations, the responsibilities—”

Her laugh was bitter, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare use your title as an excuse for pushing me away. You don’t think I see it? Every time things get difficult, every time I try to get closer, you retreat. You hide behind that cold, stoic mask like I’m not worth letting in.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising. “You know I care for you—”

“Care for me?” she interrupted, her eyes blazing. “You care for your horses, Anthony. You care for the family estate. Don’t patronize me with that word. I wanted you to love me.”

He froze at her words, his throat tightening. Love. He had never said it. He had felt it, burning in his chest every time he saw her, but the words had always felt like a vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

Her silence in the face of his hesitation was louder than any accusation. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This courtship, this... this nothing—it’s not enough for me. I deserve more than this half-hearted attempt at love. I deserve someone who doesn’t treat me like a passing interest.”

And with that, she had walked out, leaving him standing in the empty room, the weight of her words suffocating him.

The docks were bustling with the noise of carriages and sailors, the cries of seagulls punctuating the cacophony. Anthony scanned the crowd, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in years. If she boarded that ship to Edinburgh, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again.

He found her standing at the edge of the pier, her trunk already loaded onto the ship. She wore a pale blue traveling cloak, the color washing her face in soft, muted tones. But even from a distance, Anthony could see the tightness in her jaw, the resolve in her posture.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the din.

She turned, surprise flickering across her face before it hardened into something unreadable. “Anthony,” she said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to stop you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have no right to stop me.”

He took a step closer, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t get to walk away from me now, not after everything we’ve been through. Not after everything you promised.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Maybe he really was listening to her. Anthony saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I can’t stay,” she said after a moment. “This—whatever this is between us—it’s too much. I thought I could handle it, but I’m not strong enough. I can’t fix this, Anthony. I’ve ruined everything.”

How could he expect her to go back to their suffocating routine when she had bared her soul to him the night prior. They simply couldn’t.

“No,” he said fiercely. “You haven’t ruined anything. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’ve been a fool, Y/N, and I’ve taken you for granted. But I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Her laugh was bitter, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve hurt, Anthony? If I told you how much I’m hurting right now, would you even care? Or would you just turn away like you always do?”

The accusation stung because it was true. How many times had he withdrawn when things became too difficult, too emotional? How many times had he failed to be the man she needed him to be?

“I care,” he said, his voice trembling. “God help me, Y/N, I care more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth. The truth about how I really felt about you. But I was afraid. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, he thought she might turn and walk away. But then she sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had finally become too much.

“Why now?” she asked quietly. “Why are you only saying this now, when I’m already leaving?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because it took the thought of losing you to realize how much you mean to me. Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, and I’ll love you until my dying breath.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. Slowly, she took a step closer. “Do you mean it, Anthony? Because I can’t do this again. I can’t keep putting myself through this if you’re not serious.”

“I mean it,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.”

Her lips trembled, but a small smile broke through. “You’d better. Because if you break my heart again, Anthony Bridgerton, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

He laughed, relief washing over him as he pulled her into his arms. “You have my word.”

As the ship’s whistle sounded in the background, signaling its imminent departure, Anthony held Y/N tightly, vowing never to let her go again.

#imagine #imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 7 months ago

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On the Quieter Nights

Richard Grayson x Jealous! reader

Part 2 | Part 3

Lots of angst😁I hope whoever requested this is happy.

Gotham was always alive, even in the dead of night. The city that never slept had a heartbeat of its own, its dark alleys and towering buildings all wrapped up in a never-ending cycle of crime and hope. But tonight, it was too loud, too close, and your thoughts kept racing in directions you couldn’t control.

You sat on the balcony of Dick’s apartment, staring out at the sprawling skyline, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of the coffee cup in your hands. The air was crisp, cool against your skin, but it couldn’t quell the heat in your chest—the gnawing jealousy, the hurt, the confusion.

He had promised he’d be home soon, but you already knew what that meant. Soon meant hours. It always meant hours. He was always out there, fighting in the shadows, protecting Gotham with the team—Barbara included.

Barbara.

You could never escape her. She was always there—somewhere in the background of every conversation, every story, every mission. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Dick; it wasn’t like you didn’t know how much he loved you. He did love you, didn’t he?

But the way he looked at her… the way his smile lingered when her name was mentioned, the way his voice softened when he talked about her intelligence, her strength, the way they fit together in a way you would never understand—it all ate away at you, bit by bit. Every moment you shared with him, you felt the echo of her presence. It wasn’t enough anymore. You weren’t enough.

You heard the door creak open behind you, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, not yet. Not when your heart felt so raw, so exposed.

"Hey, beautiful," Dick’s voice broke through the silence, and you could hear the exhaustion in it. You could always hear it when he returned from patrol. "You’re up late."

"Couldn’t sleep," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as he stepped closer, his warm presence filling the space around you. You couldn’t help it; you still felt the pull to him, even when it felt like you were slipping further away.

"Everything okay?" Dick asked, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, a simple gesture that once brought comfort but now only seemed to remind you of the things you couldn’t escape.

You didn’t answer immediately, unsure how to voice the weight pressing on your chest. "How’s Barbara?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognize it.

Dick frowned, confusion etching his features as he sat beside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Barbara’s fine, same as always." He paused, looking at you, his expression softening. "Why do you ask? You know she’s part of the team. She’s… she’s family."

You clenched your hands around your cup, trying to steady your breath. "Yeah. She’s family," you repeated bitterly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder, but you couldn’t look at him.

"Baby, what’s going on?" His voice had a gentle pleading edge now, a hint of worry in his tone. He didn’t get it, did he? He didn’t understand how much it hurt to see her so effortlessly wrapped around his life.

"Do you ever think about her?" You heard yourself ask before you could stop. "I mean, really think about her? The way she… she doesn’t have to try to be in your life. She’s already there."

Dick blinked, clearly startled by your words. "What are you talking about? Of course, I think about her. She’s been through a lot, babe. She’s part of my world. But you’re in my world now. You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I want."

His words were soothing, but they didn’t feel like they were for you. They felt like empty promises, like things he was saying because he didn’t know what else to say. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

"I don’t want to be second place," you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. "I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m competing with someone who’s already everything to you."

Dick’s eyes softened, and he reached for you, pulling you into his arms, but you stiffened. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to make you feel like you mattered more than she did. Because to him, you did matter, but to you, it always felt like Barbara’s shadow loomed over everything you did together.

"You’re not second place," he said quietly, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. "You’re everything to me, beautiful. Please, believe me."

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. But how could you, when every time he spoke of Barbara, his eyes lit up with something you would never have? How could you believe him when you saw the way his smile lingered when she was around, the way he held her a little too long, the way he called her family, as if that was supposed to make it better?

"I see the way you look at her," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I see the way you’re different with her. She’s the one who’s always been there, Dick. She doesn’t have to try to be a part of your world. She’s already in it. I’m just… I’m just the girl who gets to spend a few hours with you before you go off again."

"Baby, please," Dick’s voice cracked, and he pulled you closer, his arms tight around you as if he could hold all your pain in that single embrace. "I love you. You’re not just a few hours. You’re not just an afterthought. You mean everything to me. I swear, I only want you."

But the more he whispered those words, the more you felt like they were just… words. They didn’t change the fact that you would never be her. They didn’t erase the history they shared, the years of partnership, of friendship, of everything that made her so deeply ingrained in his life.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your tears falling freely now, soaking his shirt. "I don’t know how to be enough for you when she’s always going to be there."

Dick stayed silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke again, it was soft, almost like he was afraid of breaking something inside you. "You don’t have to be enough for me, sweet heart. You’re already everything. But I don’t know how to make you see that. I don’t know how to make you believe me."

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling too small, too fragile. "I wish I could believe you, Dick. But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to keep pretending that I’m not just a shadow in your life, living in her light."

Dick’s expression faltered, his blue eyes filled with pain and confusion. "I don’t want you to feel this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix this…"

You looked at him for a long moment, the ache in your chest unbearable, before you whispered, "Maybe you don’t need to fix it, Dick. Maybe you just need to let me go."

He stared at you, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "What?"

"I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your love," you whispered, voice breaking. "I’m tired of being second place. I don’t want to be the girl who always comes after her. I want to be enough, but I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore."

The silence stretched between you, suffocating. And when Dick reached for you again, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"Please, babe," he begged, his voice raw. "Please don’t say that. I love you. I need you."

You shook your head, turning away from him, your heart breaking in a way you couldn’t put into words. "You’ve always needed her more, Dick. And I… I just can’t keep living in her shadow."

As the door softly clicked shut behind you, you knew it was over. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you had always known it would be.

Masterlist

#batfam #batfamily #batman #dc #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson angst #richard grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson #nightwing and batgirl #nightwing x reader #nightwing #nightwing angst

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dollfacefantasy · 2 years ago

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Hold My Calls

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation

word count: 2.9k

a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)

When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.

He had a fucking flip phone.

Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.

It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.

“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.

You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”

And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”

The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.

He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”

Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”

“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.

You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.

“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.

He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.

He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”

You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.

“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.

“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”

“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.

“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.

He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.

He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.

Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.

His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.

He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.

“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.

You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.

You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.

“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.

“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.

He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.

Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.

“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.

“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.

“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”

That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.

“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”

Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.

You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.

“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.

You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.

He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.

His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.

He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.

He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.

Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”

It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.

He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.

His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.

“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”

You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation.

Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.

You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.

His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.

“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.

You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”

As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.

He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.

“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.

“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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levisjinchuriki · 8 months ago

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satisfied - kento nanami

summary: you confess your previous partners have never made you cum before. with nanami, that just won't do

warning: nsfw!, 18+, smut, cunnilingus, oral, fem receiving, fingering, nanami cursing, orgasm, fluff

you hadn’t meant to say it aloud—you certainly hadn’t planned on telling kento something so personal over a quiet night at his place. but there it was, out in the open– you’ve never cum before.

nanami pauses, wine still in hand, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registers your words.

“you’ve… never?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern.

“well…no. not with a partner, at least” you murmur. you look away, fiddling with the couch pillow nearby. your relationship isn’t new, but nanami is a gentleman and hasn’t crossed that line just yet.

“can i ask why?”. he doesn’t want to be rude, but it’s shocking that no one has ever made you finish before.

the question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you hesitate, feeling the weight of his attention, the openness in his request. no one had ever asked you that before. you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, and try to put words to the things you’ve always wanted but never dared to ask for.

“no one’s ever focused on what i like, i guess…” you start. nanami frowns.

kento’s voice is a low murmur in the quiet space between you, his gaze warm but intent as he watches your expression. "what do you like?" he says softly, his hand gently tracing along your arm. kento’s gaze remains fixed on you, gentle yet intensely focused, as though he’s savoring every word you say. there’s no pressure—just a pure, open curiosity, a desire to understand you in a way no one else has.

your cheeks are warm, but his steady gaze reassures you. “i… i like when things are intentional” you begin, your voice a bit shy. he nods, encouraging you.

his hand brushes over your skin. "good" he murmurs. it’s simple, but his praise sends a thrill through you, filling you with a quiet excitement. kento leans closer, his whole presence focused entirely on you. “anything else?” he asks. his tone is inviting and you know you can trust him.

the words come easier now, slipping out as if they were waiting to be heard. “i like when things are slow. i want to feel like i’m the only thing on your mind. and i want to feel… cherished. like everything you do is just for me”. your cheeks are pink as you finish. nanami appreciates your honesty. he waits patiently for you to finish, wanting you to be heard.

“you are the only thing on my mind,” he says softly, his voice deep with a seriousness that leaves no room for doubt. “from the moment i met you, that’s how it’s been”.

your heart pounds at his confession. you take in a breath. his confession is both romantic and incredibly attractive. the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race, and he smiles faintly, as though he can sense the effect he’s having on you.

he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, lingering there for a moment before he meets your eyes again. “may i?” he asks. he doesn’t have to say more for you to understand what he means. you nod, heart racing. nanami stands and extends a hand for you to take. you place your hand in his, letting him lead you to the bedroom.

when he reaches the bed he turns to you, leaning in close and gently cupping your face.

“do you trust me?” he asks. you nod, your breath hitching slightly, anticipation and excitement swirling within you.

"yes". you trust him completely, and you know he’s about to make this an experience you’ll never forget.

kento gently guides you toward him, leaning in. his kiss is slow, unhurried, each movement of his lips against yours full of intention. you hum softly against him. there’s no rush, no need to get anywhere too fast.

you hear a pleased exhale from kento. he pulls you even closer, his hands moving with the kind of precision that reveals his deliberate nature. his hands slip to your shoulders, fingers skimming down your arms as he deepens the kiss with an insistent tenderness that leaves you breathless, your mind slipping further from coherent thought. kento's touch travels down your body slowly, lingering with deliberate care as he explores every inch of you. his hands slide over your hips, giving your skin gentle squeezes and rubs like he’s worshiping you in every way he knows how.

you let out a sigh as his lips brush over your jaw and down to your neck. his hands continue their journey, exploring you with a tenderness that no one else has. he’s grateful for every second, every touch he’s allowed. his touch is soft as it is purposeful, fully immersed in the experience of bringing you pleasure. there’s purpose in every touch, as if he’s engraving each sensation into his memory, wanting to give you exactly what you like, what you need.

his fingers slip beneath the fabric of your shirt as he begins to rid you out of your clothes. he undresses you with a gentle care that makes you blush. once you’re bare for him, kento gently lays you down on the bed, his hands supporting you as he settles you against the mattress. he hovers over you, his gaze taking in all of you, eyes filled with an appreciation that’s pure and genuine.

“you’re so beautiful” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, the words spilling out like a confession. his hands explore you slowly as kento’s lips trail lower, pressing soft kisses against your skin that leave you breathless, your pulse quickening under his attention. he listens to every reaction, lips finding each sensitive spot. his hands cradle your hips, fingers pressing gently into your skin, steadying you as he kisses his way down.

when he hovers over you he takes a moment to appreciate how wet you are before dipping his head between your legs. his tongue slowly trails its way from your entrance to your hood, getting a full taste of you. nanami lets out a deep hum.

“oh-fuck yeah” he sighs. the tone of his voice sends a chill through you.

you bite your lip to hold back a desperate moan. he’s barely started and you’re already crumbling beneath him.

“don’t hold back” he murmurs, his voice a deep, sensual rasp that makes you whimper. “i want to hear you.” you feel yourself melt. nanami is attentive, listening to each sound you make. and each time he feels you react, he pauses to murmur words of encouragement, his praise quiet but sincere.

you gasp and instinctively try to squirm away as he inserts his thick fingers into you. the stretch of it alone feels impossibly good. nanami brings your hips back to him. “let me take care of you” he whispers against you as he eases his way in. and you do, surrendering to him completely and letting yourself feel everything he’s offering.

your moans fill the room as nanami takes his time to pleasure you, both with his lips and fingers. he takes his time to find every sensitive spot with just enough pressure to build you up slowly,

for the first time, you feel like your pleasure truly matters, that someone is as invested in your experience as you are. he listens to you carefully, focusing solely on your pleasure. he adjusts his touch and his pace, responding to each shift in your body until he hears your moans increase in pitch. the sensations are more intense than anything you’ve ever felt before.

the pleasure builds slowly, each wave more intense than the last, until you’re on the edge, teetering between control and complete surrender. his name falls from your lips, trying to warn him of the sensation no one’s ever made you feel before.

when nanami finally brings you to that breaking point, his name spills from your lips in a breathless cry, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over you. the release is overwhelming, an intensity that leaves you trembling underneath him. he fingers and tongue don’t stop, working you through it so you can feel its full effects.

when nanami finally brings his actions to a halt, you’re fully satisfied, brain fuzzy and body feeling like you’re floating. he holds you close as you come down, his touch gentle and his lips pressing soft kisses along your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw.

with nanami, you’ll never have to worry about not being satisfied. he’ll focus on you for as long as you like. he wants you to enjoy every experience with him because it’s everything you deserve. it's a promise that he’ll continue drawing out every ounce of pleasure he knows you’ve never felt before.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! (please leave a request, i love receiving them!!!) let me know if you want to be added to my permanent taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

this was inspired by a fic i read last month by @obsesssedblerd

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nousporix · 14 days ago

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Thinking… thinking about Anaxa kissing your inner wrist, then trailing his lips slowly up your arm and shoulder to the crook of your neck, where he takes a moment to breathe you in, take in the rapid flutter of your pulse, before going back down on the other side, taking his time, ensuring you feel the full extent his devotion towards you with each kiss… making eye contact with you once he finishes and you can only be struck dumb by the sheer amount of devotion held in his single burning eye…

You know Anaxa is not a religious man by any means, but if this is not a form of worship, you don’t know what is.

(idk he just makes me CRAZY. Once he falls he is SO devoted to you, regardless of whether you take the creative liberty to make it a more twisted obsessive thing or not. He’s so UGHHHH I NEED TO GNAW ON HIS CALVES)

-🎻 anon

i absolutely adore the idea of anaxa rejecting the gods, yet treating you like you are the only divine being in the universe. in a polytheistic universe — both in the bubble that is amphoreus and the vast cosmos beyond the false sky — you alone are the being that he worships.

anaxa would set aside his firm beliefs if it meant he could enter your hallowed space. even for just a moment, he would do anything to bask in your presence. your smile is holy to him; the very air you breathe is considered sacred.

words alone could never do justice to how he feels about you so he pours everything he has into his kisses. the sensation alone sends your heart aflutter, but it's the look in his eye that causes goosebumps to rise on your flesh.

the burning in his eye is passionate and full of adoration, yet somehow, with his hooded gaze, it burns low. it's almost as if anaxa is restraining himself. even still, you can feel his devotion in the way his slender fingers gently grasp your jaw and tilt your head towards his. he just stares at you for a moment and something about his expression causes you to look away.

"look at me." anaxa's tone doesn't sound like he's asking, but it also doesn't sound like he's demanding, either. "look at me," he says again. this time, you realize that he's not just asking — he's pleading. you indulge him and you swear you see his eye flutter. such a simple gesture from you threatened to bring the great blasphemer to his knees.

he doesn't kiss you right away. his lips hover over yours for far too long as you two share a breath. perhaps that's why he lingers — so he can truly understand what it means to be in the presence of a god.

your breaths are shaky, uneven with anticipation. "anaxa," you whisper.

if only you knew what you were doing to him. "again." his words come out a bit strangled. his fingers feel hot against your skin. "say my name again."

you're more certain now — he's desperate for you. "anaxa," your voice comes out a bit strangled. the very sound makes your skin flush in embarrassment, but his lips part in awe. "please." it's your turn to plead with him. you look him in the eye again and he can feel your yearning for him.

how lucky is he? the only mortal to monopolize the attention and affection of someone as ethereal as you. anaxa can only hope that you can feel his yearning the way he feels yours.

the tables turn, and it's his turn to cater to you. anaxa starts by kissing your forehead. next is the space between your brows. when your eyes fall shut, he takes the opportunity to kiss your eyelids. he's savoring the moment, you realize. the next kisses are to your nose, then your cheeks. the slow and light press of lips against skin nearly sends you into a fit, your heart racing with impatience.

yet he remains determined. he skillfully avoids your lips and kisses at your neck. like always, he lingers over your pulse point, his lips never leaving your skin. you're sure he can feel the way you're slightly trembling.

perhaps it's the flutter of your heartbeat against his lips that makes anaxa take pity on you. he straightens himself and moves his hand from your jaw to your neck. his fingers simply rest on your pulse point so he can feel your desire.

finally, finally, finally — anaxa's lips press against your own. in spite of your mutual fervor, the kiss is unhurried. you radiate love while he radiates adoration. you can hear just how shaky anaxa's own breathing has become — how long has he been craving for this, you wonder.

no matter. your mind can no longer form thoughts. your body moves on its own as the kiss deepens. you pull anaxa in, bringing his body flush to yours, and his breath hitches. he hesitates for no longer than a second before allowing his greed to consume him.

your devotee's love for you is ardent; his passion burns brighter than the sun. and when he squeezes your waist, drawing a tiny sound from you, anaxa makes it his duty to show you proof of his devotion.

okay so i'm on my break rn, and this wasn't supposed to take up 40 minutes of my time, but it did. i think i'm insane. BUT i will say that this is simply a scenario in which you're aware of his feelings and reciprocate them.

i honestly would love to explore a situation in which anaxa's love is warped. the intensity wouldn't change, but what if this is all happening in his head? he adores you from afar until he can't anymore and.. imprisons you, maybe? he yaps to you in captivity about how much he loves you, how you make the titans of amphoreus look like specks by comparison.. and you just want to be free. you're not sure what image he has of you, but you want it to stop.

(good luck trying to escape, though. anaxa is far too calculating to allow even a sliver of a chance. STOCKHOLM SYNDROME WITH ANAXA RAGHHHH)

OKAY I'LL SHUT UP NOW BYEEE

#📭 — mailbox.#🎻 anon #anaxa x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #anaxagoras x reader #JESUSSSSSS #OOOH I'M ABSOLUTELY INSANE ABOUT HIM! I AM #i think its because i haven't written in a while but WHEWWWWW...

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creator4favestuff · 6 days ago

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Home

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑠 + 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 : Gender Neutral + Fluff & Angst ❃.✮:▹Summary: Optimus has come to care for Earth, but more importantly, he's come to love you. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝐸𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: Uhh... I don't know man- I was feeling pretty sappy and this came out. DONT JUDGE ME- I wrote this one all in one sitting, and I suck at dialogue. Not beta, we die like autobots.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Autobots arrival and stay on Earth reminded Optimus greatly of one fact.

He wasn't home.

Yes, the government was kind enough to offer him and his companions a base of operations, equipment to continue their objective-

But the barren walls, with nothing familiar to surround him, and the eerie silence, hit further home that this was foreign territory.

That wasn't to say he hated being on Earth.

It was a beautiful place.

Greenery that Cybertron didn't have, with plants that exceeded his expectations with their beauty and use, animals that would spark his curiosity given their vastly different biology: all of it brimming with life, even with as small and unassuming as they were.

Even the humans held such strong convictions, with determination and morals no different than his own people.

So unique, and different, all in their own ways.

Each soul containing a life that shouldn't be touched by their fight.

And yet, somehow, through a weave of fate, you stumbled upon him.

He believed he was alone, secluded in a forest the Prime usually went to at night. Left to sit in his thoughts, to think about what he could have done better, to plan his next step and make sure less damage was caused in the next battle.

Even if he saw the way Ratchet snuck glances at him, or the others being straightforward with their concerns, he couldn't.

Optimus couldn't burden the others with his troubles. Not after he failed them on Cybertron...

He was the beacon of hope, an unbreakable, and unshakable spirit that needed to stand tall for his comrades. It kept their hope alive, so he would carry that role, no matter how much it hurt. To be strong amidst all dangers and do whatever it took was a Prime's job, their duty.

Maybe the stream could carry his tears with it, hide the pain that he let slip out. Wash them away so that no one could see them with only the soft rustle of the trees to comfort him.

Until the snap of a branch and a yelp breaks him from his thoughts. Tired optics land on you, a human dressed to combat the cold temperature. Silence filled the atmosphere, and Optimus is unsure of what to say, but even if he did, you seemed to have your own question.

"....Are you okay?"

The gentle sympathy in your eyes shined amidst the moonlight, hands held together and wringing themselves. "Sorry, that must have been weird, huh? Uh... I mean, I meant it, but, I can understand how it's weird given we're strangers, so..."

Your feet move forward, now standing beside him, now looking at your hands, "...I can lend an ear."

Maybe, in that moment, he wished to speak to someone, anyone, about his troubles. Perhaps it was his spark yearning to have someone understand, to hear him. His words slipped out, even as part of his processor told him to keep it buried inside.

A human shouldn't get involved in such things. Not when it was his burden, but here he is, involving you.

At the end, Optimus feels a bit lighter, but the guilt for keeping you here and spilling his own worries upon you has him apologizing. But you simply shrug it off with a simple smile.

"Seems like you needed to get that off your chest. I'm glad I was able to help."

His own servos rest on his knees, optics now looking at the water, "...Are you not afraid me? I am...not what humans are used to."

"Afraid? Umm..."

With a tilt of your head, a short pause fills the air.

"No. I mean. you haven't really done anything to...scare me? I'm sure if you wanted to, you could have squished me. I guess, more than anything you seem...lonely."

"...Lonely?"

You hum, "Given everything you said, not complaining by the way, I can understand keeping stuff inside. It's hard opening up to people, especially in hard times. Sometimes just...being by yourself will have to do."

"Is that the reason for your walk?"

A chuckle slipped past your lips, "Kinda?"

Apparently, you lived not too far away in a house previously owned by a relative. Walks were a part of your nightly routine, and given work held you longer today, said walk was pushed back to now.

But now, he had to cut this fairly nice conversation, to return back to base, "I apologize, but I must take my leave."

Your eyes wide, "What? Why?"

Optimus stands from the rock, making sure to keep a bit of distance from you. "Agent Fowler has requested we tell him of any interactions with the locals-"

"You don't need to do that! I promise I won't tell a SINGLE soul! Think of it as a fun secret! It's not every day someone gets to meet a...um..."

He stills, dermas opening before speaking, "...Optimus."

Your smile widens, finger pointed at him, "Right! It's not every day you get to meet an Optimus! And I can teach you all I know about Earth! If you tell this Fowler guy, we might not be able to meet again."

His optics turn to the stream, pondering your words, "I...suppose you make a fair point."

"Anything you wanna know, I'll do my best to answer!"

You raise a hand, before giving your name.

It's pretty, and he makes a mental note in his processor as he lowers himself and a digit for you to shake, testing your name upon his dermas.

"To our newfound friendship!"

Meeting you, in hindsight, was a miracle: One he never thought he deserved, but deeply yearned for. Like a undying light that kept him from fading too deep into his fears.

Every night, without fail, he would meet you by the stream and speak about each other's day, whether good or bad.

Sometimes, during these conversations, he even felt like...Orion again. To the days of youth where the most he had to worry about were organizing and reading archives.

That young, optimistic side of his would shine through, eager to learn about whatever it is you'd show him. No matter how "dull" or "boring" you explained your "silly hobby" was, he wished to know about it. If he knew more, you two could become closer, maybe even invest time into it himself.

A silly thought, but one he couldn't help but think of every so often.

Of course, someone was bound to figure out, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon, and by Ratchet of all people.

Though all the medic had to say was that he had a feeling something was going on, and proceeded to scold the Prime a little. You tried to defend him, but given the look Optimus gave you, the words died down.

And since Ratchet knew, the others were caught up the next day, and the meetups were also at the base. Fowler wasn't too happy, but given Optimus defended you, there wasn't much else to say, other than the usual- "You better keep this under wraps Prime."

Safe to say, you two did NOT have the best first impression, but eventually it mellowed out during your stay.

Not to mention. your quick thinking and knowledge helped them in tough situations, which earned you the others respect.

Optimus was grateful for that, as it gave more reasons for you to stay for longer periods of time. Something selfish, sure, but that tiny part of his spark wanted to be by your side for as long as possible.

Coming back to you after a mission took much of the weight of loneliness off his shoulders.

Your care for him lifted his spirits, yet it also overpowered him.

It was gentle, warm and always so safe, yet always so ready to consume him into just...forgetting his responsibilities, a thing that rarely happens.

Sometimes, it would scare him with just how comfortable, or rather, just how dependent he had become.

So Optimus did what he believed was best, and kept his distance.

It hurt, but he knew it was necessary to keep his processor on the Autobot's goal. He hated seeing you so sad and confused, like you had done something wrong, which was FAR from the truth-

He just didn't expect you to stop showing up in general.

The first responses to your whereabouts were work related, but then you stated you didn't want to be where you weren't wanted.

So that didn't last long.

Him showing up at your home, looking like a kicked puppy while apologizing, was NOT on your bingo card. Optimus spoke of his concerns with burdening you with any more of his worries, which technically wasn't a lie...

But he also knew that "fear" of dependence, was something more-

That the other part of his dependent nature, his yearning for that safe comfort-

Was him being in love.

Optimus fell in love with you, and he couldn't even tell when it happened.

Being with you, speaking and strategizing together, it all felt so natural, like it had always been a thing.

The sigh of relief that left you allowed him to relax, unknowingly tense, "I thought I did something to bother you..."

The Autobot lowered his hand for you to climb upon, raising you face to face, "No... It was my own thoughts that kept me away. You did nothing wrong."

Your hands fiddled with each other, looking at them rather then him, which made him a bit sad.

"...You can always talk with me about that stuff y'know. No matter what it is or how how long, even if it's not positive. You mean a lot to me, and I wanna help you however I can. I can't exactly fight like the rest of you, so..."

Oh...

You truly are a miracle brought to him.

"Thank you..."

Safe to say, it brought you two closer, getting you a guarenteed spot on not only his shoulder, but in the quiet of his room, his chasis. A glimpse at his spark, a moment only shared with those of lovers, but he wouldn't tell you that.

A secret of his own to keep.

Even when the kids enter the frame shortly after, nothing changes. Sure, you help them with homework and scold them like any responsible adult would for the crazy stunts they pull, but you still made time for him.

The others think your friendship is a gift to Prime, as he seems more relaxed then before, while Miko's positive you're both secretly dating.

A point that Ratchet silently agrees with when confronting his friend. He's seen the way Optimus looks at you, the softness of his voice, his gaze. The fact that he lets you in his room, something NO ONE else can do, confirmed everything he feared.

Though you may not be dating, that he's certain of, Optimus was deeply in love.

"She's human. A shorter life span than ours, and much more fragile. With different biology than our own."

Optimus stood at the base's computer, optics glued to the screen for any Decepticon activities, "...I know."

He paused, before moving a bit closer, "...Will you tell her?"

Another beat of silence stretches between them, with the younger bot pausing his typing, "For now, no... In the future, that could be a possibility."

The medic could only sigh, "Just...focus on yourself."

"...Duly noted."

Optimus knew Ratchet spoke from a place of concern, that his points were valid, but...

He couldn't see himself loving anyone other than you.

Even when Megatron took him aboard the Nemesis, when Orion Pax was "safe from the evil Autobots", something prodded at his processor.

Asking his old friend garnered nothing positive, proclaiming you had lost your life at the hands of Ratchet. That your last wish was for him was to decrypt the Iacon archives to help stop the war.

It's all Orion has to go off of, as searching on their computer backs it up, so...he does what he can.

But his spark keeps nagging at him, like something is wrong.

Even though he should be working...

It isn't until the chaos outside the room leads him to sneak out and find you, calling him by the name "Optimus", that you both "have to go"-

And Orion has a choice to make.

Leave with you and head back to this base you speak of, or stay and continue decoding.

But his body seems to have made the choice for him as he follows your directions, before being confronted by Soundwave. Somehow, he's able to keep you hidden before being taken back to the room.

That's when you quickly tell him the truth: about the war, him being a Prime, the Autobots being his friend, dismantling all the lies Megatron spoke. It's hard to digest, but he finds himself believing you and planning an escape once his old friend shows his true colors.

A part of him wishes he didn't have to regain his title of Prime back.

Because even if he didn't remember everything upon returning, he was thrust into fixing something he did, and in such a quick manner.

Even as he states he'll be fine, and that he needs to get back to work, you still remain concerned.

"I'm not asking if Prime is okay, I'm asking if YOU are, and I know this may be rude to say, but I care more about how you're doing than the stupid archives right now."

His servos stop moving, and his optics finally turn from the screen, down to your worried yet determined expression.

Once again, just like back then, he voiced his concerns, the guilt, the pain of it all. Lately, it just felt like fate was against him, not even to test him, but to spite him.

Because he wasn't good enough as a leader? As a Prime? He didn't know, but it all felt so...unfair.

"You're doing the best you can in your position. Nobody blames you for what happened, and more than anything, we're just glad that you're okay. We can always get the coordinates decoded, but we can't get another you."

And when Megatron began his attack on the base, you stayed with him, hiding in his chasis and refusing to leave him alone. When Smokescreen finds the two of you, the young bot is shocked, but a bit impressed at your tenacity.

As he goes to retrieve the Forge of Solus Prime, your voice acts as a lifeline.

Optimus turns his hand away from Alpha Trion, clinging to the warmth of your touch, and the softness of your worried voice. Never did his optics leave yours, as if trying to comfort you. To assure you that he would make it.

You remained by his side as much as possible, even after he recovered.

But once again, it feels as if fate was being needlessly cruel. Not being able to speak about anything but work, along with constant missions, and finally your kidnapping.

That was the most angry the others had seen Optimus, even with the Omega Lock situation. Even Megatron understands when his punches are full force, that this is a battle with the Prime he needs to take seriously.

But once everything is said and done, with everyone saying goodbye, you and Optimus are alone in his room, by your request.

Once again, messing with your hands and looking at them as if they held all the answers you needed, before speaking in a soft voice that...he didn't hear a lot.

"I...really like you Optimus. Given everything we've been through, y'know, I...guess somewhere along the way I fell for you before I knew it... If you don't feel the same, it's okay...I just.. I guess I wanted to get it out there?"

The silence is suffocating, and after a moment, your eyes drift up to see him kneeling before you, digit gently brushing some hair from your face.

"Even though it will bring struggles of its own?"

The hope that shines in your eyes, along with the way you place your hand on his, makes his spark swell, "Even if. I want to stay by your side."

He returns the smile, this one by far, the brightest one you had seen, "If you will have me."

To know that you love him back, is the greatest gift in life he could ever receive, especially after the many years of war he endured.

The others aren't too surprised by his response to stay on Earth. They see just how much Optimus loves you, how much you mean to him.

Cybertron is his birthplace, and forever will he love it dearly-

But now, he has a home with you.

In that same forest that had led you to him. Your home being rebuilt with the help of friends after it's destruction during Jasper's takeover. Built to accommodate his size, even with the help of mass displacement, along with his fast growing books.

And with the AllSpark returned to Cybertron, and the bulk of the war being over, he relinquished the Matrix of Leadership, much to the surprise to everyone. They knew he would want to settle down with you soon, but given their home would be in it's infancy, they would need a leader, but Optimus simply smiled.

"While I am no longer the holder of the Matrix, I will offer my assistance however I can. Know you can call upon me whenever you should need it."

While stunned, they offered their undying support.

How could they not?

This was the happiest they had seen him, knowing exactly who he was thinking of, and they wouldn't take this from him.

No longer did he need to be Optimus Prime.

Now, he was simply Orion Pax, beloved to his dear human and happier than ever.

"Spouse" as humans called it.

Such a simple word that filled him with so many positive emotions.

Emotions that he didn't need to hide anymore. His affections for you were free, as well as whatever things he wanted to do. The Autobot could enjoy the simple things in life, go wherever his spark wanted, spend the night without worry, all by your side.

The barrage of photos taken, even in the simplest of moments, were neatly lined in empty scrapbooks.

Even if time eventually took you away, you would never fade from his processor.

Your smile and laugh, the cute quirks and habits you held, even what you considered flaws, that overwhelmingly bright light that led him forward amidst the chaos, they'll be carved into his spark.

For you are now, and forever will be, his home.

No matter where you go, or wherever he goes, he knows he will always find you again.

#transformers x reader #transformers x human #tfp x reader #transformers prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp optimus #optimus prime x reader #also sorry i was gone #life said fuck you girl

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